Outlander
by GreaterGoodIreland
Summary: An United Nations Peacekeeper without knowledge of the games is transported to Thedas. Unsure if he will ever be able to return, he is sucked into the conflicts of Thedas as he tries to survive with his new companions and build a new world.
1. Chapter 1: Dragons

_AUTHOR'S FOREWORD: I've had this idea floating around in my head for a long while now, interfering with some of my other writing and creating a desperate writer's block on occasion. Most stories where a person from our world enters the world of Dragon Age seem to have someone familiar with the video game as the protagonist. If done right, that's very entertaining, but it skews the perception a little bit._

 _So here's a story about someone who has no idea about Dragon Age's lore or storylines, thrust into that world head-first. That said, he has skills and knowledge that could greatly change things, but those will bring their own challenges and obstacles. It'll intersect heavily with DA: Inquisition's timeline, starting a good bit before those events, as I think that is the most interesting time for someone like this character to appear._

 _*DISCLAIMERS ABOUT CONTENT* No, this won't be a fic about a guy going around smiting everything with machineguns. Though obviously there will be a little of it, that's not really the point.  
_

 _Also, a warning about the tone of this story. Bad things will happen down the line. That is why this story is marked M._

 _EDIT: This story now has a TV Tropes page, courtesy of Drgyen. Search for Outlander Fanfic on that site to check it out!_

 _I hope you enjoy it!_

* * *

 **Outlander: The Peacekeeper's Tale**

 _This autobiography is part-confession, part-warning._

 _For readers from Thedas, it is the former. Among you, there are many who hate me, and many who seem to think I am some sort of hero. While not as famous as the Inquisitor for instance, almost everyone has heard of me to my eternal embarrassment. Usually by my title rather than my actual name. Both enemies and friends seem to assume things on the basis of falsehoods or the convenient bending of truth by either my enemies or supporters. So, for you Thedosians, I have decided to set down in writing my own account of what I have seen and done, to set the record straight. I also wish to entertain you, as more often than not, you have been hospitable hosts and brave comrades-in-arms._

 _For readers from elsewhere, this also serves as a warning. A cautionary tale about the dangers and inconveniences you'll face for trying to change things in Thedas. A certain group of horned zealots might learn quite a bit, but I doubt they can tear their heads out of their asses long enough to take heed. You can take it either as a guide, to steer you clear of some of the mistakes I have made, or as a discouragement against following in my footsteps. As you choose._

* * *

 _ **Volume One: Dragons and Other Oddities - Chapters One to Eight**_

 _ **Volume Two: Orlais - Chapters Nine to Seventeen  
**_

 _ **Volume Three: Rebellion -Chapters Eighteen to Twenty-Four  
**_

 _ **Volume Four: Revolution - Chapters Twenty-Five to Thirty-Six  
**_

 _ **Volume Five: Ferelden - Chapter Thirty-Seven onwards**_

* * *

 **Chapter One: Dragons**

My first lesson about Thedas was a brutal one, and became something I have held onto closely over the years as I have tried to do my best. Needless to say, I could have had no inkling as to the full extent of its importance until my arrival on this continent. I have followed the principle to varying degrees throughout the course of my life thus far, sometimes failing to go far enough and at other times going too far, only to make things worse. Despite the failures, it's helped me survive against a myriad of threats, ranging from bandits and highwaymen through rebel mages and rogue templars all the way to darkspawn and the machinations of both the Inquisition and supposedly-dead magisters. My first real glimpse of this place I now call home pretty much trumps all of them regardless, as does my association with some of the most excellent people I have ever met.

Of course, the lesson is "Always expect the unexpected."

Unfortunately, the unexpected can completely blindside you, throwing you into circumstances beyond all planning. Watching a dragon pound towards me, shaking the ground with its every step and roaring, definitely qualifies for that category. This was a very new problem, as up until that point, dragons had existed only in stories and certainly did not roam around forests with broods of young, burning prey alive and eating them. Finding out they're very real first-hand is a unique experience to say the least. Had I been alone, or unarmed, needless to say I would have died very quickly.

I suppose at this point, before I get into the details of how I arrived, I should get the most unbelievable point out of the way, the reason why I am writing this account of my life. I don't know how else to say it, so I just will. I am not of this world.

I don't mean that I was just born outside of Thedas, although I pretended that was the case for a very long time, nor I am not some creature from the Fade in human form. I mean that before I was taken to this world, I lived in an entirely different one. Different perhaps is too weak a word, given just how many differences there are. My original world has many names in many languages, but in the common tongue of this world, it would be called Earth. How I travelled from there to here remains a mystery to me, although I do know the why and the Fade is involved, as you'll see.

On to my kidnapping.

* * *

My world, like this one, had many wars and conflicts. Politics naturally seems to cultivate them, regardless of the differences between the worlds in how they're fought. I found myself on battlefields, as a result both of my ambition and education. The job was as a "peacekeeper", which I can only say were closest thing we had to Grey Wardens. The title and what they do is probably familiar to all who know of me; our job was to protect civilians and foster peace, broadly speaking. Traditionally, these would be soldiers of different nations' armies. I was a new kind, one recruited directly by the organisation responsible for it, somewhat like how the Inquisition recruits.

It happened when we were flying into a village we were supposed to protect, using a machine called a helicopter. On Earth, we had many technological wonders like that, but they were so common as to be almost boring. The proof on that front is that I was not enjoying the ride. I had been ordered against my will to join the soldiers to watch over some people in a warzone. The problem was that the place was probably going to burn to the ground, and there was little I could do. I complained before we left to my superior, but the fat colonel in charge from a country that will remain nameless fobbed me off with a platitude about duty. I was sorely tempted to fob him off with my fist, or tell him to take his fat ass to the front, but I preferred to keep my job. And remain out of prison.

To add insult to injury, we were packed in pretty tight with big boxes of weapons and supplies. The company wasn't great either, the crew of the machine being preoccupied with keeping us airborne and the squad of soldiers along for the ride remained sullen and silent throughout. Didn't really blame either party for it though. Flying isn't simple, and the country we were in was just a big desert for the most part. Uncomfortably hot, and full of people that hated us. It was an hour's worth of travel, and boredom set in quickly. I took a nap, thinking I would need it. I was having a very nice dream about someone I had met back at the outpost too. Until someone decided to interrupt it.

The whole wretched machine started shuddering violently.

I woke up, my vision blurring slightly. The shaking was very rapid, so much so you could feel it in your bones. Yet it didn't throw anyone around, people could still stand up if they wanted to. I remember being at a complete loss as to what was happening as I woke.

"Are we under attack?" I asked the sergeant.

The soldier looked out to check for himself, and turned back with a dissatisfied glance towards me before getting out of his seat to talk to the one controlling the helicopter. So, he had no idea, I thought as I looked out the window myself. The first premonition that something truly catastrophic was about to happen ran through me, as the shuddering got progressively worse.

"What the hell is going on?" the sergeant asked the pilot, roaring the question over the noise of both the mechanisms and the knocking of metal.

"Turbulence?" the pilot replied, his answer far more of a guess than a statement of fact. Considering how low we were flying, the chances it was the air disturbing the flight was unlikely. There was no extreme weather when we started, just blistering sunlight. I knew that, because I had to for the job. I craned my neck to get a look at the pilot. He appeared to be panicking, which almost threw me into a panic. Thankfully, his crewmate was much more collected.

"If you're not buckled up, get your seatbelts on."

And so we all made sure we were strapped into our seats tightly, fiddling with extra belts and sending looks in the direction of the heavy boxes. It was like transporting raw lyrium. If they didn't explode, they could still crush us if they got loose. I tried hard not to think about either scenario, instead trying to figure out what was happening. A task which was getting more difficult by the second. Some of the younger soldiers were shouting, the sergeant screaming at them to shut up as they did so.

The entire machine was surrounded by a baleful green light, sparking like lightning but flowing like water. It covered the metal surrounding us and shimmered menacingly.

That was when everyone got scared. The sergeant, the pilots, the soldiers, all the faces I could see were twisted with fear. I can't help but admit that I myself would have given anything to get the hell out of there at that moment. The windows went dark for several minutes, and when the light returned, a sensation of falling rapidly hit us like a hammer-blow. The green light began piercing through the space, tearing small holes in the sides of the aircraft and missing our bodies by mere inches. I clenched my teeth hard, closed my eyes and waited for it to stop, unsure if I'd ever open them again but not wanting to look at the horrors.

I thought it was some kind of new weapon. I was wrong.

As quickly as it had started, the shuddering and green light stopped. The falling kept up only for the briefest time. The machine crashed hard, the force attempting to throw us around. I heard the groaning of the metal as the impact buckled the floor and a banging noise that was deafening for about a minute. The helicopter decelerated slowly after the impact, before finally coming to an abrupt halt with a crunching noise.

* * *

I raised my head, shaking off the disorientation of the crash as best I could. I smelt a mix of iron and plant-life, proving I was still alive at least. As I realised this, my chest started to throb with pain. I quickly removed the restraints of the chair and checked the damage. I was bruised everywhere, and it hurt badly, but I was still able to move. Great, you're alive, now what about the others?

I looked over to check. I found the soldiers groggily getting out of sitting positions, staggering around as they got their bearings again. They quickly began checking their weapons, a sure sign that they were fine. I breathed a sigh of relief. Being left alone to fend off attackers or the deadly environment was something I was very glad to be spared.

"They're dead," said the sergeant, "And I don't think it was the crash."

I looked at him like he had three heads, wondering who he was talking about. A nod directs my attention to the front cabin.

I turned my head, and find the crew. The the entire forward area was crushed and mangled, as if something had bashed and clawed at it. There was nothing left but a mesh of metal, with blood seeping out of it. I recoiled from the sight. How I had not seen it out of the corner of my eye, I do not know. It was so close that I could reach out and touch it from my seat, if I had wanted to. I stood up, and examined it further. It didn't look like there would be anything to bury.

"I guess we're not flying out of here," I said, returning to the sergeant.

"You haven't seen the best part yet," the man replied, his voice positively dripping with accented sarcasm. Making his way past the soldiers, he walked to the back past the cargo and handcranked open the large exit ramp. It fell to the ground with a thud, and revealed something truly astonishing.

Where there used to be a desert that stretched on for hundreds of miles, a lush oak forest stood. Birds chirping away and all. It was a paradise.

My first thought was that we had landed in an oasis of some sort, some artificial creation of a rich warlord he had created for his own amusement. However, when I looked out, examining the ground and the foliage, I could see no signs of anything remotely artificial to it. Trees wove around each other at random, the brush was thick and untamed, and there was absolutely no geometric pattern to the growth. There were also no men rushing us with weapons, or surprised civilians wandering to see why we'd crashed. My mind raced, as the lower ranked soldiers pushed their way past me. We have a phrase where I'm from, "to enter the twilight zone", which means to discover something so absurd that you think you are dreaming or have gone mad. It is the only thing I can think of to describe my thoughts as I stepped forwards.

The sergeant picked his helmet off his head, showing a shaved head that would have otherwise been balding, and walked out into the sunlight. I followed him, and immediately noticed the intense heat had disappeared. The air was more refreshing, courtesy of a light breeze. The sun wasn't bearing down on us from above, but was lower and the trees provided a good amount of shade. Some of the plant life was torn to shreds, probably by our landing. I stepped onto thick grass, and wandered around for a bit. The others were doing the same thing, examining the trees and ground not with the eye of a soldier, but almost like children. The group spread out, taking in the sights and smells for some time. Before the youngest soldier spoke out, his eyes wide with worry.

"Sarge, where are we?" he said, his voice almost breaking, "What was that green light?"

The spell of the new environment was broken, and the soldiers returned, their faces hardened again.

"Stow it, Patel," came the sergeant's reply, in a firm tone, "We're alive, that's what matters."

"Are we still in enemy territory?" asked another, a particularly tall one with the biggest weapon.

"We have to assume we are, no matter how weird things have gotten," the sergeant continued, "Davis, Murphy, get up on that outcrop of rock over there and set up a nest in case we have company. Bell, Hamilton, get the boxes out and bust open a couple, there should be a radio in one of them. Patel, you bring Miller and have a look around, since you're so interested in where we are. And be careful, I don't think the desert camouflage is going to be much use here."

The young soldier nodded rapidly, taking a gulp of air before taking a slap to the back that forced it out again. Apparently, Miller was enthused by the prospect of having a gander around the place. As I watched the pair walk off, weapons held at the ready, I felt an urge to go along. I began walking to follow, but the sergeant grabbed my shoulder to stop me.

"The name's Fraser," he said, with a big smile on his face, "And you're going to help me destroy the cargo."

We couldn't have known it, but he probably saved my life with that action. I didn't appreciate it however, and shook his hand off quickly. He was inferior in rank to me by all standards, but his smile sent a very clear message. Fall into line like the others, I am in charge here. Displeased by his presumption, I determined to poke holes in his plan. Never let it be said that I am humble.

"If we burn anything, that will draw the enemy to us," I said, facing him, "We'll be outnumbered and surrounded."

"Can't let the weapons fall into enemy hands," he replied insistently, "We destroy them and then move to high ground, try and get a radio signal."

A radio, for future reference, is a way of talking to people over long distances using alchemical means. However, it can be unreliable, and often works best the higher up you are. As for Fraser's plan, I had exactly zero desire to get caught in a glorious last stand, or a fight of any kind in a strange place with no backup. Without knowing where we were going, there was no way we would outrun an attacker, and we could blunder straight into an ambush. I wanted to live to tell someone about what had happened to us. Perhaps it was my dislike for the man's idea at that moment, but I thought him far too confident in his own abilities. I could see that simply repeating my concern about being discovered wasn't going to work.

"What happens if we don't make contact? We can hide the weapons in case we don't find anyone friendly out there," I said, changing tack, "I think I saw some decent sized caves under the outcrop, we can dump these into one, find our bearings and come back if we need to fight."

The sergeant put his hand on his chin, and glanced over at the rocks. I followed his view. The two he had sent to prepare a defensive position were busy piling up stones in a circle at the top for cover, one whistling as he did so. Remarkably casual of him, I thought at the time. Fraser watched them work for a little while, his eyes scanning the rock below them on occasion, before he finally returned his gaze to me.

"You're quite good, for a blue hat," he said, pointing to the light blue beret stuffed under my shoulder strap. I smirked. He had somehow warmed up to me, and I couldn't help but reciprocate a little. Though I think half of it was pleasure at getting my way. He marched over to a box, and handed me a better weapon than the one strapped to my hip.

"Here, make yourself useful," he said as I took it, "I'll have Hamilton help you drag these into the cave to the left there." He pointed to indicate where exactly he wanted to hide the supplies, before moving to the men in question, huddling around the radio equipment.

I sighed, slinging my weapon over my back. The boxes were far from light lifting. However, with Hamilton's help, it was easy going. We hauled most of the supplies into the cave, balancing them on our shoulders before placing them near the back of the cave, where they were least likely to be seen. I even took the time to bury them a little in dirt and vines. I was more than a little paranoid. I started second-guessing myself, thinking I might be killed by some fanatic using the weapons I had hid. I was still under the impression that this was still somehow the fault of a faction in my old world.

* * *

We were almost finished when the ruckus started.

It started with a thudding sound in the distance, like a deep drum very far off. It started slow at first, so much so that I had barely registered it. I nonetheless stopped moving, listening out of curiosity more than fear. A minute passed, and it still sounded like a drum, but it was getting closer.

"Gentlemen, take your positions," said Fraser, pulling his own weapon off his back roughly.

Everyone stopped what they were doing. The men who had built their little fort on top of the ridgeline crouched behind the rocks, pointing their instruments of death around for a target to hit. The others around me ran hard to join them, opting for the safety of the high-ground. I was closest to the noise, and waited for some sign. The beat stopped soon after, but I didn't get up from my hiding spot nor check if the others had. I had a gut feeling that it was the harbinger of something else. I was right. A screeching shout like nothing I had ever heard before came over the top of the trees. It almost seemed to go through me, grating the ear like glass being shattered. The thudding got faster and louder.

My eyes searched everywhere for the source, but I saw nothing. The range of sounds expanded as well, the booming joined by a scrabbling that seemed to punctuate each beat of whatever the hell was making the sounds. I couldn't get my head around what it was. No war machine in my world sounded like that on the move or on the attack, and the closest thing I could compare it with then or now was the sound of horses' hooves on soft ground. If there were a thousand of them. That theory didn't hold up past the first few seconds of it entering my head, and the vibrations off the ground started gaining too.

An acrid smell carried itself on the breeze, reaching my nose. Burning wood, mixed with something I couldn't identify exactly but could only be an incendiary. A bolt of fear went up my spine. Was the enemy attempting to burn down the forest to smoke us out? We wouldn't last very long against a large number of troops if we had to move out of where we were. The smell filled my mouth as I took a breath to steady myself, realising that I stuck out like a sore thumb in front. My original intention had been to catch whoever came to attack by surprise as they concentrated on Fraser's men, but that plan looked increasingly like a bad idea.

Along came Patel, sprinting at full pace, soaked with sweat and covered in dirt. His face was one of complete panic. His eyes almost bulged out of his head, as he swung it back and forth between looking where he was going and trying to see what was behind him. In other words, he was leading whatever the hell was chasing him right to us.

I stood up and waved him over, resisting the urge to shout at him for his stupidity. He ran over, panting almost like a dog. I grabbed him, and pulled him behind the rock I had emerged from using my full weight. He sat hyperventilating, his eyes rolling around in the direction he had come as he tried to get up again. I pushed him to the floor hard, and he cried out in pain. I grabbed his water flask off his belt and handed it to him, as an apology.

"What happened?" I asked, as he drank deeply, gulping down the cool liquid.

"Miller's dead," he rasped, "He's dead. It killed him, roasted him. It's huge."

He shook his head from side to side, hand clasped to the side of his helmet. I looked back at Fraser, who was watching intently. I mouthed to him that Miller was dead, adding in a cut-throat gesture to make sure he knew what I was getting at. Even from a decent distance, I saw his features harden. I turned back to Patel, and asked if it was some sort of war machine with a flamethrower device. He just kept shaking his head, throwing in a soft moan of "No" every few seconds. I thought he had lost it entirely, but I soon saw there was good reason to go mad. It swung into view through the treeline some distance away, gaining my attention by smashing through the trees themselves. I peered over the rock ever so slightly.

* * *

It was a dragon.

It was jet-black, except for a red tongue. Its head tilted around, as if curious as to where its prey had went. The beast had huge bones that grew out of the side of its skull and extended far past the back of it, shaped almost like bulls' horns. Its eyes were black too, and peered out over a snout containing a multitude of huge, knife-like teeth. Behind, a long, thick neck was attached to a lizard's body. It extended to a huge muscular tail. Grey wings sprouted from the shoulders of the thing on another set of black limbs. Huge claws tipped its other extremities, gripping the brown soil as it walked.

I sat back down behind the rock, numb with shock. The fear of death was there, but I had dealt with that before and overcome it. I still believed we could survive the encounter, however long the odds. Warriors of my world are mighty. No, what struck me almost to the point of uselessness was that I had realised what I should have immediately. There are no dragons on Earth. Tales about them were entirely the product of men's minds, no evidence of them had ever been found. They didn't exist, in other words. We were on another world, without any way of getting back. This was actually off the mark, as I would later discover, as I was further from home than even that. For a minute, all I could think about was how it was even possible. Instant travel between worlds was deemed impossible by our scholars, as far as I knew. The green energy that had stolen us from our home betrayed none of its secrets.

"It's a dragon," whispered Patel, tears and despair in his eyes. I don't think the young soldier had ever saw real combat, never mind a comrade in arms killed. I felt sorry for him, but I didn't need him attracting the damn beast either.

"Yeah, I saw," I growled back, "Don't move, I don't think it's seen us yet."

"OPEN FIRE!" roared Fraser, the others preferring the action to the words. The cliff-face erupted in a cacophony of noise and flashes, as the soldiers began to fight. Some might ask if that was a stupid move, attacking instead of hiding, but knowing what I know now, the thing would have found our scent pretty quickly. Except it would have been closer, and we would be fried. So my compatriots' actions were pretty much the

The weapons of my world are unlike anything seen in Thedas, with one exception. For lack of a better term, they are repeating firelances or handcannons. The types used by footsoldiers can mow down entire groups of men at a time, and hit individual targets at a distance that an archer or crossbowman could only dream of. And those are only weapons that are held by a single soldier. Larger firelances and cannons, often mounted on war-machines, can destroy entire buildings or entire armies with a mere handful of shots. The Qunari have at various times attempted to develop a firelance, a smaller version of their own cannons. My people's weapons make the Qunari look like a tribe of witless morons throwing rocks by comparison, and those are just the firelances. Three hundred Orlesian _chevaliers_ could have charged us on horseback, in full armour of the highest quality, and Fraser's soldiers would have cut them down in a matter of seconds.

The dragon didn't get that message.

It began to march through the hail of the firelances, letting out a deep growl as the shots impacted its body. It did not relent a single inch. It closed its eyes and mouth shut, and waded on through the hellstorm unleashed against it. Dark ichor poured from handfuls of wounds, but it pressed on. I watched in horror, my confidence ebbing away with every step the foul creature made towards the cliff, replaced with the feeling of my heart attempting to escape my chest. Patel grabbed at me in terror, but I held him off. My eyes glued themselves to the dragon's approach, my head barely held high enough to see over the top. We were an easy target compared to the others.

The firing slowed. All but one of the soldiers began to reload their weapons.

The dragon reared up, and let out a huge roar. It had found an opening. It stretched out its neck, and its mouth gaped open. The soldiers ducked behind their makeshift wall, as a stream of fire sprayed out at them. The trees behind them blazed, the fire sticking, but it was obvious that the dragon wasn't close enough. The edge of the cliff protected against the flames.

When the dragon stopped, the soldiers rose again with a shout of their own, a mix of curses and incoherent noise. It began forwards again, responding to their challenge with a roar of its own. They unleashed their second barrage. It had walked close enough that I began to hear the bullets impact the body of the beast, wet thumping just barely audible over the firelances. It was getting very close indeed at this point, and I started to worry that it would see Patel and I in our hiding spot.

I pivoted from the carnage in front of me, searching for somewhere better. The helicopter, smashed against the cliff, was the only option and it was a bad one. It would have turned into an oven for us. The cliffs themselves cut us off from the directions we could have run, the rest of the forest being far too close to the dragon for comfort. The frustration overruled my fear for a moment, and I kicked the ground hard, almost hitting Patel. I glanced at the poor fellow as an apology, but found our salvation. He had it with him the whole time. That made me want to shoot him myself, but he was sobbing and calling for his mother quietly. He was done, or so I thought. I refrained from following my instinct, I peeked over the top to see if we'd have time to carry out my plan.

The shooting was taking its toll on the beast. It was wobbling on its legs slightly, as they had sprouted several dozen bloody holes in the minutes before. Worth a shot, I decided. I pulled Patel away from the rock and into the forest when I was sure the dragon wouldn't see. It pounded forwards, getting dangerously close to Fraser and his men. It seemed obsessed, as I had hoped for. "Just keep on moving along, little fire wyrm," I kept thinking, as I took the weapon off of Patel's back.

It was a rocket launcher, a far more destructive weapon than a firelance or even the rockets you occasionally see used by the Qunari Navy. It is the basis of the fireworks that many now enjoy, I might add, though enjoyment is far from its original purpose. Contained in a tube, the rocket was designed to punch through the reinforced composite armours of my world's war machines. No kind of flesh could resist it, not even dragonhide. I had no idea why Patel hadn't tried to use it before, and as I said, I was enraged at him for it. Unfortunately, I would discover that he never got the opportunity and I would be saddled with a guilt that I still cannot shake even all these years later.

As I readied the weapon, disaster struck.

The dragon rushed the last hundred yards, half-jumping and half-flying, landing right below where it needed to be. I watched from the side as it rose onto its hind legs, its chest level with the top of the cliff. I thought it would simply burn the men alive, but it dragged its huge arms across the top of the cliff, rolling them down onto the ground. I hurried, but knew I would be too late to save all of them.

The sergeant got up and used his firelance again, but the dragon responded with lethality. It tore him in half with its jaws, spitting out his upper half with quarts of blood. The others spread out, backing off while firing, somehow still determined to fight. The dragon summoned its breath one last time, and caught them all as it arced the fire from one of the poor souls to the next. I felt nothing at that moment, high with combat fever and filled with hate.

Their deaths gave me the opportunity to kill it.

As it stood still to attack, I shot the rocket at the dragon. The blast from its propellent boomed behind me as it left its tube, the cliff echoing it back to me. The rocket detonated into the dragon's body, just below the wings held upwards in a display of intimidation.

I cursed, tossing the empty launcher away to the ground. I had been aiming for the neck, hoping to choke it or suffocate it on its own blood. The dragon had hopped forward slightly to kill Murphy, just before I fired. However, it soon became apparent that I had hit something important. The wound began seeping blood at a rapid rate, the ichor almost like a waterfall over its scales. It turned in a haze towards me. It screeched at us, failing to summon more fire to turn me to ash. Patel joined me in staring it down, his weapon held at shoulder height. It took two steps towards us and fell, and started breathing heavily.

I walked towards the dragon, unslinging my firelance as I moved. As I neared, its head twitched towards me, and with a great snap, it tried to bite me. It missed, and slumped to the ground again. I smiled, probably closer to a snarl if I'm being honest, and levelled my weapon at its eye. It looked at me with resignation, but I felt no pity after what I had just witnessed. I shot it repeatedly point-blank. Its breathing stopped immediately.

I felt relief for only the briefest of moments.

Behind me, I heard another screech, far less potent but just as terrifying, followed by Patel shooting his weapon. I swivelled on the spot, firelance ready. The dragon had not been alone. From the brush behind, about six dragonlings were emerging from the brush and charging us down. The group were very much the offspring of their mother, being jet-black, horned animals with big claws, but almost all of them lacked wings. They were about the size of a wolf. I backed off, and shouted to Patel to do the same. The one that had the means to fly came right at me from on top of the very rock I had hid behind moments before.

I shot it on reflex, hitting its left wing. It flinched in mid-jump, and tumbled out of the air. I felt a sense of victory instantly, but I suspected afterwards that I was still buzzing on my fight or flight response. As if to piss me off, the winged one recovered before I could get another decent shot off, rolling over and getting back on its feet. The damned thing hissed at me as it dodged one way and the other. To make matters worse, its brother decided I was easier prey than Patel, and growled as it wandered over. Caught between the two of them, I was forced to act or get eaten.

Watching the newcomer in the corner of my eye, I charged at the winged one. Startled, it held still for a moment, unsure of what to do. I took the chance and shot it, getting about five good hits along its flank and one on its head. The headshot ricocheted off, which disturbed me more than a little, but the others turned the hissing winged lizard into a whimpering, dying creature. I delivered the coup de grace quickly with another burst from my firelance. The other one lunged at me ferociously while my back was turned. I barely escaped by jumping over the corpse of its sibling. A feeling of elation at getting away causing me to chuckle, as the newcomer tried to circle the body in its way.

I glanced over at Patel. He was holding off four of them through sheer will. Sure he was about to run out of things to shoot at them any moment soon, I readied myself for the inevitable assault. The second dragonling finally deemed it okay to jump on top of its sister's corpse. I pretended to flee, which was the first thing I could think of. The dragonling sprung forward in triumph, voicing its pleasure at my capitulation with an almost gleeful roar. I turned around quickly, and shot at its mouth. Some of the bullets burst through the side of its head, but one or two must have went down its throat. It plummeted to the ground mid-step, dragging itself through the dirt in the process. I stepped over its corpse with no small amount of satisfaction, and went to help the only other person left.

Patel had climbed on top of the rock we had sheltered with, as the beasts circled and attempted to jump on him. He had matched my two with two of his own, and the results laid still on the ground near him. They hadn't gone down without a fight though; his leg was bloody and getting bloodier. He sat, moving his weapon wildly and taunting the dragonlings to try again. He must have had some sort of epiphany in the wake of the mother dragon going down. He was barely recognisable from the sobbing, broken person that had sat beside me hiding. Eager to support the refreshed man, I took aim at the nearest target as he distracted it with his hollering.

I pulled the trigger, but my weapon did nothing but click at me. I had run out of shot.

What happened next plays in my head on the bad nights. I scrambled for the small handcannon I kept on my hip, but it would be too late. Patel's weapon was also spent, and he cursed loudly to signal it. The dragonlings sprung into action, as if understanding him.

Patel also had a backup weapon, and rather than duck away in terror, he leapt at the first chance. The front dragonling bit deeply into his arm, but he put his weapon to the creature's eye and shot it dead. He had copied what I had done to its mother, attacking its most obviously vulnerable point. I raised my own weapon to shoot, but Patel was in the way. The last of the dragons had crept up the rock behind him, and I dared not risk the shot. I shouted a warning, but in the end, I watched the jaws of the beast clamp down on his torso over his shoulder. There was a loud and sickening crunch as it broke his ribs, its eyes dead set on me as I could only watch in disgust. It released him, and jumped down from Patel's rock, bloodlust compelling it to try and kill me.

I stood my ground and shot at it with contempt. I had figured their kind out. It closed the distance, screeching as it did so. As it jumped to the attack, I sidestepped and I shot it where Patel had hit its fellow. It might as well have killed itself, the shot was so easy. It didn't have the experience to protect itself properly. I kicked the corpse as I passed, its death moan escaping as a cry.

I hurried to Patel, to see if he could be saved. I hoisted myself onto the rock. His sand-coloured, patterned uniform was awash with his blood, stained red. I couldn't see any of his insides, a fact I thank my lucky stars for daily, but I didn't need to. He was still conscious when I reached him, but unable to speak. It was obvious he wouldn't last long, no matter what I did.

"Thank you," I said. Without him, and the others, I would have been dead. I needed to express my gratitude to at least one of them. I'm not sure if he heard me before he passed.

* * *

I spent the next few hours burying the dead.

It was an uneasy task for many reasons. The fires spread no small distance, raising the temperature to uncomfortable levels again. That was the least of my worries. Handling the broken or burned people that had acted with complete professionalism in the face of a foe they could not have dreamed of the day before was hardest. They hadn't flinched for a moment. It was both glorious to watch and disheartening that they were gone. I also attempted to do something for the crew of the flying machine, but their bodies were too far gone. I had to burn what I could find. Our transport to Thedas remains their monument.

I took everything useful off of those who hadn't been burned, everything from weapons to boots, and put them in graves beside each other with personal items I found in their packs. Fraser turned out to have a set of writings on military strategy, which I kept. I filled in the graves and marked them appropriately. On the makeshift headstones, I wrote in black permanent ink their names and drew both the symbols of their country and each of their gods. It didn't take long, the ground was soft and porous.

And so I was alone.

Left with little choice, I followed my survival training. I searched everything, taking stock of what I had to use. As I had expected, the boxes were full of things more or less useless to me. Weapons, ammunition, armour, defensive implements, all the things you would need to fight a small war but no food or water. There was only one surprise in the lot; one of the boxes was practically a library, containing books on a very wide range of topics. I found this confusing, I had been told that only military supplies were being brought with us and that essentials for citizens were going later. Unable to use any of them to survive, I tossed Fraser's books in with the rest and sealed the container.

The contents of the soldiers' packs and the storage of the helicopter were more useful. A medical kit, various tools, compasses, some pre-cooked rations and bottles of water, and spare clothing were all on the go, though I couldn't take all of them. A large collection of maps from my world, mostly of the regions where we had been operating, suddenly had great sentimental value to me. Despite being of no use at all, I decided to bring some of them along, particularly ones depicting the entirety of my world. The weapons that had fought off the dragon I buried with their owners, as I had no shortage of things to defend myself with, with one exception. The larger firelance belonging to Murphy I wrapped up, and deposited at the very back of the cave. Considering I could take on a small army with it if I needed to, I had no intention of letting it rust away underground.

When the packing of both my own bags and the cave was complete, I was at a loss at what to do next. The land I was in was entirely alien to me. I couldn't stay at the battle site, there was nothing to eat and nothing to drink. But where to go? My training told me to seek high ground and get my bearings, but I was in another world. Simply looking around wasn't going to work.

In the end, I opted to stay and rest. I was exhausted both physically and mentally. I wouldn't be marching around anywhere on my own.

With nothing better to do but wait for sunset, I pulled the largest fangs out of the dragon's mouth. The things were easily the size of my forearm from root to tip, and felt almost like metal. One of them had a chip, where a bullet had struck it and deflected away. Having completed my revenge and gained some souvenirs, I went back to the helicopter, laid out a sleeping bag and decided to go to sleep without waiting for night. Which was a mistake, in all likelihood. Regardless, I fell into a dreamless slumber in no time at all.

* * *

I was woken from my sleep with a rough boot to my side, which restarted some of the pain I felt from the crash along my shoulders. In the heat of the battle, it had gone away. It came screaming back with a vengeance.

I opened my eyes to three thin swordpoints, pressing against my chest.

My annoyance at being woken so violently turned to resignation. I was too tired to be surprised at the discovery of other human beings. It was just another unpleasant surprise, that I could do nothing about. Except die, but I had no intention of doing that. I tracked the blades' edges to the hands holding them, and the faces looking down at me. I became transfixed on one, who eclipsed the others whom could only have been his subordinates in every meaning of that word.

A beautifully ornate golden mask stared down at me, mimicking a human visage with perfect features. The man's own face was invisible, even his eyes in the low light of the evening were covered. Yet I could feel the contempt pouring off of him, even through what must have been a cloud of perfume. Perhaps because of the perfume. As you have probably guessed, he was an Orlesian noble. At the time however, he just looked like a madman with a sword and too much money to me. Along with the two unmasked ones, he wore a gold-threaded blue robe and chainmail. His sword's hilt was also gold.

I began reaching for my weapon, but Goldie noticed the action and moved his sword to my neck, the pointy end just brushing my skin. He was ready to thrust at the slightest provocation. He seemed to be enjoying himself, the bastard, which was the second sign of trouble in as many seconds.

"Did you kill the dragon?" asked Goldie.

I was struck dumb by the question, but because of its content but the accent in which he spoke. It was the first time I heard an Orlesian speak. It was identical to an accent I was very familiar with. He sounded as if he was from a country in my world, one allied to my homeland and the land where Fraser's soldiers were from.

Goldie sighed, displeased at my silence. He applied a little more pressure for a moment, turning the sword as he did so. I felt the blood leak out of the wound he caused, but hardened my face. He was trying to intimidate me, I refused to play along.

"If I killed a dragon, shouldn't you be scared?" I mused, with the most cheeky smile I could muster.

The man snorted with derision at that, pulling his sword away.

"Get him up," he ordered, "Take his items too."

The two footmen held their swords at their waists, points towards me, as they hauled my tired ass out of the helicopter. Another dozen men-at-arms were on horseback, watching me or gawking at the dead dragon. The fires had gone out, and the damp smell indicated that it had rained heavily at some point. I wondered for a moment if the waterproof seals of the containers in the cave were working. Goldie's boys hadn't seemed to discover my little cache yet, probably because the tracks leading there had been covered by the downpour. There was a scribe of some sort as well, scribbling away as he walked.

The leader had his men push me to my knees, and then pointed at the fresh graves.

"I am not afraid of you because you did not act alone," said Goldie sharply, his heavy accent rising, "I shall ask you again, did you kill the dragon and its young?"

Sure they would kill me off-hand if I didn't answer, and given the evidence all around, I told the truth. With some omissions so they wouldn't think I was utterly insane.

"I helped kill the large one and half of the smaller ones," I replied.

"And the others?" Goldie continued.

I pointed at Patel's gravestone. "He was a brave man," I said.

He looked at it for a moment, then nodded to me.

"What is your name?" he asked.

"Clint Eastwood," I lied, thinking of the first fictional name to come to mind.

"Where are you from?" he asked.

"The Wild West," I replied without hesitation. No way I was going to tell him that I was from another world.

Goldie chuckled haughtily at that, as if it was a joke. I laughed along with him, because it was a joke. Clint Eastwood was an actor who played a bounty hunter in the west of my homeland, but he couldn't know that.

"You claim to be a foreigner from uncharted lands, yet you speak the common tongue. With a ridiculous dwarven accent, no less. You even look like a Fereldan bandit," he said, "You are a bad liar."

He was babbling at this point, so I decided to convince him. There were things from another world all around him. I thought it would be easy enough. Trying to avoid getting stabbed by his shiny sword was my reason for existence at this point. Surviving a dragon only to be killed by this twat would have been an irony too far.

"Look at my clothing, the wreck behind me, the symbols on my uniform and on the graves," I explained, carefully skirting the subject of weaponry, "Have you seen anything like them before?"

Looking from side to side, he scanned the crashsite one last time, before returning his gaze to me. He was silent for a moment.

"Perhaps not, but I am not qualified to say. For all I know, these things are the secret work of our enemies," he said, "You are a foreign apostate and you have admitted to a crime. You must be tried."

"Wait, what!" I shouted, rising to my feet. The footmen kicked the back of my knees, and I fell down again. I spat at the bastard, but he dodged in time. He shook his finger at me, and had me beaten for a moment.

Goldie waved, and two horsemen rode over to him, ready to receive orders.

"Take the cart, and bring him to the _grand-parlement_ at Halamshiral," he said casually, "Let the authorities there deal with him. Bring the scribe and the apostate's effects as evidence, and give my regards to the judge. Maybe we shall be rewarded by the royal court, if the Empress has moved there yet."

"Should we dig up the graves, bring the bodies?" said one man, not relishing the prospect despite voicing it.

"No need, this one is obviously guilty," Goldie giggled, "I mean, look at him."

A sycophantic laugh went through the group like a plague, catching on like it was high fashion. I would have been pissed off, but I could barely stand on my own. My fatigue was still very much present, not to mention my injuries.

"You'll regret this," I said, "I swear it."

"No, _monsieur_ , you will regret it!" declared Goldie happily, "I am just glad I caught you before you could do more harm."

* * *

The aristocratic bastard rode off with his thugs after he had another good look at the helicopter, and I was unceremoniously shackled and dumped in the back of a covered wagon. My pack and weapons were locked in a heavy chest and put on the back of it. It rumbled through the rough terrain for several minutes, before we reached something recognisable as a road. The guards closed the window hatch, probably to stop me seeing the exact road back. Every second took me further away from where I had arrived.

I considered attempting to escape, but the odds were too long. My guards were mounted on horses, I couldn't outrun them. Even if I could evade them for long enough, with nothing but the clothes on my back, tired and depressed, I would probably die quickly anyway. I couldn't think straight to begin with, or what any of what had happened really meant.

I still needed to sleep, so I did. The shaking and bumping of the cart did not disturb me.

I must have slept for more than twelve hours, because when I awoke again, it was afternoon. I received the same alarm call as I had before: A kick to my side. The guard jumped off the cart quickly, before I could grab him, and motioned for me to get out. I dragged myself up and hopped onto the cobblestone square outside.

What I saw when I looked up was yet more proof that I wasn't in my own world.

Halamshiral's Winter Palace stretched into the sky above the walls surrounding what I guessed was a prison, smooth blue and white stone rising to meet the sun. Gold and bronze ornaments sat on every part of it. It rose in stages, like a wedding cake, flanked by high towers and buttresses. Green vines clung to its side near the bottom; there must have been a large garden below. It struck me as an amazing feat of engineering, more than being simply beautiful. It was a skyscraper, to use the term I had in mind at the time. I did not know its name the first time I saw it, but it gave me a little hope for my situation. The people who designed such a thing could not be so primitive, or so I believed.

As I stared at the wonder, a bag was thrown over my head and I was pushed onwards. I cursed at them, but all I got in return was a hard slap on the back of the head. Not sensing that the moment to act had arrived, I clenched my fist and ate the insult. Another shove, and I paced forwards, directed by my minders.

Across the cobblestones, into a corridor, up a flight of stairs which I almost fell down, through another corridor and down another staircase. At this point, the guards stopped our travel and I sensed another two or three people in front of us.

"One from the south, murder, apostasy, insulting the dignity of a noble. Scribe will have the details later," said one of my captors, "Careful with him, he's very dangerous."

A dirty laugh erupted from in front of me somewhere. I could only ask myself what the hell they were talking about. Murder? I killed a dragon, not a person. As for apostasy, I was a foreigner, they could hardly expect me to know of and follow their religion. Of course, the law is a complicated thing, especially to someone with no knowledge of local customs. They had me cold on the insulting the dignity of a noble charge though.

"Good, we've been looking for one like this to soften up a hardcase," said a man in front, whom I assumed must have been a prison guard, "Won't tell us where the money she owes is. Looks like he can do the job."

"Just make sure he's ready for when the judge needs him," said my other captor.

"Oh, he'll have fun, don't you worry," said the gaoler.

I began to worry myself, as I was moved again. We reached a dark place that could have really used some fresh air. Definitely a dungeon. We stopped, and the guards turned me to the left. I heard metal creaking, the signal for a door opening. My chains were struck off, and they fell to the ground with a clank. I rubbed my wrists for a moment, which made me feel a little better.

Until they shoved me backwards into the cell, removing my hood just as I fell on my ass.

"Enjoy yourselves," snickered the guard, who turned out to be a rather short man with a balding issue. No need to guess why he wanted to be a prison guard, I could tell he was on a power trip from a single glance. I didn't take his meaning about enjoyment. His helpers were not small, and they put the chest with my equipment across the corridor in a storage room. I watched as he locked it, and waddled away with the henchmen.

With a feeble exhale of breath, I lay down on my back and closed my eyes for a moment, trying to work out some sort of plan. I was quickly reminded by the sound of shuffling feet on stone that I wasn't alone. Groaning, I opened my eyes to see what sort of evil bastard they had thrown me to, like a bone for a dog.

A beautiful woman stood over me, a pair of green eyes looking down at my face.

"Hello?" she said, with a raised eyebrow. Once again, I was speechless.


	2. Chapter 2: For Love and Justice

**Chapter Two: For Love and Justice**

She was tall and thin, with long brown hair framing a face that had my heart jumping out of my chest for a reason other than fear. The aforementioned green eyes seemed to search me, as if she was trying to figure me out. She seemed to be wearing linen work clothes of some kind padded with leather, like something you'd see in a museum in my world, and she filled them out very well indeed. They had smudges of dirt as well. I looked up at her for a moment, appreciating the sight.

"Well?" she said impatiently, expecting a reaction beyond gawking.

I lifted myself onto my feet, and rubbed my throbbing head, turning towards her. Her eyes turned from concerned curiosity to fearful hostility in the space of a blink.

"By Andraste, you are a big one," the woman said, taking a boxing stance, "Right then! Let's get this over with."

She wasn't much smaller than I was, but I doubted there were too many people over six foot in this world anyway. I opened my mouth to speak, as she took a rather impressive swing at me. The punch landed on my left cheek, and I took it fully, unable to react in my surprise. I staggered backwards against the iron bars separating the cell from the corridor. Very much to her credit, she pressed her advantage, moving forwards and throwing a low blow with all the exertion she could muster. She was damned fast too. She would have had me with a solid gutshot, if I hadn't been wearing my world's armour. The gaoler wanted me to have every advantage.

Her fist impacted against the thin ceramic and metal plates underneath the fabric, and she recoiled in pain. I stood up straight again, with a hand to my face. She shook her hand in the air and resumed her stance. Worried about where this was going, and frankly having no desire to try to harm such an impressively spirited person, I tried to lower tensions.

"Can we stop this, please?" I asked, "I don't want to hurt you."

"They want you to hurt me, you wouldn't be here otherwise," she replied, "That's what Baldy wants especially."

I frowned. So much for the justice of a country that could build marvels. Her words didn't make much sense to me. If a gaoler wanted to break a prisoner, why not just do it themselves? It didn't seem like there was a lot of oversight going on.

"I don't understand, why aren't those two thugs of his in here instead of me?" I asked, "What's the point?"

"I have information they want, but if I injure any of them, they'll be in as much trouble," she replied, not moving an inch from her fighting stance, "They told me they were going to put someone dangerous in here to teach me a lesson. Implied I was going to be used badly until I gave it up."

I still didn't get the idea completely, but I knew the laws of where I was were entirely alien from how absurdly I had been charged. I bought her story, simply because it clicked with what facts I could gather. She thought I was put in here to beat and abuse her, it was little wonder she was ready to pounce. My impression of the new world dropped further, and after recovering greatly from her appearance too. Pissed off at my circumstances, I leaned back against the bars and rubbed my temples. What a mess.

"I will do no such thing," I said firmly, "These guys have screwed me too, there's no chance I'm going to be their attack dog. If I can do something to prove that, please tell me."

She looked me over again from head to toe, and lowered her fists. I held my hands up towards her. She had no small amount of power behind her arms of, and I really didn't want to be hit again. I wasn't going to hit her regardless.

"Your boots," she said finally.

"Huh?" I asked, not sure what she meant exactly.

"Give me your boots, and we'll call it even," she stated boldly, pointing at them, "Can't hurt me without them."

I looked at my feet for a second, and then back at her. That was when I noticed her own feet were bare, and bleeding a little. No problem guessing why she really wanted them. My contempt for my captors increased another notch, closing in on "murder them all" territory at a rapid pace. I went to the wooden bench passing for bed in the cell and sat down. She backed off a little as I moved, but I nodded my assent to her proposal, and she resumed her place. I untied my boots and pulled them off, and set them down together at the other end.

She picked them both up from the top between her thumb and fingers, turning them around as she examined them at eye level. She gave me a weird look, like she was confused about what exactly she was holding. Eventually, she seemed satisfied enough to wear them, sitting down at the other end to try them out. I tucked my feet under me, to avoid soaking my socks in whatever the hell it was on the floor, and leaned on the wall. As she fiddled with the laces, I couldn't help but comment on one thing.

"Sorry they're not your size," I said, smirking.

"Better than nothing," she replied with a smile, "What are they made of?"

"Nylon," I said, matter-of-factly, "Doubt you know what that is though."

"Nope, not a clue," she said, putting her feet back to the ground, "Seems sturdy, though the guards might steal them like my first pair."

"There are more where those came from," I said, truthfully enough. Though another pair were in the storage room, it would require escaping and marching back to where I landed to get replacements. Which might not fit me.

The two of us sat on the bench, watching the wall in silence. Me and my dirty, desert-pattern uniform, bootless. Her and her dirty workclothes, swinging her feet in the boots to see if they'd come off, and tying the laces tighter. The temptation to stare at her as she did this was pretty intense, not least because it was her doing it, but I resisted. I didn't want to creep her out.

After a few minutes, it was her creeping me out a little.

She ceased her adjustments to her new footwear, and stared at me herself. It got worse. She slid over to sit right beside me, and began touching my uniform. The patches with the symbols of my old world, the fabric of my sleeve and armour. Poked my blue beret, still tucked into the shoulder strap. She even rapped her knuckles off the armour covering my torso. Evidently a whimsical person, I let her continue the examination without a word. Like I said, I was smitten by her.

Once this was complete, she tugged at my sleeve. I turned my head, and found her leaning in to whisper.

"You're not from around here, are you?" she said with no small degree of certainty.

A thin but wide smile broke out on my face, despite my attempt to control it. It was the understatement of the entire age, I think. I calmed down and looked at her again, to make sure I hadn't insulted her by that response. She just seemed interested, so I told her the truth.

"I don't even know where here is," I replied, "The town, region, country, nothing."

She got up and stood in front of me, hands on her hip.

"Well then, it is my solemn pleasure to welcome you to Halamshiral, winter capital of the Empire of Orlais!" she declared in an accent that Goldie The Noble Prick would have appreciated, a far cry from her own more restrained Orlesian tones. She then bowed low, pulling at the sides of her work tunic like it was the folds of a ball dress. I laughed, captivated by the woman entirely. Definitely my type, I remember thinking.

"What do they call you?" I asked, as she returned to her place. She glanced at me for a second.

"Julie Marteau," she said, "You?"

"Sam Hunt," I replied, "At your service."

We shook hands warmly, as if we were meeting at a dinner party and not in a prison. Her hands were rough, as expected. She was no court lady in those days.

"Well Sam, what are you in for?" Julie asked jokingly, "No, let me guess. You buggered a sheep, bit the head off of a nug, and then killed the farmer who tried to stop you!"

I put my head in my hands, trying to contain myself. I was crying with laughter. The conversation was just so crazy, particularly with everything that had happened. And what the hell was a nug?

"Close enough. Killed a dragon, and spat on a noble that came to arrest me," I chuckled.

"As if that happened," she said, breaking into giggles, "What are you charged with?"

"Oh, nothing much. Murder, apostasy, insulting the dignity of a noble," I said, "Except I didn't kill anyone, I don't know anything about the religion here, and... well, I did insult the noble."

"You don't seem like the type to kill people for no reason, at least once you open your mouth. Sounds like you annoyed the wrong noble," Julie said seriously, "You'll get executed, if you're found guilty. Are you even a mage?"

I snorted, amused at the question. Magic too? Really? Dragons I had seen with my own eyes, but magic? Didn't buy it. I do now, of course, but people have tried to kill me with it since. I have to admit, I was happy that she didn't recoil in horror at the murder charge too.

"No, I am not a mage," I said, incredulous that she had even asked, "What about you?"

"I can work magic, but not that kind," she replied flatly.

"I meant, why is someone like you in a place like this?" I continued.

Her smile disappeared. "Non-payment of taxes, striking a _chevalier_ ," she said, lowering her head, "It was a stupid thing to do, I could have given them the extra money."

"No, you did the right thing," I said immediately.

She looked at me like I was mad. Or a stupid foreigner, which I was. I sighed, and thought how best to explain myself.

"If you don't have a say in how things are, so why should you pay?" I continued, "What makes them so noble?"

"What makes them noble is that they have armies that can kill us if we disobey," Julie replied, "They claim it's blood, of course, but I have eyes and ears. Gold and steel matter more."

I inclined my head, conceding the point. It's not like popular rule was a natural thing in my world either. When I left, many countries were still run by tyrants of one sort or another, and they all had armies of fanatics, conscripts or mercenaries to keep it that way. Sometimes all three. Once upon a time, every nation was like that, but there were some who had resisted. My homeland most prominently of all. Though we had our own problems.

"If you don't resist, nothing changes," I said, "Where I'm from, we don't have nobles. People choose their leaders, and they're free to do anything they please, as long as it doesn't harm anyone else. For the most part."

Julie regarded me through narrowed eyes, leaning in again. I guessed that she didn't believe me, but then, I had told her a story that probably sounded too far-fetched.

"I'm sure," she said, her tone indicating the opposite, "Where _are_ you from?"

My eyes flickered upwards, as I decided what to tell her. I wanted to say that I was from another world, that I was kidnapped with others, and that they were all dead now except me. But it wasn't the right time. I received an elbow to the side for my delay in answering, and I returned my attention to the attacker.

"No lying," she said firmly, "You're going to die, and I'm going to prison for the rest of my life. Be honest."

I winced at her sharp perception, not to mention her sharp foresight. I really wanted to tell her, the first friendly face I'd seen since arriving in this freakish place, but still wasn't ready to confess.

"I can't tell you, you wouldn't believe me," I said, finally.

Julie threw her hands up in frustration, before slapping them down on her thighs.

"Bah, you're no fun!" she said, "Does it really matter if I don't believe?"

"Yes, it does," I replied instantly. As much as I liked her, I didn't know her well enough yet to trust such a secret to her. She could sell the interesting tale to the authorities for a pardon. Or she could be accused of lying about it if she tried, resulting in greater punishment. Either outcome would have been undesirable. Besides, she thinking I was crazy wasn't the best way to cultivate trust. I was alone and didn't want to be, so I desperately wanted to protect her for that reason. I know how that sounds, but it is simple truth.

I watched as she shook her head. We kept quiet again for a while after that, as she processed what I had said and I thought about what a big fool I was for saying it. It seemed pointless, as either I would escape or I would be tried and executed. My mental fatigue hadn't yet passed. She moved along the bench again to lean in against the corner, and closed her eyes. I wasn't sure if she was pretending to sleep or not, so I left her to it.

* * *

For a couple of hours, I thought about what I would say to the judge. I constructed a fiction about my purpose, based on what I knew and what I had guessed about the new world. It probably wouldn't hold up under any serious scrutiny, but I needed to say something to buy time. Once that was figured out, I called it Plan B and I decided to work on Plan A.

I looked around the cell for weaknesses. The rock seemed solid, but the mortar looked like it could be scratched away with a bit of persistence. I rubbed some of it off with my hand, my fingers covered in grounded dust as I did so. It was better than nothing, but I doubted I would have the time to dig my way out. I might be kept in the cell for a few days at most, and I would probably be moved to a separate cell once the gaoler realised that I wasn't abusing Julie for him. Not to mention that my weapons and equipment were across the corridor behind a locked door, and escaping without them would probably see me returned to a cell quickly.

My searching moved to the window. It was an arrowslit, a long but thin gap in the wall that allowed only the barest amount of light into the cell. From that, I guessed that the prison was an old castle of some kind. It was located on the bottom half of the back wall, undoubtedly doubling as a privy. I doubted we were on the ground floor of the building, as the draft from outside was strong. So, no squeezing through and leaping to safety. A plan that still left me without weapons or food in the middle of a city in a country I didn't know.

Lastly, the metal bars of the cell itself. They made up the entire fourth wall of the room, and seemed more solidly placed than the brickwork. They seemed to be made of iron, but the colour was off somehow, brighter than it should have been and not rusting. A crossbar ran through the lot, so there was no chance of tying two of the bars together and using my belt to bend one. The door itself was a frame with similar bars on it, on pin hinges, with a large lock mechanism. At a glance, I could tell that with time I could have probably gotten it open, but I didn't have time.

Frustrated, seeing no way out, I got up and tried to lift the door off its hinges. The door moved, but I couldn't get a good grip on the metal. The bars' edges bit into my skin as I put all of my strength into it, drawing a little blood. In the end, I was overwhelmed and the door slammed down onto its hinges again.

I rubbed my bloody hands, and stepped away from the door.

"It's no use," said Julie, approaching from behind, "It's silverite-sheathed iron, too heavy to lift and too strong to break or bend."

"Had to try," I said, "Being stuck in this place will make me go crazy."

Julie pat me on the shoulder in mock consolation, with a quiet giggle to herself. She went to return to her spot in the corner, but stopped dead when she was interrupted. The sound of keys moving locks down the hall echoed through the chamber. The time of judgment had come, I guessed.

"Here, take back your boots," she said, sitting down and quickly removing them, "And play along."

I had no idea what she was talking about. The padding of feet were approaching rapidly. I stuck my head out of our cage to see. It was Baldy and the two tall stooges, the former swinging his keys around and beginning to whistle. I frowned, guessing that he was looking forward to see my handiwork. The punishment for disappointing him would be severe, I suspected, but I wasn't going to visit harm on someone just to avoid it myself. I guess that is my problem generally, I'm a masochist like that.

I wouldn't have to find out what he had in store for me, though.

When I turned back to Julie, I found her curled up on the bench, clutching her knees. Her hair was messed up, covering her face in a tangle. Her clothes were pulled half off of her, revealing her shoulders and belly. She was barefoot again too, my boots hidden underneath the bench. She rocked slightly in her seat, and mumbled to herself. My eyes widened at the sight. I wondered what she was played at, but it soon clicked.

She was pretending I had done as I was bidden to do. I had no idea why she had bothered as I watched her, but the temptation to applaud the performance was almost total. I often said she should have been an actor, rather than what she actually did for a living, but that's neither here nor there.

Baldy arrived, and a big toothy smile broke over his face at the sight of her.

"You did a real job on her, didn't you mate?" he said gleefully, "Had lots of fun."

"You could say that," I replied, containing the urge to grab him through the bars.

"I see it cost you a little, not too much I hope," he continued. I looked at him funny, not sure what he meant until he pointed at his own cheek. He was referring to where Julie had hit me, and I later discovered there was a fairly substantial bruise.

"Nothing I couldn't handle," I said, shaking my head.

Baldy turned to the other occupant of the cell, licking his lips.

"You ready to talk yet?" he said, "Or do I have to let you stew with this one overnight?"

Julie turned her head and gave him a dark look through her hair, her eyes screaming defiance. She stuck out her tongue, looked at the wall again, resuming her mumbling. The gaoler just shook his head with a smile on their face, and his minions were equally amused.

"By the Maker, she is a stubborn one, eh?" he said, addressing the statement to me, "But you'll deal with her, my friend, right?"

"How can I refuse such a generous offer," I joked.

Baldy laughed some more, unaware that the joke was on him. He had the cell opened, and held out the chains again. I walked towards him and held out my arms, as the other two guards stared at Julie as a warning. I swear, they could have been twins, though it's hard to remember that sort of detail after all these years.

"Sorry, friend, need to keep up appearances," he said, as he slapped the irons on me once again, "I've put in a good word for you though, so you won't be gagged."

"Very kind of you," I replied, as the cell door was closed again.

"Way I figure it, you're a dead man using his last hours to help me with a problem," Baldy continued, as Julie gave him an obscene gesture using her thumb, "That deserves certain considerations."

I nodded, containing my disgust at the man's friendliness.

"You're a man of principle," I stated flatly, almost letting sarcasm into my tone.

"I like to think so," chuckled Baldy, as I was led away.

I gave Julie a wink for luck as I passed, and began memorising the layout of the prison as we passed through it. The lack of a black bag over was another consideration that my captors had deemed to give me, and I intended to abuse the privilege with enthusiasm.

* * *

I was brought out into the courtyard and saw the Winter Palace again, this time much more clearly in the better light conditions. It was colder today and there were more clouds, but the sun still illuminated the white stone of the structure as I passed. Whereas before I felt only awe at the sight, now I was filled with contempt. It was then obvious to me that it had been bought and paid for through theft and extortion, diminishing its beauty in my eyes. My otherworldly sensibilities were clashing with the new reality of the society I found myself in.

Across from the prison was a marble building that you could have described as the Winter Palace's baby brother. It was a white marble building with buttresses, with blue banners hanging off of them and golden lions sitting beside giant bronze scales lined the path to its doorway. There seemed to be a lot of people moving in and out of it, their faces hidden with masks ranging from simple grey metal to the gold I had seen before, every design being different. Goldie's mask had confused me, but I was getting the picture that it was an aristocratic tradition of some sort. One that I still find bizarre, and no one in Orlais has ever been able to convince me as to its merits.

Baldy brought me past the golden lions and into a side door, where two men-at-arms in plate armour were waiting, masks and all.

"This is Eastwood," said Baldy, "For the _haut_ _-cours_ trial."

For a moment I forgot that was the name I had given, and I laughed when I realised it. Minion Number One gave me another slap on the head for my trouble. Baldy handed over a document, which was read and stamped, before we walked on. The next corridor was definitely a waiting room of some kind, with ornate seating the whole way along opposite sets of double doors. More men and women in masks, wearing deep blue robes that seemed to be too big for them, sat studying documents. I was unimpressed with the display. You can dress a show trial up as much as you want, but at the end of the day, it's still a show trial. Of course, Orlais is all about the show.

We strode down along to a set of doors with lion-shaped reliefs cut into the dark wood. Baldy was careful to position me in the centre. He nodded to an attendant, and the doors opened.

It was a courtroom. The floors, tables and the judge's bench were gleaming marble, the latter framed with a golden portrait of a woman with a crown and sunbeams coming out of her shoulders. The judge himself peered over it, his golden mask shining in the light of the day coming down from a roof opening. Scribes scribbled away in rows of seats. A woman in a red mask stood in the middle of the space between the judge's podium and the tables. Baldy put me right in the middle of the room under the sun, and attached my chains to a link on the ground. That was probably wise, given how pessimistic I had become.

The trial proceeded in Orlesian, which I could understand partially, as it was close to another language I spoke passingly well. My job required that I speak two languages, and I can only thank the Maker that I had chosen that particular language. I didn't catch all of the meaning, as there are subtle differences between the two tongues and there was a great deal of legal babble, but I remember what I understood very clearly.

A gong rang out, calling the room to silence and causing the doors to be closed. When the shuffling and whispering stopped,

"In the name of the Empress of Orlais, Celene Valmont the First, the _grand-parlement_ of the Dales is now in session," intoned the judge from above in a deep timbre, "Now hearing the case of the Empire versus Eastwood, a criminal complaint of the highest seriousness. Who stands for the Empire?"

"I, Cecile des Arbes, stand for Orlais," said the red-masked woman, stepping forward beside me, "I bring the charges of murder, apostasy, and insulting the dignity of a noble, on the word of Francois deMontfort, a Chevalier of the Dales."

The judge nodded, and there was much scribbling of notes for a half minute. I rolled my eyes. This was ridiculous. If anyone brags to you about the glories of Orlesian justice, please send them my way. I looked for my defence counsel, and found I didn't have one. I had been accused and it was now presumed that I was guilty, as far as I could tell. I didn't like my odds, so I decided to have my fun.

"Who stands to defend their honour?" the judge asked, keeping to Orlesian.

I looked around, and saw that all eyes had turned to me. Smiling, I walked forwards towards the judge as far as I could, my chains clanking when they reached their limit.

"Clint Eastwood, officer of the glorious and mighty army of the United Nations," I joked back, "And I am innocent." Needless to say, they took it seriously.

There was some turmoil as I walked back to my starting point, kicking my chains about as I did so. I approached Red Mask with a sinister growl, but she didn't so much as flinch, being just outside my range to get at.

"Your plea is accepted. I warn you... If you speak out of turn, I shall have you whipped," said the judge, quieting the court with his declaration, "Being a foreigner is no excuse for not knowing your place, even if you are who you claim to be. Madame Des Arbes, read the facts."

I sat down and listened casually to what I knew was going to be a load of nonsense, as I didn't think interrupting was going to do much. Except get me whipped. If they didn't let me defend myself, I intended to risk the lash to do so, but it turned out I didn't need to.

"On the forth day of Solace, the honourless before us disturbed a dragon's nest in the hopes of obtaining its fangs. In doing so, he caused the deaths of his companions, a crime for which he has shown no remorse. In order to slay the beast, he resorted to magic and has shown no reverence for our Holy Chantry, proving his danger to the realm as an apostate. Finally, when confronted by the brave _Chevalier_ DeMontfort, he insulted the noble defender of Orlais by spitting at him, after which he was detained and sent here for trial."

Red Mask signalled someone behind me. A masked guard dragged forward the chest with my weapons and equipment, with some difficulty, and set it down beside and opened it for her. The scribe from the crash site also stepped forward, now wearing a mask but still recognisable from his clothes and gait. He handed her a large pile of notes, which she held up.

"As evidence, I have sworn statements from a huntsman who saw the honourless escaping with another from the nest, describing his clothes as 'bulky, the colour of sand, with a rounded hat covering the entire top of his head."

Red Mask held up Patel's helmet, which had rested on top of his grave before it was taken, and pointed at me. I was wearing everything else she described, and I could tell she was smiling underneath, as she made a tour of the benches so everyone could see. The helmet went back in the box, and to my shock, my firelance came out next. I couldn't see if the safety catch was on or not, or even if the thing had been readied to shoot, but there was definitely ammunition in it.

Red Mask held it backwards, and I winced, not sure if it would be a good or bad thing if it discharged right about then. She raised it up like she had with the helmet, and continued speaking.

"Then, as the dragon and its young closed in on his companions, he summoned molten metal with this staff and killed it, but only after his companions were dead. As evidence, I submit the sworn testimony of DeMontfort's scribe, who examined the dragon's wounds and found cooled metal into them. The dragon's fangs were found beside the criminal, removed from its jaw. It was he who also witnessed the honourless insult his lord, without regard for his station and with utmost malice."

People started throwing things at me, a collection of crushed paper peppering me as loud boos echoed through the chamber. I turned towards the crowd of supposed lawmen, as they moshed like a gang to denounce me. They seemed genuinely angry, even with all that gibberish about magic. I frowned, unsure if they meant my technology or something else.

"In light of recent uprisings and troubles, I ask the court for a full trial and the execution of this criminal at the earliest opportunity. He is a danger to us all," Red Mask concluded, bowing away as she did so.

The judge held up his hand, and the mask swivelled towards me.

"Do you have any arguments against these charges going to trial?" he said.

I stood up again, and took a breath. I decided to begin from the start and go from there.

"I did not cause the murders of my companions. The men your witness described were called Miller and Patel, they found the dragon's nest by accident and they both paid with their lives along with all their comrades. I took the fangs in revenge, not for my own benefit but to place with the dead."

No one said anything for a moment, waiting for me to continue. The next part was tricky, as I had to improvise some way of convincing them that I had killed the dragon without magic while not giving away the secret of my weapons.

"As for magic, I can't use any and no one in my country can. We killed the dragon with a machine, I'm sure that scribe over there wrote about it. The dragon was gravely wounded by it before destroying it, and then died of its wounds. We were explorers, not thieves or dragonhunters, I beg your mercy in this as the last survivor," I said, in the most conciliatory tone I could fathom in my contempt for the proceeding.

The judge's mask didn't move for some time, and it felt like a statue was watching me. I simply stared back, not moving a muscle, like it was a contest. The judge blinked first, and called out to the scribe to hand him the documents. He did so quickly.

The judge flicked through the pages for a few minutes, before rising again.

"It appears there was some sort of destroyed machine, and it seems to me that your story is plausible," he said, his gaze returning to me, "The charge of apostasy is suspended, pending review by the Templar Order and the Chantry. As for the murder charge, you have not presented anything to prove that you were not out for your own gain. Do you have any defence for the charge of insulting a noble?"

"I outrank the man who arrested me," I lied, "If that will do."

"Can you prove that?" said the judge, "Know that impersonating a noble will result in a harsher punishment than even murder can bring, foreign or not."

I thought of things that nobles could do that others couldn't, off the top of my head. I didn't really know much about the era of my world's history when such things were prevalent, but there were some things that everyone knew.

"I can't prove my exact rank, our system is different, but I can read and write in three languages, I help govern cities and I lead troops in battle. If a chevalier is a professional warrior, then I am ranked above that, as I command professional warriors."

It wasn't exactly true, but I assumed that Orlais was like old kingdoms back home, that it had a group of warriors between nobles and the common people. It made sense, as without an arrangement like that, there would be uprisings and rebellions. Julie practically said as much. Thankfully, I was dead right in this case. The judge seemed to nod, sending a ripple of consternation throughout the courtroom.

"I am told you speak common, and here you are speaking in Orlesian," said the judge, "I assume the third language is your mother tongue. How did you come to speak our language?"

"I was selected to lead the expedition to these lands, after we saved a man from a shipwreck near our lands. He was from somewhere on this continent, and he taught all of my men the most important languages," I said, having anticipated the question long before it was asked, "He refused to say what exactly town he was from, I think he was scared of us, but he cooperated otherwise."

Complete bullshit, of course, but it had the added benefit of presenting me both as an explorer, which would explain my complete lack of knowledge about Thedas, and as a diplomat as well, which I hoped would make them hesitate to simply chop my head off.

"And your country is in the West, you say?" asked the judge. I wasn't completely sure if Orlais had discovered the entirety of the world, but from Goldie's reactions and the level of technology, I was pretty sure they hadn't. So I took the gamble.

"Over an ocean and through a desert, yes," I said, "That's why we dressed in this colour, to disguise ourselves in the sand if we needed to."

I had reached the end of my Plan B, the final detail about my uniform an added bonus. I waited to see if the judge would dig deeper. If he did, I was as good as dead. If he didn't, I was fairly sure I'd be free. What I would do after that, I don't know. I walked around the room, my chain rattling, as Red Mask watched me. I was getting impatient, as the minutes rolled by, the judge consulting in whispers with various other barristers. The room was held in rapt silence for the word on it.

"I dismiss the charge of insulting a noble, your strange dress and education make it obvious that you are no Orlesian peasant or Fereldan bandit," he said, "However, as we have evidence of you taking dragon teeth, I cannot dismiss the murder charge. You say you were in command, you may be responsible for for the deaths of your men and the endangerment of Orlesian subjects."

"I'm a diplomat of my country!" I objected, "I have immunity from prosecution! Are your diplomats dragged through the courts in other lands?!"

"As you have no other leverage, your trial for murder will commence tomorrow, at a time to be determined at first light," the judge continued, "Any objection on the basis of the immunity of diplomats will be tested then. This session is dismissed."

"Glory to Orlais!" chanted the room together in response. My response was a little more rude, and much more quiet.

* * *

I don't remember going back to the prison, I suppose I was just so engrossed in how close I had come to getting free of the whole thing. Taking the dragon's fangs had really screwed me. If I was questioned on my origins further, which had to happen if they weren't completely stupid, I wouldn't be able to sustain the fiction. Worse, they'd probably examine my weapon again, in detail. Probably blow someone's head off with it by accident too, I thought. The real joys would start, and I'd probably end up burnt alive or drawn and quartered.

If I could go back in time and change things, I still would have taken those fangs. It needed to be done, although I say that with the benefit of decades' worth of hindsight.

The next thing I remember is being jeered at as I re-entered the dungeon in the prison. The other cells were occupied. The first three were individuals so shady, you really wouldn't want to meet them in public in daylight, never mind in an alley at night. Hoods, gloves with no fingers, haunched over and beady eyes staring out as they yipped and yelled. The fourth was a huge fellow, in what I thought was a horned helmet. I was wrong about that.

Finally, I reached the fifth cell, the one I had been stuck in before. Madamoiselle Marteau was still there, still in her state of deliberate and false disarray, though she was standing in the corner rather than sitting on the bench. I was pleased to see that the arrangement hadn't been changed, as it was crucial to what I planned to do next.

Baldy took the chains off me, and I walked into the cell.

"That was entertaining, Eastwood," he said, "You ought to go into theatre."

"You're too kind," I replied, meaning it.

"I expect her to be spilling her guts tomorrow morning," Baldy continued loudly, "Or else she gets sent to a less dainty facility, where the nobles don't care about protecting their honour so much."

"Don't worry, by tomorrow, she won't be your problem," I said truthfully, "Call it a favour to a man of principle."

"Heh," snorted Baldy, "I hope you don't get executed, you're a real funny piece of work."

The gaoler signalled Minions One and Two as they locked the door after depositing my belongings in the storage room again. They left, Baldy shouting at some of the other prisoners to shut their gobs or he'd ram a baton down their throats. He stopped at the cell next door with the big guy in it, but he continued on his way soon after. I watched him through the cage, as he dragged the baton along the bars. They left and closed the door.

I sat down again and sighed. Julie sat too, and leaned back against the wall as I hunched over.

"You're making friends," she said.

"My skin is crawling just standing next to him," I replied, "He is the most repulsive person I've ever met, and I've met warlords."

"Another thing. Eastwood?" she asked, "Why'd he call you that?"

"I gave my name as Clint Eastwood when I got here," I explained, "It's the name of a famous actor in my country. He plays hardass characters."

Julie giggled again, amused that I had managed to deceive them. Admittedly, I found it pretty amusing too. I still wonder if I could have pulled it all off if I had went with Marty McFly instead. Sorry, otherworld reference. I promise to keep those to a minimum.

"I guess you're not dead yet, if you're still here," Julie said, as she began returning her clothes to their proper state.

"Tomorrow," I said, "They'll get me tomorrow."

Julie pulled on the boots again, and tied them up. At least she was pleased, for the moment. My new companion stood up, and walked around, trying them out again. I was having a little fun watching her march up and down the tiny space, or jumping up and down on the spot.

"These really are amazingly well designed," she muttered, "Your country must be quite something."

"The boots are nothing," I said, lying down on my back now that the bench was unoccupied, "We have carriages that don't need horses, flying machines, boxes that let you talk to people hundreds of miles away, buildings as tall as mountains, all the types of food you could possibly ever want to eat. Let's not forget ice cream and weapons of mass destruction. No wonder these morons think I'm magic, this place is primitive."

I immediately regretted the rant. Julie stared at me. I couldn't read her expression, but I felt I had offended her in some way.

"I don't mean you, it's hardly your fault that your country is the way it is," I said quickly, "I can't take much credit for my country's achievements either, and it's not exactly paradise for many. It's just frustrating to be called an apostate and threatened with death because of it, is all."

"I can't tell if you're telling the truth or lying to me," she said, her eyes narrowed, "But I think it's the truth."

"Yeah, though it's no good to me now," I replied, with a wave of my hand.

"I think I'd like to visit your country," Julie said, "It sounds wonderful."

"Land of the free, home of the brave," I sung off-key, half-joking.

"What was that?" she asked, "A song?"

"The song of my nation," I replied, not sure she would get the concept, "Sort of like a royal salute, I guess, except for the whole country, not just the leader." She looked at me funny. As I suspected, 'national' anthems weren't a thing. The concept of a territory and people as a 'nation' itself didn't really exist, with one or two notable exceptions.

I hummed the first few bars of the song, called _The Star Spangled Banner_ , rather than singing it. Julie listened quietly, looking at the boots. When it was over, she looked thoughtful, but said nothing. I doubt I impressed her with my rendition of the song. I got homesick to the point of actually feeling nausea.

It was at that moment that I made my decision.

"Screw this, we're getting out of here. Tonight."


	3. Chapter 3: The Great Escape

**Chapter Three: The Great Escape**

This chapter is named for a supposedly true story about prisoners of war escaping from a camp, with each of them using an unique set of skills to confound their captors. I suppose I should dedicate it to Steve McQueen too, though no one reading this will know who he is. If anyone shows up claiming to be from another world, you can have them explain, because I'm not going to. Given what happened, it seemed the only appropriate name. Even with the discovery I made during the course of the action, which was distracting to say the least. Regardless, our own antics escalated quickly from just myself and Julie escaping, which was itself an increase in the ambition of my initial plan.

Julie agreed to escape with me quickly after I had explained the general idea. Break out, get out of the prison, head south from the city and onwards to freedom. Of course, I omitted the part where I find the large cache of highly advanced weapons that I hid in the forests, then try and get back home. She had plans of her own too, I would discover.

After a bit of experimentation, we were pretty sure we could get out of the cell if we worked together. The sharp edges of the bars would have cut our hands to ribbons, but we didn't need to touch them ourselves. We worked out that we would be able to lift the door if both of us applied our weight, using the bench to do the actual lifting and ourselves as counterweights. Maybe. I had seen it done before, but it might have been a longshot. Not getting caught after we got out was the next thing. If the door itself crashing to the ground wouldn't bring someone running, the other people in the cellblock probably would. Getting out of the building at night would probably be less difficult. Yet all of that that was the easy part, getting out of the city fast enough was the bigger challenge. One we couldn't plan for.

However, with my lying ass about to be strung up the next day, and Julie facing hard labour, prison and worse, we confirmed we had no choice but to go. We decided to wait for nightfall.

We almost got caught out when Baldy came by to deliver water and a food substitute that looked like a mangled rat. We had a plan to keep the fiction of my cooperation up, as Julie had doubted that our gaoler would settle for simply thinking that she was being dealt with. At some point, she said, he would make sure to see. I didn't think that was the case, but I agreed to her plan, though frankly I still think it was unnecessary. The idiot liked me, after all. Or maybe he just liked having people carry out his whims.

Regardless, Baldy waddled into view with a plate, his presence long announced by the jeering of the others. He even helped out, by speaking with our big friend next door, which helped immensely with the timing. By the time he arrived outside our cell, Julie was laid down on her back and I was between her legs. It sounds exactly how it was. We were _pretending_ to be in the middle of "making love" in the dark. Which was awkward. Like I said, her idea. Kids, don't read that part.

The madamoiselle delivered her perfectly timed and swift fist to my face, as planned. She enjoyed it a little too much, smirking before it landed. I flinched backwards, because as I said before, Julie is no weakling. Despite it not being quite as painful as her first effort, I was barely able to continue the façade, having trouble doing up the button on my trousers again. My eyes watered and I had to blink away the tears. I thought it was no wonder the thugs wouldn't do their own dirty work. They'd probably lose an eye or a tooth.

Our gaoler found the performance extremely entertaining, laughing from the bottom of his bastard heart. My cellmate had been right. He was a perverted little cockroach at heart, and what he had just seen would probably hold him over until the morning.

"Looks like you're getting there," he grinned, placing the cup and plate down just inside the bars, "Or maybe she's playing you for a fool, letting you get close so she can whack you like that."

"Go screw a sow," replied Julie, gathering the top of her workshirt onto her shoulders again.

"Careful girl, you're sour like one," growled Baldy, his face going dark, "I might mistake you for one if you're not careful."

"Tut tut, friend," I interjected, leaning against the bars, "She's mine."

Baldy's smile returned, just within slapping range. I was sure that if I hit him on one side of his face, the fat on it would ripple all the way around again. Grabbing him and taking his tubby self hostage also presented itself as an idea. The temptation was great, but the prize of getting out was more so.

"I guess there's some use in a feisty one," he grinned, "Just as long as she's the most sore piece in all of Halamshiral by night's end, I don't care. She needs to understand what awaits her for the next ten years if she keeps this up. She doesn't talk in the morning, then we'll have to throw her to the wolves in the prison down south."

"I don't care, it's not like I'm going anywhere," I shrugged, "I'm probably a dead man tomorrow anyway."

Baldy nodded and left, again doing his signature rattling of the cell bars with his baton as he passed. King of his own castle, he thought.

I turned back to Julie and began to speak, but stopped myself immediately when I noticed something that could have given us away. Or maybe the bastard did notice and thought it was some kind of fetish? To this day, I'm not sure how we escaped notice or why he would let us off with it.

The problem was this: She was still wearing my boots. On feet that had been held up in the air when Baldy arrived. It should have raised awkward questions.

When I brought this to Julie's attention, she wasn't bothered at all.

"I don't think he was trying to look at my feet," she said, sitting down to fix her hair. I let out a chuckle at that, as it was almost certainly true. I picked up the plate of "food" as she stood up again. She came over and grabbed my face with a cheeky smile, looking into my eyes for a moment before examining where she had hit me the second time. I think it was at this moment that I went from smitten to head over heels. Alas, I am a fool for a brunette.

"You did seem to be enjoying yourself though. Maybe we should practice our deception in greater detail," she said, squeezing my cheeks, "When things are less tense."

"Should we invite Baldy?" I asked, unable to resist the joke. She shook her head, and slapped me on the cheek a little. She was still smiling as she lay down on the bench again.

I took a whiff of the contents of the plate the bastard had delivered. It was putrid, whatever it was, seeming to be a gruel of some kind laced with red spice. I asked my cellmate if she wanted it, to which she informed me that she hadn't eaten anything since arriving. Said it was dangerous. Agreeing, albeit probably for a different reason, I chucked the mess out of the window-privy. I was pretty damn hungry at this point. The last time I had eaten was breakfast almost two days earlier, on another world. It was a fry-up too, bacon, sausage, toast, black coffee. I tortured myself thinking about it for a little while, as I sipped the tepid and probably dirty water out of the cup to console myself. Justice in Orlais, ladies and gentlemen.

I sat down in the corner opposite the bench, and slept for a couple of hours.

* * *

Julie woke me to tell me that the nightwatchman was on guard, and not our favourite voyeur. However, as the rest of the prisoners weren't asleep yet, as far as we could tell, it wasn't time yet.

Once we had decided that, she asked to hear more about my country. I told her about what cities I had visited both in my homeland and in other countries, talking about things like what the people were like, what you could find in each one, how exactly I travelled there. She seemed pretty interested in that for a while, then inquired about food, as I had said before that the country had all sorts of foods. I declined to answer this, as I said, I was too hungry to be thinking about that. I guess that was her way of dealing with hunger, provoking it deliberately so it didn't sneak up on her.

Eventually, we heard the sound of snoring, and the time to leave had come. The nightwatchman did a final patrol before heading off behind the door at the end of the corridor to read or do something less sanitary, probably in the guardroom I had seen into on the way to the court. There was no way to be sure if any but one of the prisoners were asleep, but it was midnight according by my reckoning

Julie had a look down the corridor herself, and nodded to me that it was definitely clear. I grabbed the bench and pulled it over to the door, positioning one of the supports under the lowest of the crossbars. As we readied to apply force to it, I couldn't help but laugh at a certain irony. My companion turned to me, wondering what was so amusing and a little afraid that I'd draw attention with the outburst.

"You know who gave me this idea?" I whispered, "The judge. He said that I didn't have any leverage left."

We both snickered quietly as we applied our weight to the bench, levering the door upwards off its hinges. In hindsight, it wasn't that funny a joke, but the tension of the moment made it so.

The metal groaned a complaint loudly, the inside of the hinges scraping off the door's pins and the bolt of the lock tapping off the sides. For a moment, I thought it would stay stuck at the very top of the pins. I leaned my knee on top of the bench, relying on my weight rather than my strength to push it down. The door came off the hinges, sending us flying to the floor with the bench. It fell outwards and collided with the doorframe of the storage room, ringing like a chantry bell for a few seconds. I winced at the noise, but it quieted fairly quickly.

Julie and I looked at each other gleefully. Step one complete, a piece of cake. Now for the dangerous part.

We rushed out of the cell and picked up the door. Hoisting it back into place took a lot of effort, and we had to act quickly. Taking a side each, we replaced it as close to where it had been as possible, while keeping off its hinges. A lot of grunting and heaving, and we had the outsides fitted snugly into its frame. Ready, we waited for the inevitable. The others awoke, and poked their own heads through their cell bars to see what the ruckus was. I followed suit, pretending to do the same, even though I was entirely sure that our next-door neighbour had seen us leave the cell. Thankfully, they remained quiet as the nightwatchman entered in a fuss.

"What in Andraste's tits was that noise!" he shouted, "One of you better tell me, or so help me, you will choke to death on my -"

You get the picture. He continued like that for some time, straighting his black robes and waving a fist around. Julie had a good laugh at the rant, whereas I was too absorbed with what I had to do next.

"Hey! it came from this storage room!" I called down, pointing at the door where my equipment was kept. The bluff worked.

The moron came down the corridor with a flame torch, dangling his keyring, searching for the right key to unlock the door. I watched carefully as he flicked through each one, mumbling about flaying people alive as he did so. Julie gripped my hand from behind, for reassurance, as I watched for him to decide on the right key. As he walked past our neighbour's cell, he finally chose. I took note of which key he had ready as he turned, and gave my companion's hand a squeeze back to signal that I had what we needed to know.

He must have still been half asleep, because he began loudly knocking the key around the lock clumsily rather than putting it in. It gave us the opportunity to get the door out of the way again without being heard.

Julie and I sprung into action. We took him from behind as brutally as possible, not taking any chances. The first strike was a full body punch to the back of his head from my dear self, which sent him forwards against the wall beside and the other prisoners cheering. The torch fell to the ground, and I kicked it away so he couldn't use it as a weapon. Julie did most of the rest of the work, sending punch after punch at the man's jaw, gut and neck. He collapsed after about six blows a minute later, either dead or very badly hurt. He was bloody and bruised in every place I could see, and plenty I could not.

It was probably a bit excessive, I thought, but my new friend needed to vent. When it was done, I rubbed her on the shoulder as she inhaled and exhaled deeply. She put her hand over mine as I did so. She appreciated the gesture.

"Hey you, get us out of here!" called a prisoner, managing to half-shout and half-whisper.

"We will, just stay quiet and we're all leaving!" I replied, "Warn us if anyone else comes."

One of them made a gesture from down the corridor indicating that they would do so, and I immediately felt relieved. Apparently everyone on the block was up for a greater crime than evading arrest. I picked the keyring off the nightwatchman's body, and selected the storage room doorkey. It slid in smoothly, but required some force to turn open. The door swung open to reveal a number of chests, barely visible in the light light of the now-recovered torch.

"Which one is yours?" Julie asked, "That's mine there in the corner, not much inside but I'd like some of it back if you don't mind."

"We'll open all of them," I said, remembering the half dozen prisoners waiting for release, "Might need the extra help."

My companion nodded, as we began trying to open chests. The first we opened turnout out to be hers, and she took out a toolbelt and a bag, confirming her profession as being a craftswoman of some sort. Inside was also a bunch of rolled up papers, which I guessed were her case files. She set them on fire with the nightwatchman's torch, before I could look at them. She smiled as she did so, letting the embers fall into the empty vessel. I didn't complain, there was no reason to take them and it was probably some sort of ritual for her at this point.

The next chest held a large bow and two quivers of arrows, some sort of paint tin, a large curved dagger, and a bag of survival tools. No papers of any kind. I wondered what the paint was for, and who the owner was. I reached for the tin, but didn't really have time to ponder it and left it alone. I turned to Julie, to see if she wanted the bow or dagger. As I hadn't really used a bow before, I didn't want to bother taking it.

"If someone sees us walking around with a bow, they'll stop us," she whispered, "Leave it."

So we left the second box untouched, and my own equipment was better by my own reckoning at any rate.

We went to the third chest. I opened it and found everything that had been taken off me inside. I breathed easy, my spirits greatly raised by the sight. My pack was untouched, as was my combat webbing. Even the spare water bottle was still full.

Most importantly, my weapons and ammunition were there. Goldie's scribe had placed his notes in a side section too, for good measure, and I had every intention of flicking through those as soon as I was safe. I pulled the webbing and Fraser's boots out and put them on, buckling the belts to me. Julie watched with a curious face, as I gleefully chuckled to myself. I remember thinking about all the smug pricks who had insulted and mistreated me since my arrival, and how I would make them cower in fear if I ever saw them again. It was that sort of night. I felt guilty about having those thought. Yes, really.

Unfortunately, my self-indulgence was cut short by the sound of another door coming off its hinges. It clanged against the wall or floor outside without any warning at all. Julie and I looked at each other in surprise. The sound of the broken door being moved aside along the stone of the floor echoed around.

I quickly grabbed my firelance from the box, checked that it was loaded and flicked the safety off with my thumb. Boots knocked closer for a minute, before the guest ducked through the low doorway and into the room, illuminated by the torch.

It was definitely a woman. Little doubt of that, given her... bounty... I suppose that would be the polite way of saying it? She was wearing a crossing double weave of cloth over her neck and across her chest, that left her belly, shoulders and presumably most of her back naked. Black trousers started at her waist and ended with what I can only describe as cousins to my own boots on her feet. Her skin appeared to be silver-grey and her shoulder-length hair was a brilliant white. Her violet eyes met mine with ease, as she was as tall as I am, perhaps an inch taller. Her physique was athletic; she looked like she could run twenty miles, though I suspected that Julie could probably win out in upper body strength. It occurred to me that this was the occupant of the cell next to ours, now without her cloak, but that wasn't my primary concern at the time.

No, I was much more interested by the two damned horns growing out the back of her head.

What I mistook for a helmet before was actually part of the woman's skull. This was my first meeting with a Qunari. There are certainly none on Earth. I raised my firelance to fire, stepping back as I felt my eyes nearly go out of my head. She didn't react, but regarded both of us coolly. I'm not sure if she was trying to calm us down by standing still, but it was having the opposite reaction because of her silence. I had to ask.

"What in the name of God are you?" I growled, "Answer now."

She inclined her head to the side, looking at me as if I was stupid. She looked at Julie, who was speechless at the time, and then back to me.

"I have overheard your conversations," the horned woman said, in a strangely salacious accent, "Every word since your arrival, Sam Hunt."

"What, and you just decided not to wait for me to open the cells?" I asked, not bothering to keep my voice down anymore, "For a nice little chat in this closet?"

"I couldn't take the chance that you would refuse to let me go," she explained, "I take it, given your distance from home and your reaction to my appearance, that this is the first time you have seen a Qunari?"

"It's the first time I've seen one either," Julie interrupted, aiming her words at me, "They're invaders, come to take our land and turn us from the Chantry's faith. There was a big war against them, and some countries are still fighting them."

Our guest didn't seem perturbed by the description of her people. "You are not wrong," she replied softly, "I have seen these things happen."

I tightened my grip on my weapon, wondering if I should just riddle the Qunari with a burst from my firelance and walk out of the prison over her corpse. That seemed a little harsh, considering she was a prisoner too. Leaving her wouldn't have been an option in the first place, yet I could not help but act a bit irrationally. She was so unusual that I kept my weapon's aim on her. Until she glanced at it, not seeming to think it unusual. Which was unusual in itself.

"Is that a weapon?" she asked, "I mean you no harm. Quite the opposite."

I grit my teeth and lowered the firelance. She had displayed no real hostility, and frankly, if she heard everything I had said to Julie without thinking I was crazy, then she deserved the benefit of the doubt. But I didn't answer her question about the firelance.

"I believe you," I said, "That you mean no harm. Get your things."

I stepped aside to let her into the room, and she did so, making her way to the second chest with the bow. Saw that coming. Julie and I watched her closely as she began rummaging in it, before looking at each other in a sort of bewilderment. We quickly remembered that we were in the middle of an escape attempt. Although walking around with a huge archer would compromise us as easily as Julie taking the bow, at least it looked like the Qunari had skill with it. Though as it turned out, Julie could have used it perfectly well herself.

I went about stuffing the scribe's notes into my pack, before hauling it up out of the chest and onto my back. It was heavy and unwieldy, but I could hardly drag it either. Julie checked the hallway to see if it was still clear, while I ran my hands over my webbing to make sure the combat knife and various grenades were still there. With that complete, I looked around. I had an idea.

"Are there any cloaks in there?" I asked.

Julie searched, and found a shelf with large blankets. Good enough, I decided, and wrapped myself up in one to disguise my face and strange clothing. Both my companions followed suit, Julie taking out a long chisel to use as a weapon first and the Qunari putting it over her ridiculously revealing outfit. I was getting more interested in the latter for the obvious reason. She was the first non-human I had ever met.

"You, what is your name?" I asked her.

"I was Tamassran," she said, "But I now have no name, I have become Tal'Vashoth."

I had no idea what she was talking about. I guessed the obvious part, Tamassran was her name before. But was Tal'Vashoth her new name, or was she nameless? I wasn't bothered to get the detailed answer at that particular moment. Neither was our other accomplice.

"Alright Tam, will you help us get out of here?" said Julie, asking before I could, "Because I don't want to spend another minute in _this_ place."

Tam worked as a name, I thought. She was seemingly satisfied with her new soubriquet too.

"That was my intention," Tam replied, seeming a little more upbeat now.

I almost slapped my own face off at her answer though.

"Then freakin' say so the first time," I replied, "I almost killed you."

"Apologies, I thought it was obvious," said Tam, smiling for the first time. It wasn't like Julie's smile, it was much more sharp. The smile of a killer. It sent a shudder down my spine, but I was more confident of escape with her than without her.

Both my companions and I left the storage room, climbing around Tam's cell door. I glanced inside, and saw that she too had used the bench as a lever. I wondered for a moment just how much she had heard, as we passed to the next cell. Dodgy Guy No.1 was parked right up against the door.

"Unlock it, what's taking you so long?!" he urged, motioning with his hand for us to come closer.

Tam drew her curved dagger, and stepped forward. He, being much smaller and unarmed, stepped back. That had me warming up to her immediately. The trouble she had nipped in the bud could very well have ended with us all getting discovered, and she was smart enough to see that coming a mile away. Though I was still freaked out about the horns, whereas Julie seemed to have the same problem for a different reason. I vowed to have a little interview with both of them later. There was obviously something I needed to know.

"Calm down or I'll leave you in here," I said to the pushy prisoner, unlocking the door and moving to the next cell.

The others were much less pushy, stepping back like they would if it was a guard opening up the cell, and only leaving when we had vacated the area around the door. The three or four prisoners seemed to congregate a dozen paces away, wondering what to do no doubt. Feeling sorry for them, I threw them the remaining chest-sized keys.

"Here, get your things and get out of here as quietly as possible," I said, motioning to the door at the far end, "And if I see you again, just keep walking."

The group nodded like a bunch of chickens, picked up the keys off the floor, and walked down to get into the storage room. Satisfied, I recalled the layout of the prison past the door and unlocked it.

First, up a winding staircase. The guards' quarters were here, along with the aforementioned documents room. The bunkroom doors were shut, unlike when I had passed them in the afternoon, but I signalled for Julie and Tam to be absolutely quiet as we passed. It was a tense moment to say the least, and I think I could have eaten the air with a spoon at that time, but we got past the six or seven doors without incident. Unfortunately, the next part of the plan went less cleanly.

Julie and I had discussed what we would do if we got this far. The documents room, where I thought the case files on both of us were being kept, was at the end of the same corridor. We planned to destroy them. Julie pointed at the door to it, and I nodded. She opened it slowly, with Tam keeping watch behind and myself watching the next set of stairs. In the end, there was nothing but pitch blackness and a row after row of scrolls in the room at the time. Definitely something important though, as the few opened documents I could see were all stamped with the same relief of a woman with the sun behind her as I had seen displayed in the courtroom.

Julie began searching the files for her case, but I stopped her with a whisper of a laugh. I indicated for both of them to leave the room, and then to come closer so I could speak without waking the building.

"Get ready to go down the stairs quickly," I said, at a volume barely above a breath, "I've got this." Julie made a doubting face, but both of them watched me from the steps, as I went back into the room. I pulled as much paper off the shelves and onto the floor as possible, piling it up into a nice pyramid of combustible material. When I was satisfied that I had enough thrown about, I left and readied myself to run, as I pulled my chosen implement off of my belt.

It was an incendiary grenade, designed to destroy things in a small enclosed space with molten metal and heat. Think of an Antivan firepot, and you're still not thinking hot enough. Not even dragon's breath comes close. One can melt through a block of metal more than three feet thick with no problem at all. In a room filled with paper, you can imagine how quickly flames would spread. I only had two of the ingenious little devices, but I needed to destroy what was in that room. Otherwise, we'd never get clear of the bounty hunters and men of fortune that I imagined would have chased us with the help of the information there.

I tossed the weapon inside after activating it, and half-closed the door. I heard it detonate with a fizzing sound, as I hurried Tam and Julie down the staircase. Smoke started to spread as we moved, but I heard no shouts of alarm. We wound down and down, three floors to be exact, until we reached the final stretch of corridor leading to the courtyard. We were almost home-free.

Until Baldy came around a corner, bumping into me. What I thought as I realised it cannot be repeated in polite company. He seemed to bounce off me, almost falling on his backside as he did so, staggering away like he was drunk. Perhaps he was, now that I think about it.

"What in the... you!" he said. Not the sharpest knife in the box, that one. Nor the fastest on the draw, and it cost him.

Tam stepped in front of me quickly, moving to attack. She plunged her dagger into the gaoler's belly, putting her other hand over his mouth. I couldn't help but flinch as she drew it upwards, tearing a long wound in him from button to sternum, before removing it in a smooth motion. She then stabbed him through the throat as the coup de grace, before pulling it out quickly and moving to the side to avoid what happened next. Baldy's eyes rolled upwards, and he fell down in a pool of his own blood. I had seen some brutal things before this, people being burned alive or beheaded being among them, but this was a fatality unlike anything I had seen before.

The Qunari proceeded to drag the body by the leg into a side alcove, well hidden in the shadows, before coming back with what I think was a curtain. She dumped it on the ground and soaked the blood into it, using her foot to move it about. When she was satisfied that most of the evidence was cleaned away, she tossed the curtain into the same alcove. Julie and I just stared at Tam as she wiped the blade clean, pinching both sides of it with the blanket around her and drawing it through her fingers.

"He threatened to have me raped," she said quietly, "He deserved worse."

Julie looked to the newcomer with a new look of respect on her face, eyes wide. The Qunari looked back, understanding that what she had just done had earned serious points. I just looked on in a mixture of stunned silence and amusement. Julie had evidently seen a lot of violence in her life, and I wasn't surprised. After all, she was essentially a serf, and serfdom isn't exactly a thing that respects life. I was very much willing to have another companion on the road at this point, if Tam would agree to come. As it turned out, she positively demanded to come along, but that came a little later.

Both women looked for my reaction to the kill.

"I guess I did say he was the most disgusting man I had ever met," I said with a shrug, "Can't complain." Julie smirked at that, whereas Tam sheathed her dagger and looked away.

Bells rang out, and cries in Orlesian started from the battlements. I listened, trying to work out if we had been discovered yet. They were yelling about fire, not escaped prisoners, as I hoped they would. Knowing their contempt for the accused, I was sure they wouldn't bother to check on the prisoners until the flames were out too, buying both ourselves and the other group a little more time.

We hurried out the door into the courtyard, and stood aside as men I can only describe as city guards ran past us to see what was happening. No heed at all was paid to us, as we slipped out of the prison compound and onto the streets of the city itself. They didn't imagine that we were escaped prisoners. Or maybe they were responsible for firefighting only. Regardless, we passed the gatehouse without incident in the chaos of the moment, the blankets wrapped around us. And that's how we escaped, with no clue as to the significance of what we would set in motion.

I never so much as looked back.

* * *

 _AUTHOR'S NOTE: To the readers of my Mass Effect series, Battlefield 2183, I beg your patience. I really need to get what I have on this story out of my head before continuing. Was even mixing up characters earlier today when I tried to write more on that. Purging my brain here._

 _Also, if you've read this, please review! Cheers._


	4. Chapter 4: Elves

**Chapter Four: Elves**

As we walked away from the prison, I took in the sights by choice and the smells through necessity. The streets turned from smooth cobblestone on wide avenues to rough dirt and stones mixed together. Rather than more of the gleaming white marble buildings I had seen thus far, the structures changed to ramshackle wooden housing, some of them built far too high to be safe. There was very little if any street lighting, save for candle or torch light leaking out of houses, shops or the occasional tavern. Everyone on the street seemed to be wearing a hood, and strictly minding their own business. The smell on the street definitely had the air of raw sewage about it, and I was very glad that I had taken Fraser's boots as spares for that reason. The atmosphere of total deprivation was absolutely unyielding, as we made good our escape.

Halamshiral was perhaps the worst slum I had ever seen in person, and that's saying something considering where I was just before coming to Thedas. It certainly rivaled many of the large shantytowns I had heard of back home too.

Once we were out of sight and earshot of the main thoroughfares and the prison, I took my two companions aside to plan our route out of the city. We ducked into an alleyway with plenty of shadows, and huddled to speak privately.

"Is there a gate to the south road?" I asked, aiming the question at Julie, "I didn't see anything when they brought me here."

"Yes, it is the start of the main road southwards," she replied, "My home is also that way, though it is three days ride away."

My own stash was a day away in the same direction. I assumed no one from Earth had figured out what had happened to me, which was a good bet as they probably would think we were simply shot down rather than teleported. Eventually, they would figure out something else had happened, and who knew, maybe the way I arrived by was still open. Maybe they could send help. There was only one way to know, and that was to wait. Which led to the inevitable question.

"Is your village safe, if we can make it there?" I said, "Can we hide there?"

"We won't need to hide, our lord is a good person," Julie continued, "I was captured by a tax collection party, they come every two months or so."

Which meant I would have at least two months without being pestered. I thought it would take at least that long for help to arrive. I began to think about a cover identity I could come up with, and what I could do to establish myself so I didn't arouse suspicion in that time. I was hmming and hawing away to myself, when Julie spoke again.

"It's alright, I have a place," she said, slapping me on the shoulder as she is wont to do, "And you won't have to hide in the shed."

My eyebrow raised itself.

"Thanks," I said quickly, "Though how will you explain it?"

"Oh, I'll think of a way," she said coyly. She did too. Though it was as unnecessary as the last plan.

Satisfied for the moment and mindful of time, I turned to Tam.

"What about you, do you have somewhere you need to be?" I asked.

"I am coming with you," Tam replied firmly, "You will go home, yes?"

"If I can, yes," I replied, already knowing where this was going.

"Then I am going too," she said, a smile on her face, "Your land is very far away, and that is where I must go now."

"Eh, that probably wouldn't be wise," I said. She'd likely be dissected for study if she showed up with me in my world. Or yet more likely, be shot by the rescue team as soon as they saw her. Unless they got close enough to see what she was wearing. I joked in my head that she'd make serious money as a model. Or as an assassin. However, there was hardly any need to dissuade her at this point, and like I said, I thought she would be very useful on the road. Plus, she was growing on me.

"But, if you want to be indebted to me, that's your choice, I guess," I finished, rising from the group and looking around, "Let's get moving."

"The south gate down there," Julie said, pointing with the torch.

"Lead the way," I replied, hefting my firelance around to cover her. I wasn't liking the look of some of the people wandering around.

So we continued through thin streets, set out in no particular pattern that I could distinguish. A quick check of my compass told me that we were indeed heading south however, so I said nothing. It was still disconcerting, having so many angles to cover. With Julie in the lead, I was in the middle and the Qunari took up the rear. I pointed my weapon at every suspicious seeming alleyway, as subtle as I could, but Tam was looking at me funny by the time the next problem arrived.

The torch, which had got us from the prison into the slums, finally gave out.

The street we were on descended into almost pitch blackness, and we all bumped into each other as we didn't stop in time. Which wasn't an unpleasant experience, I am forced to confess, given what was bumping into me.

"What now?" Tam asked, "Can you re-ignite it?"

"Better," I said, as I thought the question was directed at me. I took my flashlight out of my combat webbing, and snapped it onto the barrel of my firelance, as it is designed to do. I turned it on, and brilliant white light poured out of the front of it, a solid beam that could guide our way easily. The two Thedosians followed the light's every move, fascinated by it as I made sure it was securely fastened.

"Is that a glowstone?" asked Julie, sounding impressed.

"No, they do not produce such concentrated light," replied Tam, before I could explain, "Is it magic?"

I sighed. Eventually the truth of my origins would come out, but I was speeding myself towards that end by using technology beyond that of this world. I wondered what either of them would think when the time to use my firelance or handcannon came. Explaining how the flashlight worked would take forever, so I kept it simple.

"It is not a glowstone or magic, it's called a flashlight," I explained, "It is a tool, a machine for creating light. I'll take the front, we need to keep moving."

Julie moved to the middle as I did as I said, leading the way by her directions. We stumbled a bit more than we had with the torch, as the flashlight didn't illuminate as much of the ground, but I felt a lot safer with it. The people in hoods were much more visible, and tended to scurry away when they saw us. We made better progress due to this, as we didn't have to halt or try and get around groups of people. The city walls began to loom over us even in the darkness, as lights near the gatehouse reflected off its rough white surface. We were very close now, and there was a noticeable improvement over the rest of the city here. It was a trade quarter, I guessed. Naturally, even in a slum, the merchants have better quarters.

I shone my light at a group of people in our way, just before an opening in two buildings. They all looked over at me, hoodless and standing around outside a bar. I stopped dead in my tracks, Julie colliding with me afterwards. They looked entirely human, save for one thing. Their ears were elongated to a point.

To be honest, I had my suspicions that I'd run across elves in the world somewhere. Seeing a dragon, people going about with swords and lots of talk about magic had me thinking about our stories where such things existed. There were usually elves too. Just not usually in slums.

"For crying out loud, what next!" I exclaimed, "Leprechauns or lizard people?"

Julia and Tam approached me as I rubbed my eyes. I was getting tired. The others crowded around me, wondering what I was complaining about. The elves just looked on like I was a crazy person, before returning to their own conversation. Frankly, I felt like they were on to something. Things were getting ridiculous to me. Just when I thought I had things figured out, this place threw something new at me. It was taking a lot of effort to process. I had not seen anyone start throwing spells at me yet, but I became fairly convinced I soon would at this rate. And I was not mistaken.

"What's wrong?" Julie asked.

"Elves," I said, "Everyone here are elves."

Julie and Tam exchanged a glance, and made unkindly faces like they expected better of me. I just returned the look, and saw that I had lost some measure of respect. Which was disconcerting to say the least. Especially with Tam, who could have probably bled me dry at that range in less than a second.

"Do you have a problem with elves?" asked Julie, her tone rising in what I thought could have been anger. The reason for which was coming, but I was a little busy thinking about something else.

"They don't exist," I stated flatly, "They're fictional. Made-up. Fodder for story books."

Both of them softened at that, Tam relaxing her stance and Julie's eyes returning to the warm, mischievous glow that usually inhabited them. I breathed easier, in the knowledge that whatever damage I had inadvertently done was largely repaired.

"You don't have elves in your country?" asked Tam, "No Qunari, no elves?"

"No, we certainly do not," I replied, "We don't have dragons either, they're also supposed to be fictional but at least they're plausible. Giant reptiles lived there once, we found their bones. Give me a minute here."

I turned off my flashlight and took a drink of water from my flask. The air was stuffy in the small streets, uncomfortably so. I remembered what I supposedly knew about the people I once thought unreal but were now drinking from tankards in the alley in front of me. There were a lot of stories, and the details varied, but I guess there was common ground in most of them. Test time.

"Elves," I said, "Long ears, excellent hand-eye coordination, live for thousands of years at a time if not forever, more advanced society. Did I get anything wrong?"

"Most of it is wrong," Tam said, taking on the air of a teacher, "Their coordination is not particularly greater than your own. It is said they used to be immortal but lost the ability when their race was enslaved. Now they live either in clans in the wilderness or in slums like this, either ignored or oppressed. Their civilisation is dead."

"Right," I said, feeling slightly relieved that I hadn't fallen into a storybook, "You seem to know a lot about them, Tam."

"My people find their situation very useful," Tam continued, "They are considered lesser by humans, but the Qun knows no such thing. They often follow my people's teachings when we liberate lands where they are present."

"You mean brutally invade," Julie corrected angrily, "Forcibly converting others."

"It is as you say," Tam conceded with regret, "Though as I said, I am Tal'Vashoth now. My people are just as much my enemy as they are yours."

"I'm not sure it's true that they're equally our enemy," said Julie with a frown, "But I get it, you're not with them any more."

Other people were beginning to take notice of us, which brought the memories of my capture to the forefront of my mind. No doubt we didn't have very much time left before the prison guards started sending out search parties to look for us in the slums. At which point the gates would be closed. We needed to get the hell out.

"Walk and talk, ladies," I said, motioning them forwards. We passed the group of elves I had initially seen. I nodded my greetings to them as they passed. One of them spat on the ground in response. A charming first impression of a people, truly. Of course, I later learned that the attitude was the fault of humans.

* * *

We got clear of the thin streets and found ourselves back on a wide avenue. One end went straight to the Winter Palace, the other to the gatehouse. Along its length, there were oil lamps emblazoned with lions, the lamp posts painted blue. There was no small amount of carriage traffic in the middle lanes, as Julie had told me there would be when we were planning, but the footways were empty. Satisfied we'd make it now, I relaxed after made sure we were properly covered. We strolled calmly towards the exit to the countryside, and hopefully, to freedom.

"Julie, why are Tam's people your enemy?" I asked, when I got the chance.

"My mother was from Rivain," she said softly, "It's to the northeast of this country, over the sea. Tam's people invaded it long ago, did what they always do. The war lasted decades. My parents used to live near the north of the country, where the Qunari still have a settlement. There's a lot of border tension and skirmishes. My father was killed, and my mother left for Orlais before I was born, as it was where my grandfather was from."

"Sounds... complicated," I said. I couldn't help but draw parallels from my own world. We had many such conflicts in our history, some of which I have set down in writing elsewhere. The major difference was that there were no peacekeepers in Thedas, no laws against ethnic cleansing or colonisation. What a dangerous place I had been brought to, I could not help but think. I had once sworn an oath to defend a set of values that stood against war and genocide, to defend humanity. But I was only one person. I wasn't sure I could do anything to change things, if my oath even held on another world or if it applied to non-humans.

"It's more complicated than you think," Julie said.

I remained quiet. I had no clues as to what she was talking about, and it didn't seem wise to pry about things I knew little about. I would need to talk to both of them extensively to even get a hint of the politics of this world or who they actually were. It was worse than I thought on the former, and better than I had hoped on the latter, when I finally got to have those conversations. They are good people, so I had plenty of motivation to protect them at least. As I've said repeatedly, I was alone otherwise.

"I think she is elf-blooded," said Tam suddenly.

I flinched at the sudden comment. "Meaning what?" I asked.

Julie gave Tam a scowl. Evidently, the Qunari's outburst was far from appreciated.

"My father was an elf," Julie admitted, "I never met him, but my mother was careful to tell me."

"Which is why you weren't pleased when I started going off about elves..." I thought aloud, "I owe you an apology." I felt like a complete idiot. I saw then that what I said could have easily been misconstrued as bigotry. We stopped and she turned to me.

"No, you don't," she insisted, "You didn't know, about me or about elves. You helped get out of prison. I owe you." Her eyes locked with mine, and I couldn't help but smirk.

"You owe me nothing," I said, "Trust me, you saved me more than I saved you." The mere sight of her did. I would say the same of Tam, but she was too terrifying to me at that point.

Julie began to protest, but our other jailbird was upset.

"You owe each other," said Tam impatiently, "What's your plan for getting past the gatehouse?"

We broke our eye contact and turned to our Qunari comrade, who had her arms crossed. Her fingers were playing with the edge of the dagger on her belt as she did so. Seemed like a habit to me, but that made it no less menacing.

"Steal a horse and cart, ride on through like nothing is wrong," I replied, "We have enough time, and simply walking through at this hour would have made us seem unusual."

Tam frowned. I frowned in turn. It seemed like a perfectly viable idea, even when we were locked up. Julie had done something like it before, apparently.

"What's wrong with that?" I asked.

"I was arrested at the north gatehouse," Tam said, waving her arm over her shoulder in the opposite direction, "Qunari are not a common sight in this place, if word has gotten out, your plan won't work."

"Then we'll just put you in the back and cover you," Julie said cheerfully, "It'll work, trust me."

Tam groaned deeply, like doing that was going to be a burden. Both the trust part and the sit-and-hide-on-a-cart part. She was very much one to take destiny into her own hands, as I would learn over the course of our association. I probably should have taken note of it when she was gutting Baldy, it would have saved some trouble.

"One more question, before we do this," I said, as a thought came to mind, "When I was arrested, the chevalier said that I spoke with a dwarven accent. I thought he was mad. Are there dwarves too?"

"Most certainly," replied Tam, smiling again.

"And you do have a dwarven accent," Julie added, "It was the reason I decided to trust you at first. Well, one of the reasons. It was unusual."

"Huh," I said to myself. I wondered how it came to be the case that two peoples of different races and worlds had the same accent. The answer was fairly simple, when I finally discovered it, but for the moment, we proceeded with the task at hand: Grand Theft Cart.

* * *

"What about this one?" I asked, pointing.

It was a large covered wagon, not dissimilar from the one that Goldie dumped me in to bring me to Halamshiral in the first place. Julie and Tam looked at it casually, trying to avoid looking like they were sizing up one to steal but generally failing. I was glad the street lighting didn't really cover this part of the avenue, otherwise we would have been made immediately. Neither of my companions were subtle people.

"If we take a covered one, they'll want to get into it to inspect the contents," mused Tam.

"They'll definitely want to search it," Julie agreed, "We need one with horses ready too, the poor thing over there looks like it's ready to collapse."

The stable yard was fairly busy, and there was a queue to have the horses quartered for the night. Plenty of opportunity for thievery of many sorts. There was no shortage of elves walking past and pinching a box or two off the back of them. And no sign of any city militia or guards, resulting in the occasional brawl as we inspected the line for a likely contender. If I had been in charge, there would have been mass arrests. But I wasn't, so I held my peace in bemusement, irritated by the incompetence of the local government. Ironic, considering I was relying on just that to escape.

Julie and Tam argued over a flatbed cart that had been left unattended, its driver off to complain to the stablemaster about the queue, when another pulled up with a shifty looking human driving it. She got off the wagon and instead of joining the general mêlée for a spot in the stable, she wandered off back down the avenue. Had she abandoned it? It certainly seemed like it. I paced away from my companion's discussion and peeked into the back of it. There were plenty of heavy looking boxes hidden underneath a tarp, one or two big enough to hold a person, but with plenty of space to hide our Qunari friend. While I thought the whole situation extremely suspect, and probably criminal, the opportunity couldn't be ignored.

I rushed back to my companions. Without saying a word, tapped them both on the shoulder and motioned with my head. They followed me without complaint, down the line to the last cart. They both had a look themselves. After a minute, they both nodded. It would work.

"You drive," I said to Julie, "I don't know how."

"Fine, but what do I say if they ask about you?" she said. It was a good question. Even with the blanket covering me, my equipment and pack weren't normal.

"I'm a passenger you're taking home to your village," I said, "If he asks about me further, direct him to me. I'll improvise." Yeah, improvise by blowing his head clean off his neck. Which was about the only plan I could use if it happened. Not exactly the elegant solution.

Tam climbed into the back, and rearranged the cargo around the edges so she could hide herself in the middle under the tarp. Julie climbed up onto the driver's seat, taking the reins, while I plonked myself down at the back, legs hanging off the tailgate. We got moving, the ride smooth for the moment on the well-laid brick road of the avenue. I put away my weapon underneath my pack, keeping both beside me in case I needed to grab it quickly. I was very much planning to shoot my way out if I had to, though doing so would probably draw the attention of the entire city's complement of militia.

The gatehouse was near. It looked like a fairly typical example of one to me. Two round towers, flanking an arch with a portcullis poking from the roof, ready to drop. Two guards at ground level that I could see, undoubtedly more inside the towers asleep or otherwise. Julie drew us up beside the guard investigating those who were leaving, which was a small number but enough to delay things. I watched the masked man talk to the pair of people in front of us, before nodding and sending them on their way. He stretched himself as he approached us, and I put my hand on my firelance, ready to pull it out. I craned my neck to listen.

"Anything to report?" he asked Julie.

"Nothing but a long journey ahead of us," she replied cheerily, "Eager to go home."

"You and me both," he sighed, "What's your destination?"

"Hearth," Julie said, "Wanted to get started as soon as possible."

"You would want to..." the guard said.

It seemed to be going well, until I almost shot up the place and jumped out of my skin. The second guard had gone around the other side of the cart, and tapped me on the shoulder. He chuckled at the effect he had caused, and I just narrowed my eyes at it.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you like that," he said, recovering well, "Was just checking the cargo, when I noticed your boots. They look pretty comfortable. Where'd you get them?"

My sense of relief was palpable, and I was able to answer with a wide smile on my face. I like to think it was a kindly face, but for all I knew, it looked like I had won big on a bet or something. I might as well have, because I think my boots may have saved his life and ours. I'm surprised I haven't picked up the nickname "Boots" in the course of my life, so often have people commented on my footwear...

"Down by the prison, look for a sign with an apple on it, then ask for Jobs," I said, "He said he bought them from a dwarf, but I'm not sure about that."

The guard nodded, holding his chin as he thought about that, whereas I had to contain my laughter. I had made an otherworld joke that went right above his head. "Jobs" was someone with an almost supernatural marketing talent in my world, though he's long dead now and I never bought any of his products. Satisfied that he had gotten what he wanted, the guard thanked me and waved to his colleague to let us through. The cart rumbled forwards again.

I thought we were home free. We passed under the gate without incident, the horse taking us at a steady pace out onto the road. Julie flashed a grin back at me as we got under way.

A flash of light erupted from behind us, followed quickly by a rumble like thunder.

Spooked, the horse stopped and all eyes turned to the source. Even Tam poked her head out of the tarp, to see what the fuss was. Visible through the gateway, a building in the distance had exploded, light soaring into the sky in a column reaching to the heavens. I thought it was a small nuclear explosion, a weapon from my world capable of destroying whole cities in an instant. It was the only comparison I could make at that point. The destruction was massive.

"What is that?" I asked Tam.

"It appears the Circle of Magi in Halamshiral has joined the rebellion," the Qunari said, "Troublesome, considering that they will be unable to reach Andoral's Reach." I blanked her, the significance of her words escaping me. Rebellion didn't sound good, but that's always a matter of perspective, as I find out.

"Let's get out of here," said Julie, her eyes wide and her eyebrows raised. Genuine fear was written all over her face. I decided it was probably a good idea to be afraid too.

"Yeah, fuck it," I said, "Go go go!"

The reins were lashed, and the horse trotted off at a considerable pace. I looked back, as the light died. The guards ran about in a panic, and those waiting to pass through the gate now rushed out and fled in every direction. The event would later be called the Sky Sundering, and it was apparently my fault. Though I still maintain it would have happened anyway. Regardless, we escaped my supposed handiwork, confidently free of pursuers but scared out of our wits nonetheless.

* * *

We kept going until daybreak. The shock at what we had seen wore off quickly. Tam and I slept at Julie's insistence. I'm sure if we weren't exhausted from our efforts, we would have been unable to sleep on the hard wood. Both myself and Tam were practically knocked out in seconds. I had a strange dream that night, that I was back home but there were elves and dwarves. One of the latter was leader of my country. It was a hilarious dream, but bizarreall the same. I must have chuckled like a madman the whole time. It later descended into a much more pleasant dream, of the kind I'm not sure I should recollect here. Needless to say, I think it reflected my newly won freedom from people trying to kill me.

I awoke when Julie called us both, an orange cloud bobbing in the sky above me as I opened my eyes. It was still pretty dark, but the sun was turning the clouds angry colours already.

"I see you both got comfortable," smirked Julie. I sat up, and something poked into my stomach rather painfully, sending me back down again. Perhaps I shouldn't have taken off my armour to sleep. Tam's head was laid on top of my torso, using me as a pillow as she was curled up tightly. It was one of her horns that had pricked me. She looked very comfortable indeed, and completely, utterly harmless. When her life wasn't threatened, Tam was a completely different person, I came to realise.

A cough drew my eyes up at our driver.

"You're perfectly welcome to join us, Madamoiselle Marteau," I joked in Orlesian, yawning afterwards.

"I would like that, but we need to make a decision first," said Julie, "There's a stream off the road a bit, we should stop for a while. Find something to eat."

My stomach rumbled in response, which caused Tam to raise her head for a moment before she lay back down again. I guess that answered that. We needed to stop and take account. It was extremely unlikely we were being pursued, and I got enthusiastic about the idea.

"Sounds like a plan," I replied, "I have food we can share."

"You might also want to wash," Julie said. I was forced to agree, but I think all of us were pretty filthy at this point. Of course, I couldn't let the chance to flirt go by.

"Anything to get me out of my clothes," I replied with a grin.

I got a loud laugh for my efforts, which made me feel better. "We'll see," said Julie. We crossed a small bridge, and turned off the road onto a worn path. The ride got extremely bumpy as we travelled the half mile to a flat spot beside the river in question. The cart came to an abrupt halt.

Tam woke up groggily, pushing herself up using my ribcage. Which hurt, as my bruises from the initial crash had still not healed. She looked around, squinting at our new surroundings and then back at me with a confused look. I shrugged at her, and she stood up to her considerable full height and stretched.

"Good sleep?" I asked, as she disembarked from the wagon with a jump. She turned around and leaned on the side, her shoulders and arms along the edge.

"The best I've had in a long while," Tam said, nothing in her tone indicating mood, "I have you to thank for that, I have not slept in commune for a long time."

"In commune?" Julie asked.

"I was Tamassran," she said, scratching a horn lazily for a moment, "I often slept alongside others, to comfort them. Most often with children, but also with warriors whom had seen too much battle, although there was more to that than sleep. I had done so for years, and I now sleep far better in commune."

"You may have noticed I am not a child," I said flatly, "And I am a warrior who has seen too much battle, or close enough." The implications were... extensive.

"It was more about my comfort," Tam replied, "My apologies. Did I bother you?"

"Not at all," I said, as I hadn't even noticed until it was pointed out. And I was pleased when I did discover it. I climbed down from the cart and hefted my pack onto my pack with my weapon in hand, and the Qunari approached me.

"Then it shall not be a problem," Tam said, her viciously predatory smile coming out again. I noted the use of the future tense there, but thought it a joke at my expense. Big mistake.

My stomach insisted we eat, so the three of us took some of the smaller boxes off the cart and sat in a circle. I got a fire going with the remains of a smashed box and my lighter, which apparently didn't draw much interest from my companions. I opened my pack up, and broke out the pre-cooked meals, sealed in shiny waterproof bags, along with a mini-tripod to heat up some of the food. Both Julie and Tam watched me open one in alarm, as I checked the various tins and containers for what I had.

"What are those?" asked Julie, pointing at the discarded bag.

"The bag or the food?" I asked in return.

"Both," said Tam.

"The bag and the containers are made of plastic, a material from my country," I said, "The food is an MRE."

"Emeree?" said Julie, turning her head slightly, "What is that, an animal?"

"It stands for Meals, Ready to Eat," I said, guessing correctly that acronyms weren't a big thing in a Thedosian society, "Food that's cooked beforehand, then preserved and sealed in these containers. It's soldier food."

"Are you a soldier?" asked Tam, "You seem to be more knowledgeable than a footman."

"What I am is more complex, but that is mostly what I do, yes," I replied, "We can talk about our professions later. Here, just taste some of mine, I brought the good stuff."

I opened the container for the crackers, handing the former to Julie and put a container for some chicken breast on the fire to heat up. Julie grabbed a cracker and wolfed it down without hesitation. She hadn't eaten in at least three days as far as I knew, so I hardly blamed her for not appreciating the glory that is the military-issue cracker.

"They're good," she said to Tam, "Here, try one."

The packet was held out to the Qunari, who took a cracker and ate more deliberately. She nodded her approval, and the pair of them ate all my crackers before I could get a look in. Small price to pay for their company. It was strange, watching the two women from another world gobble down something that wasn't even made on their planet. I wondered about bacteria and the like for a second, but I hadn't had any trouble myself with the native water, so I figured it would be fine. I just sat back and enjoyed watching them eat. Hadn't seen women outside a uniform eat in a good while by that stage.

The sun remained low in the sky, so the fire flickered light around our campsite while it heated the curried chicken up quickly. A few minutes later, I opened the pack, releasing the smell of cooked meat and spices into the air.

"That smells great," said Julie, eyeing the packet hungrily. In truth, it was pretty crappy by Earth standards, but it was probably new to her. I doubted then that there were such spices in Thedas, and to this day I have not found most of them. Although that hasn't stopped me creating an equivalent. I miss my curried chicken.

"You eat meat for every meal?" asked Tam, as I got out a knife and fork to cut up the contents in the bag, "Qunari soldiers are not given meat unless they catch it themselves."

"In my country, we eat meat most of the time, yeah," I replied, "We even have a name for people who don't eat meat. I take it you don't eat it often?"

"We would run out of animals if we did," said Julie, reaching for the meal. I gave it to her after popping a chunk of chicken into my mouth. She gathered a ball of rice and chicken together with the knife and fork, and ate it. A hugely satisfied smile spread across her face as she chewed, lingering after she swallowed the first bite. Tam looked on in envy, as Julie gathered her second portion greedily. I looked on in amusement, and took a swig from my canteen. Then promptly sprayed the contents back out in surprise.

A noise erupted from the cart.

It started with a banging, and was soon augmented with cursing. We all hurried to stand up, and I raised my weapon. Tam grabbed her bow and nocked an arrow, though kept it lowered. Julie kept eating even as she stood, watching like it was a show. It would become one soon enough.

Finally, a box split open, one of the ones that was big enough to hold a person, and a figure emerged from it. Shaking broken planks of wood off of himself, he turned around and found us staring at him. He froze on the spot. The standoff continued to the sound of Julie's chewing.

He was an elf. He had a short crop of messy black hair on top of his head, blue eyes and was pencil-thin. He wore a flowing hooded robe over a tunic and pair of trousers, all of which were a light grey with red lining the edges. He was armed only with a long stick or a spear of some kind, which drained a lot of my aggression. I didn't realise that it was in fact a far more deadly weapon.

However, I don't think I would have reacted differently even if I had known. His demeanour was calm and cheerful. I lowered my weapon and stood at ease, as he hopped down off the wagon. Tam twitched and Julie stopped eating her meal as he did so, but he just took a few steps towards us and supported himself on his staff.

"This might seem a bit sudden, but could I have some of that?" he asked with a grin, pointing at the chicken.

* * *

 _AUTHOR'S NOTE & RESPONSES_

 _Hope you enjoyed this chapter, because I had a lot of fun writing it._

 _If you read it, review it! Doesn't need to be an essay analysis._

 _ **5 Coloured Walker & Judy: **Thanks_

 _ **Rookie571:** I'm glad you like it, as well as BF2157 and Wars of the Systems Alliance. As for 2183, I was somewhat restricted by canon, unlike with this story, particularly with the first few chapters. Breaking the mold on that would have been harder, as there are more defined "stations of the canon" in Mass Effect than there is with Dragon Age. Also, I started at the very start with BF2183, whereas this starts a few years before Inquisition. What I have planned for that story next is going to smash canon to little shreds though, I hope you'll read it._


	5. Chapter 5: Magic

**Chapter Five: Magic**

Tam raised her bow to loose an arrow at the stowaway elf, a rather nasty looking bodkin point tipping it. The snarl on her face informed me she was extremely intent on killing the man. I examined the target, concluding he seemed entirely harmless. Any one of the three of us could have taken him easily with our fists alone. Especially Julie. Tam's bow or dagger was overkill, whereas my firearms could have turned him to a mince pie in a fraction of a second. Or at least, that was my assessment when I decided to stop her from killing the poor guy.

I lightly put my hand on Tam's shoulder to calm her down. Her narrowed eyes and tensed muscles relaxed slowly at the touch. With an exhale of breath, she slowly returned the bowstring to its place, and removed the arrow from its nock. The stranger seemed entirely blasé about the whole thing, continuing with a little smile on his face that was very disarming. I was willing to give him some time to speak. It did not convince our new Qunari friend, however.

"He is dangerous," Tam said firmly, "We should kill him."

"That's impolite," said the elf, "Talking about killing a person right in front of them, without even knowing their name!"

"I know enough, saarebas," Tam snarled at the man, "You are without a keeper, you are too dangerous to live."

The elf rolled his eyes, his smile remaining. He moved to the side and sat down on the nearest free box, placing his staff across his thighs. Julie and I sat too, my ignorant self still entirely unaware of the potential danger. Tam remained standing, now ignoring the fact that Julie had began eating the chicken again. But I had questions he would have to answer before he got any of my food.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"He's an apostate," Julie replied for him, chewing again, "A mage outside the Circle, a rebel."

I snorted with laughter. Finally, a supposed magic user had arrived. Bored to death of the revelations, I wanted to have fun with it.

"My name is Armen," the elf said, not holding the interruption against us, "And it is as your friend says, I am a rebel mage."

I had to see it to believe it. At the back of my mind, I had already decided that magic had to be real if all the things I had seen already were real, but I needed to see it. I took out a dessert packet from the MRE, and opened it. I bit into the treat inside, to tease him a little before I made the request.

"Sam Hunt, at your service," I said quickly, "If you are a mage, show me your magic. We do not have magic in my country."

"You're not from Orlais?" Armen asked, his smile going a bit crooked from confusion.

"Does he sound like he is?" said Julie.

"He sounds like a dwarf," confirmed the elf, "But he was speaking Orlesian earlier on the wagon, so I assumed so. What country _are_ you from?"

"Somewhere extremely far away," I said, "You wouldn't know it. Now, are you going to show me magic or are you not hungry any more?"

Armen's face curled with annoyance, the first time he had displayed something other than a casually happy visage. It still lacked threat to me though, looking more like the face of a child asked to do a chore than anything with real hostility. I felt a little bad, making him into my personal trick pony for a moment, but it was something entirely new to me. It had to be done.

The elf rose, dusting off the bottom of his robes as he did so, before taking his staff back into his hands. What happened next astonished me. He swung the staff in a wide arc, and as he did so, purple-blue electrical discharges began running the length of it. Before I could wonder how he was still holding the thing without shocking himself, he stopped swinging it and thrust it forward towards me. A bona fide bolt of lightning burst from its tip. I didn't see where it went, it was obviously far too fast for that, but I certainly heard it as it passed right by my left ear. It almost deafened me in doing so.

I fell on my ass, while Julie and Tam scrambled for cover. Armen returned his staff to a resting position off the ground, and his face went from one of deep concentration to mild amusement again. I stood up in a daze, recovering quickly. I don't know what sort of expression I was making, but I can only imagine it was something akin to a child seeing a skyflower firework for the first time. I was amazed and impressed.

"See!" said Tam, pointing at him with one hand and keeping her other on her dagger, "He's dangerous!"

I ignored her and clapped the man's performance. The cheeky guy took a dramatic bow, evidently pleased that he had entertained.

"Seems pretty harmless to me," I said. If he had wanted to hurt us, he could have done it any time when we were unaware of his presence. And with great force, evidently.

"Harmless?" said Julie, not believing her ears, "He shot lightning at you!"

"I shot the ground behind him," Armen corrected, "He asked for a demonstration of magic, I gave him the best one I could think of."

"Sam, you can't let him stay," pleaded Julie, "Mages are kept away from the rest of us, their power is too dangerous. The explosion from last night, they caused it!"

That caught my attention, let me tell you. Tam's explanation from the previous night had left out that detail, or rather, laid it out in a way I couldn't understand. My instincts still told me that Armen was not our enemy, but I needed to reassure both Julie and Tam. My intention was to take the elf along, for the same reasons I had taken Tam. He would be useful, and I thought I would like having him around. The latter being for a different reason than the Qunari. If I was going to survive in this world long enough to be rescued, I needed help. I quickly came up with a scheme.

"Tam, you heard me talking to Julie about the dragon, right?" I said, turning to her to ask.

"Yes..." Tam replied, unsure where I was going with the question.

"Did you believe the story?" I continued.

"Not until I saw you in person," Tam replied.

"I still don't believe it," joked Julie. I smiled back at that, as I knew perfectly well she believed me. She had been too interested in my stories to think them false.

"Oh ye of little faith," I said in an exaggerated tone, "I guess it's time to show you."

I turned back to Armen, who had been listening intently without comment. His head raised itself a bit as he realised my full attention was on him. In a way, I felt sorry for him. He was about to bear witness to something not seen by the peoples of this world before, as far as I was aware. Turned out that they had seen something like it, just not in the form I was about to demonstrate. Which was more disturbing to most, apparently.

"My turn," I said to him. He tilted his head, trying to get my meaning. I think what I did next proves that I am a bad person, as I did it with a sense of glee.

I drew the handcannon hanging on my hip fast, holding it with both of my hands. After flicking the safety off, I aimed and fired it twice. The bullets flew out of the barrel, followed by small muzzle flashes. They landed somewhere near the cart, pinging off something hard and ricocheting away into the woods. The sound of the firing also echoed around in a snapping sound off some of the rock formations at the edge of the river. It was a curiously nostalgic thing, actually.

The shots had missed Armen by a good amount of space, but it was close enough for him to hear them whistle by. He recoiled in surprise, losing his footing and and looked around at me. He dropped low, and held his staff in what I discovered afterwards was an attack stance. I holstered the weapon and held up my hands, gesturing for him to get up again. He did so, and returned to his seat. It was his turn to be amazed. I was confident that he wouldn't be trying anything stupid, seeing his reaction. The fear was real, at least.

"Are you alright?" I asked him.

"Not a problem," he said, returning to form, "I guess I deserved that, I did go overboard with my own trick, after all." His resilience was impressive. I went and offered my hand for him to shake, and he took it with no sign of animosity.

I sat back down on my box, and prepared another meal for the fire. As I placed it, I looked over at my companions. Julie had stopped eating again, and Tam was shellshocked. Both were gazing at me, as I knew they would be. I ignored them, knowing that they'd ask the question eventually. The one that came wasn't what I was expected.

"Where did you get a gaatlok weapon?" asked Tam after a few minutes of watching me prepare food, "If my people ever found you with this, they would certainly kill you to hide the secret."

And there I thought that I had something unique.

"You have firearms?" I asked, "Weapons like this?" I pat the side of my firelance. The Qunari nodded solemnly, her previous rage replaced entirely with something akin to reverence.

"They are our most powerful weapons, though I have never seen ones so small as those you have," Tam said, her eyes looking upwards as she remembered, "How they work our most closely guarded secret. Gaatlok is made by a special group overseen directly by the Arigena. Kings and Empresses would sacrifice half of their peoples for the knowledge."

"Is this … gaatlok stuff a black powder?" I asked.

"...Yes," said Tam, "You know of it?"

"Yeah, but it's obsolete to my people," I said, "We have developed better formulas."

Tam moved her eyes to her feet. The significance was huge, I realised. The knowledge I had, or the technologies that had been brought through with me, could change this new world and not necessarily for the better. The weapons alone could be the cause of millions of deaths if mismanaged. And from what I had seen up until that point, I was absolutely certain they would be.

Julie got up and walked over to me. She sat down close beside me.

"It is the work of the Maker," she said, "It couldn't be a coincidence, that you and I happened to end up in the same cell. You could be the downfall of the Qunari, the nobility, all those who think themselves above everyone else!"

"Or, I could be the downfall of your civilisation," I said, ignoring the comment about the Maker for the moment, "You can't tell anyone."

"Could you make this gaatlok stuff?" Julie pressed, squeezing my hands lightly to encourage an honest answer. Her eyes were lit up with excitement. It was impossible to ignore.

"Yes, but you still can't tell anyone!" I insisted. I had pretty extensive knowledge of the subject, actually. Homemade firearms and explosives were a huge problem for our soldiers in the years leading up to my removal from Earth, we had to know the formulas to be able to spot when someone was making them. And black powder is very easy to make if you have the right materials.

Silence descended again, as I pulled the next meal off the fire. I handed it to Tam, and she nodded her thanks. Julie was humming to herself, caught in her own thoughts and obviously happy as she continued eating. Undoubtedly thinking about the applications of explosive powder, given her profession, though I didn't know it at the time.

I began to get more food out of my pack, when Armen cleared his throat. I had almost forgotten he was there.

"About not telling anyone," the elf said, "I'm afraid I can't do that."

Tam bristled, shooting him another lethal look across her eyes. I thought I should probably inform him of what happened to the last person who displeased her to a great degree. And that I would let her repeat it if he was being unreasonable about the issue. But he continued before I could.

"I've lived in a Circle tower for most of my life, imprisoned for what I am," he said, "I like my new freedom. The rebellion gave that to me. If it fails, I go back to the tower or I'll be killed. Just for wanting to live my life outside of a prison. If you have a weapon that can help us, I have to tell my brothers and sisters. Sorry."

I looked at him blankly. I was still pretty much in the dark about the Circle of Magi, the events at Kirkwall and elsewhere, or Orlais' Great Game. But I understood that I had to learn more. Life-long imprisonment without trial for the act of being different has extremely ominous repercussions. The consequences of which I was compelled to seek out. I looked to my companions for the answers.

"What is he talking about?" I demanded, "Mages are locked up like animals?"

"Not like animals," said Julie, "In fact, they're treated better than most commoners. They are taught things, if they get sick they are looked after, and they never go hungry. They can even be treated as nobles in the royal court, like the _Madame de Fer_."

"A gilded cage is still a cage," Armen said softly, "Try watching parents have their child taken from them to be put into an orphanage or see mages forced to become Tranquil on the word of templars who abused them. We are not your enemies, but allies against those who would abuse us."

That stopped Julie cold, and she couldn't formulate any counterargument. I have to admit, thinking back now, Armen was very convincing. He knew exactly what button to push. In Madamoiselle Marteau's case, it was her animosity towards the rulers of the country. I thought then that it was because of her arrest and treatment at their hands over taxes she had no say in. It was deeper than that. He was able to provoke sympathy for his cause very easily, as it was the same set of bastards that had put him away. He couldn't possibly figure out a Qunari, however.

"They are a threat to everyone else," said Tam between forkfuls of chicken and rice, "Here, they are separated from society, and killed only if they break the rules seriously. It is softness compared to the Qun. They serve or they die, any disobedience is treason."

I found that easy to believe, having seen the power myself. However, I wasn't thinking in the right direction. I should have been asking where the power came from, rather than what a mage could actually accomplish. Also, given Tam's strong hostility to Armen, I was certain I could believe that her people treated magic users even worse.

"Alright, that's enough," I said, heading off the argument before it went further, "I just want to know if there's something I can do to get you to keep my secret?"

"Nothing," said Armen, "I can't let such valuable information go. We won't be herded and hid away any longer."

I sighed at the man's politely cheerful stubbornness. His smile hadn't left his face, even as he had argued his case. I wondered if he was so cheery when he was locked up in a tower somewhere. I handed him some food, which he received graciously.

A desperate thought occurred to me, as all the pieces fell into place.

I had a duty to protect this man. The founding principle of my own homeland was liberty, and here I was, refusing to help a man who had been deprived of that his whole life. I suddenly felt ashamed. Beyond that, there was the oath I had sworn to defend the right of people to be free of oppression. Other world or not, I didn't feel any different, I was a peacekeeper. According to the laws under which I served, what Armen, Julie and Tam had described as the life of mages constituted a crime against humanity. In other words, actions so heinous that they would have drawn the ire of the entire world. At least, back on Earth they would.

There was only one choice, if I was to maintain my own sense of honour. However limited it might be.

"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness..." I said to myself, quoting the declaration of my homeland's freedom.

"...What does that mean?" asked Julie, her eyes agape.

"It means Armen's cause is worthy of consideration," I replied, somewhat embarrassed that I had spoken the words aloud, "If I were him, I would fight too."

"So, will you allow me to leave?" the elf asked, hopefully.

"Better. I can't fight for your cause, I don't know enough yet, but I can help in other ways," I said, "Come with me, and I'll try. Show you things that are potentially more powerful than the weapons I have here."

Armen's smile widened, and he gave a single nod. I guess he believed me, or perhaps he was just curious as to what I would bring to the table. Tam immediately stood up.

"You can't let him journey with us!" she complained. Her tone told me that she already thought it inevitable. This was to be her last word on the matter.

"You want to come to my country?" I said.

"Very much," Tam replied.

"Then you have to understand something," I continued, "If my country were to hear about how these mages have been treated, my people would be outraged. It might even be cause for us to send our armies, and trust me, there is nothing on this continent that could stop them. That's how evil they would view it as. And how evil I think it is." We had no shortage of ambitious men looking for any excuse, I might have added.

The Qunari sat down again, defeated.

"Very well, but I will act as his arvaarad and watch him," Tam said, waving her dagger at the mage menacingly. Armen seemed to find that funny. Really shouldn't have shown that so blatantly, friend. She's really good with that blade. Seriously, she'll flay you in seconds, stop grinning. I went over to her for reassurance, as I didn't want it to become a problem. I crouched down beside her, and she raised her head when I did so.

"Good, I trust you to do so," I replied. She grimaced a little, but accepted the responsibility. The mage did need watching. I may have liked him, but I wasn't stupid either.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to wash."

Julie's eyes tracked me as I went, while Armen tucked into his curried chicken with every hint of enthusiasm. Tam sat and brooded over the events, but didn't appear particularly unhappy. Things were still tense, but I hoped a little time off would help. The sun was finally beginning to make itself known, and the murky darkness of the forest riverbank started to dissolve.

* * *

I bathed in the river without incident. Being able to clean off the sweat of days and the dirt of a prison cell felt absolutely divine. The stream was very cold, but I couldn't care. I even swam a little downstream. By the time I was finished, I felt like I had been reborn, baptised in the new world's craziness and now immune to it. A naïve view, in truth, but it was just that sort of atmosphere. I felt a lot better after dealing with Armen and his predicament. Like a proper soldier again. I hoped that I had gained another person to rely on while I was here.

The temperature was on the up and the sun was rising higher. After drying myself with my sole towel, It began to feel very warm. I put on a fresh set of trousers, pulled on my boots, but left my top half uncovered. No point in burdening myself before I had to, I figured. I set about arranging my next move. I went to my bag to find the scribe's documents, but found my pack in disarray. Out of the corner of my eye, Armen was watching.

"Did you go through my stuff?" I asked politely.

"It was her," he said, "The pretty one."

"Which one is that?" I asked, knowing the answer would be a good one.

I think he realised that he had run himself into a trap. "Both of them," he smiled after a pause.

I chuckled and nodded. I guess he was a kindred spirit in more ways than one. To be honest, I could tell that immediately. Little did I know that many Circle mages were like that. Guess there isn't much else to do in a tower all the live long day except read and the other thing. Making them excellent people for two reasons, in my opinion.

"How did you manage to come into the company of two lovely ladies like that?" he asked, "I'm extremely jealous."

"Prison, would you believe?" I said, "We managed to break out last night."

Armen looked very thoughtful for a moment, like that meant something to him. He took out a small journal from the folds of his robes and made a note of it. It did mean something to him, in fact, but he kept his counsel. I didn't think much of it, that perhaps he was wondering how we managed it.

"Escaped from prison last night, you say?" he said, "Now, that is interesting."

Shaking my head at yet another random thing I wasn't going to get, I steered the conversation back on course.

"What did they take?" I said.

"Clothes," said Armen, "Clothes and crackers."

"Huh?"

The elf laughed for a bit, and walked away to the wagon again. He began talking to and feeding the horse. I shrugged away the issue, and got out the notes that Red Mask had waved around at the Orlesian equivalent of a show pre-trial. The front page was, inevitably, the sigil of the royalty; a lion and the face of a woman embraced by sunbeams, stamped onto the rough yellowish paper with blue ink. I opened the page, and a problem spat in my face.

The letters were not familiar to me at all.

I scratched my head, wondering at the paradox. I could speak the languages of this world as they were practically identical to two in my world, though their names were different. Common is called English, and Orlesian is French, in case you were wondering. Yet, despite this, the written language was unusual, or at least, the alphabet was. I managed to figure out that the most of the letters had direct counterparts in Latin script, the type you are now reading this story in. I looked out for a sequence that had the same number of letters as my fake name, Clint Eastwood, and quickly found it near the top of the first page. The rest was in Orlesian, so reading it quickly wasn't going to happen. I would need to decode it.

I sighed, and leaned back, holding the paper out to try anyway. Red Mask had said there was a huntsman, which meant there had to be a village nearby the dragon nest, from which I could search for my stash.

I was getting nowhere, when a cold hand landed on my bare shoulder. It was as if an ice creature had come up to say hello, the coolness biting into me. I shivered at the touch, and turned around to see who it was.

Julie was standing behind me. She was wearing a military shirt from my world that was large for her, my boots, and I presume something underneath, though the shirt was too long to know. Her hair was damp, and twisted around to one side like she had tried to wring the water out of it. I supposed she had been swimming too, though how I had failed to spot her the first time remains uncertain.

This was the first time I managed to have a look at her in light conditions that weren't bordering on darkness too. The prison cell not having much of skylight and the streets of Halamshiral at night being nearly pitch black. She was olive-skinned, and her brown hair had a strong hint of red to it. Her cheeks had a mild sprinkling of freckles. From head over heels to tumbling down a hill uncontrollably, was I.

She poked my back with her icy finger, halting my eyeing up of her. Which was hardly fair, she was doing the same to me. A question came that I probably should have anticipated.

"What is that tattoo?" she asked, "What does it mean?"

"A bald eagle, clutching arrows and an olive branch," I replied, "It's the coat of arms of my homeland."

"And the other one?" Her finger brushed across my back. She was teasing me.

"Coat of arms of the United Nations," I said, "My other employer, you could say, though it's a lot more complicated than that." It really is. I still need a drink or two to even bother to trying explain it.

"Is that a map in the net part?"

I had forgotten that the second tattoo displayed my entire world, and I still had not told anyone that I was from another world yet. Whoops. Not that Julie would have believed my cover story, or Tam for that matter, having eavesdropped on us.

"It is indeed," I said.

Julie gave me a troubled look, and began tracing my back with her finger, trying to get a better look at the map. This was the moment that the truth first entered her mind as a possibility, I suspect. She looked at it as if trying to work something out. I think the round shape of the map caused her to think it was a depiction of a sphere. That is to say, another world. It later surprised me when I learned that Thedosians knew that their planet was round.

The madamoiselle didn't pry, though she did something else. When she was done inspecting the map of Earth and the eagle, things started to escalate. She sat down and put her palm against my back, moving it around. Followed by her cheek. I straightened up on the box, just before she hugged me from behind, arms around my chest. You might think that it was a very pleasant, but it was actually like being hugged when naked by a god damned snowman. For a minute anyway. Albeit a very attractive snowman.

"Ah, you're warm," she said, and I nearly fell to pieces. She practically nuzzled me. I learned long ago not to question Julie's whims, but at this point, I was a bit conflicted about her forwardness. Though I think it was also what attracted me to her. Alas, contradictions of the male mind.

Thus began my long and glorious career as a body pillow. The End... Actually, wait, that joke is too close to the truth. Disregard it.

I let her be. If she was comfortable with it, then so was I. Before she had showed up, I was on the verge of overheating anyway. I didn't remember it being that warm when I had arrived, but then again, it had rained on my first day. I flicked through the papers again, trying to get my bearings on the language as best I could. The dual task of translating both the characters and the language was making it very slow going. There was a lot of legal bullshit I didn't understand either. I must have let out five sighs in as many minutes, as sentences revealed nothing of what I needed to know. I should have known that doing so would draw the attention and ire of Frosty the Avvar Snow-Woman.

Julie moved her head off my back and leaned her chin on my shoulder, peeking at the documents below. Which had very pleasant effects on how close we were, at the expense of a lot more cold contact.

"What are you doing?" she growled, "I'm trying my best here, and you're doing paperwork?"

I laughed loudly at that. We did have a moment back in the prison where we promised to explore this... whatever it was at that time. I turned my head to her.

"All these promises," I said quietly, "Careful."

"Never," she replied, her eyes narrowing, "What are you doing with that?"

"I'm trying to find the nearest village to where I was arrested, I hid a lot of useful stuff near there that I want to go get," I explained, "Problem is, I can't read the letters here. I'm not illiterate, they're just different where I'm from."

Julie reached under my arm with her own, and plucked the document from my hand. Her eyes moved from side-to-side as she examined the page that happened to be on top.

"Gethran's Crossing, a village of the Dales," she read aloud after less than five seconds, "It's on the way." She quickly put the documents on top of another box, and pinned them down with a small stone so they wouldn't blow away. Satisfied with her handiwork, she returned to clinging to the back of me. I was surprised she was able to read at all, given the state of things as I had seen them thus far.

"Thanks," I replied.

"I did it for my own, selfish reasons," she whispered in my ear.

Julie turned my head towards hers gently. Her grin faded, and suddenly it felt hot. The warm feeling one gets when something _interesting_ is about to happen began falling over me. My heartbeat increased, feeling every beat. I was sure that she could feel it as well. I had a slight lump in my throat as she slowly began to lean in, advancing an inch closer. Our eyes flickered around, examining each other. Her lips parted slightly, and our eyes locked. I turned slightly to her, as she repositioned herself. My hands fell to her lower back. She was soft and a lot warmer now. Hers rose to my shoulders. And...

Armen cleared his throat. The complete bastard.

I threw my head back in frustration at the interruption. Julie leaned her forehead on my shoulder, almost hiding from the elf. I very nearly said something unkindly.

"What is it, Armen?" I sighed, not wanting to sound too pissed off but probably failing.

"I don't mean to get in the way, but should you two be doing this when she is watching like that?" he asked, pointing off behind the both of us.

"What are you..." Julie began complaining, as we both craned our necks to see.

Tam was reposed on a rock beside the river, sunlight pouring down from the canopy. Her legs were crossed and she was supporting herself on her hands as she leaned back, sunning herself. Her hair and horns are wet, and her eyes were watching us though her head was turned towards the light.

The real problem is that she was entirely naked. To the extent that almost nothing was left to the imagination. Evidently, she was enjoying herself by drying off in the warmth, instead of robbing mine as Julie did. She continued watching our little scene from her perch, looking somewhat disappointed that it had ended. It was a great moment.

I really do have a type. The forward type. The fearless.

Julie slapped her hand over my eyes, as she laughed. Too late, I had already seen everything. Ha ha.

"What are you doing up there?" she asked the Qunari.

"I cleansed," Tam replied in a tone of absolute relaxation, "I must dry myself."

"I got that," said Julie, "Why couldn't you dry off elsewhere?"

"You ran off, I wanted to see why," Tam said, sounding serious but probably having that smile of hers on. I don't know for sure, as I was still blinded.

"Is it usual for Qunari, or mages, to interrupt other people's business?" Julie asked sarcastically.

"Sex was part of my business under the Qun," said Tam bluntly, "I was Tamassran, as I've told you."

"And there isn't much privacy in the Circle tower," Armen added, half-laughing, "My apologies."

An exasperated sigh erupted from the person beside me, to which I let out a small whimper of amusement. I got a slap on my back for my trouble.

I remember thinking that we really needed to have that chat about professions soon. I was pretty sure that a job that mixed archery, precision dagger work and sex would have a good story behind it. Little did I know that it was actually even more interesting than that. And there was still the mystery of Julie's own line of work.

For the record, that incident was also the first time I saw Tam outside of the dark either. Her hair turned out to be a silver-gold, rather than just pure white. Torchlight, whether its origins are flames or flashlights, didn't do it justice in the slightest. As for the rest, you can use your imagination.

After that, Julie complained some more but didn't really have her heart in it, and everyone got back into their normal state of dress. I once again donned my armour, and feeling worthy of it, finally donned my blue beret for the first time since arriving. With the drama over, we packed up our things quickly, tossing everything into the cart that wasn't trash. I burned the MRE packets, keeping some of the reusable containers, to avoid someone getting hold of either.

We got moving again quickly. The whole bathing incident had greatly defused tensions between all of us, over the rebellion and whether or not we trusted each other. So, we proceeded in very good spirits.

* * *

Between there and the crash-site, nothing really happened. I sat in the back with Julie and Armen, while Tam was conscripted to drive for her sins. We travelled quietly for the most part, alert to anyone coming from either direction. There was no shortage of those either, and despite being relaxed, we tracked every new group or individual as a precaution. Many looked at our group with curious interest, something I attributed to our mix of individuals from different races. Despite that, it was pretty boring.

I had two interesting conversations during some downtime, however.

The first was with Julie. Something other than her wit or looks had caught my attention.

"By the way, how is it that you can read?" I asked, my tone as gentle as possible.

"The old Revered Mother back home made sure all the children could, before she got too old for it," Julie replied, not insulted by the question at all, "In fact, most people in the Hearthlands and the surrounding areas can read, but if you go further, most can't. I guess the Chantry has other priorities now, the new mother is much more of a firebrand and not much of a teacher."

This was both surprising and unsurprising. Religious organisations had long taken an interest in education in my world, for better or worse, but teaching serfs and commoners en masse seemed a bit out of reach for what my countrymen would call a medieval society. The Revered Mother must have been a woman of great wisdom, I thought.

Julie went to sleep afterwards, leaning against my shoulder. I left her to it. She had got us this far, driving the wagon through the night. It was a strange feeling, going back to the place where Fraser and his men had died, where I had despaired, in such good company. Like visiting very old friends that you haven't seen in years with a group of new friends.

The other interesting conversation was with Armen.

"So, why did you steal my cart?" he joked from the back of the wagon.

"Why were you stowing away on the back of your own wagon?" I shot back, "Just checking the inside of that box, were you?"

Armen waved his finger at me. "That would be telling, wouldn't it."

"So, you won't tell me who the lady driving it was?" I continued, "Friend of yours? Perhaps more?"

"Temporary acquaintance, a friend of a friend," he smiled, "She very kindly agreed to lend me the wagon in return for a small fee and a promise."

"From the rebellion?" I asked.

"For a third party, on behalf of the rebellion," he corrected me, "You don't seem very knowledgeable about current events."

"Oh, I just flew in," I said truthfully, "Dropped out of the sky, really."

Armen just watched me with a smirk.

"Where are your wings?" he said, "You are … extremely strange."

"How so?" I asked.

"The things you say are bizarre," he said, "The principles you stand for are entirely alien to these lands. Dangerous in the extreme even. Yet you bear them openly, and without fear of retribution."

I smirked at that. "You've seen my weapons, I'm capable of plenty of retribution in my own right."

"Then there's her and her," he said, pointing out Julie and Tam, "They both seem loyal to you, and I think I understand why."

"I can't possibly imagine why myself," I said, honestly enough. I doubted the few stories of my country I had told could sway a person that much. I would be proved wrong on that. One should never underestimate the power of a story to instil hope. It still seemed like Julie and Tam knew a lot more about me than I knew about them.

"It's a madness almost," Armen chuckled, "I hope you'll be able to help me, so I follow you, but I have no proof. I'm sure the others are the same."

"I will do what I can," I replied, "If even half of what you say is true, about what you have gone through and seen I mean, then it would dishonour all my oaths to ignore it. Besides, it doesn't look like I'm going home soon."

"I'm glad to hear it," he said.

We went on to discuss the Templar Order at some length, with Tam chiming in at parts, particularly with regard to their combat abilities. The details everyone in Thedas knew came first. They exist to protect the world from the dangers of magic, and they have certain capabilities to carry out their duties. They guard mages in towers called Circles, separating them from the rest of society by force. They test young mages to see if they can resist possession by demons. That last detail made me snicker. Cults of all kinds had used the same excuse to gain power over people in my world, so I assumed it was the same. Even when Armen assured me that it was a real threat, I didn't believe him. And wouldn't for quite a while.

The elf then spoke of the reality of the Circles. I won't get into the details here, as they are better discussed in relation to another incident, but I will say that I was utterly disgusted. The absolute contempt for the lives of the people imprisoned, the lack of any due process, the abuses, the complete apathy and lack of oversight. It was the same poison that I had been fighting against on Earth. It made me physically sick with anger for a brief moment.

I quickly calmed down, with a little help. Julie shifted her weight onto me a little in the midst of my fit, defusing my wrath instantly. Armen and I had a good chuckle as she spoke in her sleep about chicken.

* * *

By the time we arrived near my crash-site about six hours after we set out from our morning camp, it was hot and humid.

There was no need to search using the town that Julie had indicated from the documents. When we were close, it was obvious. The damage that the dragonfire had wrought was visible from the road, and the layout was familiar to me. The fire had spread further than I thought, blackened trees standing among their still green neighbours. Of course, if I hadn't known which village to look for, we could have went by another road, so it was still good luck. The wagon rumbled along on the uneven ground slowly once we got off the path. The horse was tired after so long a journey, we wouldn't be going anywhere again today. Which suited me just fine, really. It was almost like a pilgrimage for me.

We rounded the ridgeline where Fraser had made his stand, and what was left of the dragon came into view. Something had picked almost all of the flesh off of it in the two days since I had seen it. It was now a skeleton, its ribs collapsed in on themselves and not a scrap of meat was left. The corpses of the dragonlings were entirely missing.

I wondered if there was a predator or scavenger animal in the forest that had done it, but it seemed precise work. Dragonhide is highly valued for its toughness, being comparable in properties to the materials used in my armour. I had a vague notion of that at the time, again due to the stories told about dragons in my world. I had no idea about the illegal market in dragon meat, though. Dragons were all property of the Crown in Orlais, which was why the fangs had been the big deal.

The others looked at the dragon with a sense of awe. Julie sat up straight, rubbing sleep out of her eyes rapidly. Armen's smile disappeared, and his face sharpened. Tam kept glancing between the dragon and I with an impressed look on her face. I couldn't help but milk it, of course.

"Told you we killed a dragon," I said, thinking of how the soldiers faced down the beast with no fear again. Compared to the swine in uniform I had met so far, they were gods among men.

Julie shoved me away playfully with a smile on her face, and got up to get a better look. They really don't call it the Dragon Age for nothing.

The helicopter's shell also became visible as we passed further into the meadow. The sight of it drew open gasps from all of my companions. It almost looked like a metallic monster with its mouth wide open from the angle we were approaching from. A man once said that sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic. In the case of the vehicle that brought me here, it was sufficient enough to make the inhabitants of a world with magic think it was beyond magic. But then, Thedas is and was still fairly primitive. Thanks to its many stubborn zealots, and for no other reason.

"What is that?" asked Armen, the one who hadn't heard my story in the prison block.

"It's how I got here," I said. The elf looked confused, and I couldn't blame him. Although the helicopter had wheels, they were small and the entire thing was made of metal. It would have taken teams of horses to move it on the ground, without its machinery working anyway.

"A flying machine..." said Julie with wonderment.

I had told her about aircraft when I was discussing my travels on Earth, as she had asked how I had been to so many places in so little time. She hadn't reacted at the time, but seeing it in person was a different experience. She hopped off the side of the cart and rushed, not bothering to wait until it had stopped. We watched her disappear up the ramp at the back, the others carrying a worried look. By the time Tam had pulled the wagon up alongside the machine, Ms. Marteau had began opening every compartment in the thing. I watched her move about inside through the round windows, as she tried to figure it out.

"Is she serious?" Armen asked, as we climbed down off the wagon.

"Deadly serious," I replied, "My country has had flying machines for a hundred years."

"Impossible," the elf replied, "You would have conquered the world if that was true."

"We did," I replied. That confused him very much, and he stood back and watched us from afar as we moved closer. Though I might add that we didn't conquer it with aircraft or firelances. We left that sort of thing to the British.

Our Qunari friend joined the inspection, running her hand on the metal skin covering the machine and looking at the symbols painted on its side. She did so as if it was an animal at first, softly moving her hand over it, before confirming that it was in fact a machine. She rapped her knuckles off of it. She was trying to work out if it was a trick of some kind, I realised. She sat down on the edge of the hull that stuck out slightly and looked at me.

"What does this say?" Tam asked, tapping the inscription written between her legs. Which gave me flashbacks to the riverbank, just a bit.

"Royal Air Force," I said, after clearing my throat to clear my mind, "The round symbol is theirs too."

"Royal? I thought you said you didn't have nobles in your country," she asked.

"This machine belongs to an allied nation," I said, "But their Queen only has ceremonial power." Which was also the country from which my former homeland declared independence, much like Fereldan and Orlais. But better. Tam nodded, rubbing the metal skin of the helicopter again.

"I agree with the mage," she said, "This is impossible. Yet I'm sitting on it, touching it. I don't understand."

"It would be hard to without seeing it in action," I said, "I've flown in this and things like it more times than I can count. It's actually boring to me."

Tam watched me for a moment, and nodded. She believed what she could see and touch, and I guess this was good enough along with analysing whether or not I was lying. I wasn't. I would later miss flying very much, as travel by horse, carriage or sailing ship just takes too long. The result of which is another tale in this story. The Qunari was satisfied either way.

"If this is truly a machine that flies, show us," Armen said, like it was a wager, "I want to see."

"It's damaged badly," I said flatly, "The parts that make it fly are banged up, and I'm not sure I could start the machinery with the controls smashed to shreds either." I pointed to the front, which was nothing but ragged metal. Armen glanced there, and frowned. I guess he really wanted a demonstration. He wasn't alone.

Julie finally exited the interior and returned to us, slightly red faced but with a very pleased look about her. The excitement flowed off of her. It was at times like these that I appreciated her most. Well, almost most.

"I give up," she said, "Tell me how it works."

She stared at me, awaiting the answer with bated breath. I was happy to oblige her. I took her by the hand and brought her to the side, where she could see the whole thing. Tam followed, while Armen just listened in interested silence from the rear. I had a decent enough analogy for the whole thing, and I remain astonished that I was able to come up with it on the spot.

"You know how a windmill catches the wind in its blades?" I said, "Well, imagine that instead of the wind pushing the blades, there was a machine that turned the blades to push the wind."

I pointed to the two raised sections on the roof at the front and back, where bent and broken metal blades hung off, some limp in their sockets, others still jutting out. My companions eyes followed my direction. They were all ears now.

"The blades are there, as you can see," I said, "They push the air down, lifting the whole thing up."

I indicated for them to stay, while I climbed up onto the hull. I went to the back, balancing as best I could on the rounded top. It took some effort and no small application of force, but I managed to open up the skin of the machine to reveal its engine, the metal piping and wires sticking out. After a few minutes to catch my breath, I explained further.

"This is what drives the blades to turn along with one on the other side," I said, "They are turned so fast that you can barely see them, and it pushes the air downwards with the force of a storm."

I climbed down to rejoin the others.

Julie was holding her chin, her head inclined downwards in deep thought.

"I don't understand how you would move the blades fast enough," she said, "But seeing this... I think it's possible, but I can't believe it."

I slid down and sat against the helicopter, and drank from my canteen. The sun was absolutely beaming down, and there was little cover.

"I told you," I said, "We don't have magic where I am from. So we rely on machinery and… I suppose you'd call it alchemy."

Julie and Tam sat down beside me on either side, and the latter took my flask from my hand. She drank deeply for a moment, and handed over again.

"I was right to follow you," she said, "The Qunari could never defeat a country with such power."

"America, fuck yeah!" I declared with a laugh, drawing more confused glances. I couldn't explain that, so I just waved it off. The others returned to their places.

"So all you said about horseless carriages, buildings the height of mountains, the food..." Julie said, "All true?"

"All true," I said, "Especially the food."

"And no nobles?" she asked.

"No nobles," I confirmed. We had our elites like any society, of course, but no one was their slave.

She looked up at the sky. She blindly took my hand and threaded her fingers with mine.

"How wonderful," she said. She began tightening her grip a little, and rubbing her thumb on the top of my hand. Which was very pleasant. Ah, the nostalgia of that moment still hits me pretty hard.

"Don't forget weapons of mass destruction and ice cream," Tam added, having no clue about either. She moved to join us, a huge smile on her face.

Unfortunately, they never would see my world. Nor would I see it ever again. We would learn this in a most disturbing fashion. This would have consequences for both the circle of people assembled beside the machine from another world, and far far beyond. Julie's enthusiasm for the descriptions of my country and my world was deep rooted in the reality she found herself in. Tam's own reasons were no less valid. The realisation would send both to great heights. This is another reason for my writing of this text. Though it may only ever be read by a very few, privileged people, it must be recognised that this is where it began.

Armen moved closer to the metal, and went to touch it. I watched him for any betrayal of his feelings. His face was one of study, as he scanned the machine visually, still unsure of what to make of it.

When he finally made contact with the metal, he withdrew his hand sharply and stepped back. He looked over the helicopter again, like it was snapping at him or something.

I raised an eyebrow. The elf wandered over in front of us, and smiled.

"I believe you now," Armen said, "This machine has been touched deeply by the Fade. You are not of this world."

I groaned. The secret was out, I knew. He wasn't lying either way, at least about the second part. I had no idea what the Fade was. I put my face in my hands for a moment, before releasing myself. The mage just had to say it, I remember grumbling under my breath.

"I told you that you couldn't believe where I had come from," I said wearily to the two sitting beside me.

* * *

 _AUTHOR'S NOTE & RESPONSES_

 _Happy July 4th to all American readers. I think you'll find the contents of this chapter were quite ironic given the release date, though in truth, I wanted to put it out yesterday. Editing took ages, and I'll probably edit it again, as it's a pretty large chapter. Perhaps too large._

 _Also, noticed that the Dragon Age section of FF is way more active than I'm used to over at the Mass Effect section. Stories seem to drop off the first page very quickly. Frankly, it's motivated me to write more quickly, but damn guys, you are prolific in the extreme._

 _As always, reviews are very much appreciated, positive or negative._

 _ **Kirareaper:** Cheeky stowaway indeed._

 _ **Meebsterman:** I'm trying to break the fantasy party mold as much as possible with Hunt's companions. Armen is the most obviously cliché one at the moment, but he's got some stuff coming that'll smash it._

 _ **5 Coloured Walker:** That bar scene is coming..._

 _ **PRrussiaGC:** We'll be running into many of Inquisition's characters at various points before and after the Breach shows up. It's set a few years before the Conclave, as the Mage-Templar War is starting and tensions in Orlais are on the rise. Look forward to writing those scenes myself. One is coming up in three or four chapters, actually._


	6. Chapter 6: Gods of Men

**Chapter Six: Gods of Men**

Julie got up from her sitting position and knelt on both legs beside me.

"It's true?" she asked, a worried look on her face. I felt my chest tighten at the question and the look. Not being able to tell the truth for fear of being thought crazy was one thing, but not doing so made me feel guilty anyway. I had thought I would feel relief if the truth ever came out, so I felt even more guilty for my mistake.

"It is," Armen said, before I could speak, "And yet, he is no demon. I've felt no signs to indicate otherwise from him despite sitting beside him for hours. The real question is what is he?"

"Demons don't exist," I said, "I'm a person, just like you, I was just born somewhere else. Does it matter if it's another place here or another world?"

Tam shifted her weight beside me. I turned to see what she was doing, only for her to start poking and prodding me. The Qunari got very close indeed as she proceeded to inspect as much of me as possible. She pulled at my face, felt under the chest-plate of my armour, poked at my hip, and even groped me briefly, before finally relenting with a short hum. Resisting didn't seem like a good idea at the time. Her daggerwork wasn't something to be crossed when she was barely an inch away, and given the bombshell that had just been dropped, I wasn't sure of her state of mind. Besides, it wasn't unpleasant.

"What was that for?" I asked. She gave a blank look back in return, like the question was absurd.

"If you are not a demon, then you are definitely human," she concluded, with a nod, "Anatomically speaking." She returned to her previous place with a satisfied air.

"No shit, Sherlock," I replied.

"How are we going to return to your world?" Tam asked, ignoring what I had said, "How did you come here?"

"Will another flying machine come?!" Julie added, returning to a cheerful state. She was practically bouncing, actually.

"If we're going to leave quickly, it is probably the only way," Tam continued, "I've never flown before."

The presumption that they'd be coming along for the ride if my countrymen came to rescue me emptied a lot of the worry out of my mind. I guessed the revelation didn't really change much for either of them. In truth, it actually provided even more motivation for them, given what they were trying to escape. Another world, where they'd be safe, beckoned. I was just glad they weren't running from me in horror, or getting ready to turn me over to some nutjobs to burn me at the stake. My affection for them beyond the aesthetic jumped up still further.

"I'm hoping they'll come, yes," I said to Julie, "My people are very smart. It might take a while, months even, but they'll find out what happened and will try a rescue. We don't leave anyone behind." I left the possibility of the conquest of Thedas by the nations of Earth unexpressed. Largely because I would have been perfectly happy to watch that unfold, but I doubted my companions would have been.

"What did happen?" asked Armen, leaning against his staff, "Describe how you came to Thedas."

I told him the tale. How we were flying from one place to another when everything started to shake. The green sparks that flowed all over the helicopter's body, sticking to the metal like it was magnetic or something. Our rough landing and the death of the pilots. Armen asked if the green light had touched me. I told him that it didn't, which set him mumbling to himself. Stuff about the Fade, demons, magi and who knew what else. None of which I understood, and most of which I still don't.

Unable to make out what he was saying, I turned my attention to the others again. Tam and Julie were whispering to each other. Which was alarming in itself, without what came next.

"Take off your clothes," Julie ordered, pointing at me.

I could have gotten enthusiastic about that command, especially coming from the two beautiful women who issued it, but the problem was that I very much doubted they wanted to have fun. They didn't look like they were up for that, and the timing was too bizarre to begin with. Not knowing why they were asking, I stood up and backed off a little. They followed together, choreography perfect.

"I don't think now's the best time," I replied lightheartedly.

"Just do it," grinned Julie, "I promise we won't hurt you."

"Why does Tam look like she's going to?" I joked, taking another step back.

The Qunari's eyes flickered back and forth between me and the floor in a very suspect manner. She wasn't wearing her trademark smile, which would have terrified me, she was just watching me, like I was something interesting she wanted to eat. Julie looked at her accomplice, and her grin grew wider. Which didn't make me feel much better.

"She's just curious," the latter said, "Help me out here." She even fluttered her eyes for a moment, attempting to distract me. And Maker help me, it worked. Julie always could distract me, and I am a sucker for a honeypot. Thankfully, every time someone else has attempted to exploit this, others have stopped me in my tracks. The very two attempting the trick at that moment, more often than not.

While I was busy going soft at the knees, Tam jumped on me.

She grabbed, swinging her arms around me, putting a leg behind one of mine and then using our weight to drop me. I landed on my back, and she on top of me. Which I probably could have appreciated, given her extremely feminine form. Except I was wearing armour, which made me entirely insensitive in the relevant areas of contact. Plus the slight ache of my bruises were distracting. She quickly pinned my legs with her knees, and pushed my shoulders down with her hands. I began regretting my decision to resist, as Tam's mirthful face appeared not five inches away from the tip of my nose. She was enjoying herself.

"Alright, alright," I said, squirming a little, "I give in!" Not that I couldn't have turned the situation around, it just would have required far more violence than I was prepared to inflict on the aggressor in this case. Besides, the view wasn't bad. Tam withdrew from my shoulders, but sat on my legs and crossed her arms across her chest, producing an interesting effect.

Julie knelt down beside us, and began undoing the straps of my armour. I tried to help, but she slapped my hands as they moved to do so.

"Ouch!" I said, laying my hands on my head to avoid another strike.

"Just want to see your tattoos," said Julie, "Relax."

"Why the hell didn't you say that?!" I complained.

A dastardly smirk appeared on Julie's face. Damned prankster.

"Tam wondered if you would stop us from seeing them," she reported, "So I said that we shouldn't give you a choice."

"Because it would be funny to watch her take me down," I said, finishing her sentence.

"Now you're getting it!" she said, barely containing her laughter while patting my head like I was a dog. I clicked my tongue, nothing to say to her audacity. Like I said, prankster. It didn't dampen my infatuation in the slightest, though.

She pulled off the armour and had Tam get off my legs. The Qunari complied with a nod. I sat up and rubbed them a little, trying to work the pain and numbness out. It went away after a few minutes. The pair of them sat down behind me, and rolled up my shirt to see my back. The poking and prodding began anew.

"See, I told you," said Julie, "He has a map of his world on his back, right there."

A soft poke to my left shoulder blade indicated as much. I sighed and sat still. Better to let them get it out of their system.

"It seems be a map," agreed Tam, "But it's small, I can't make out the details."

I coughed twice to get their attention. The prodding stopped for a moment.

"We're not done yet," said Julie with false sweetness, "Just hang on a little more."

"If you want to see a map of my world, I have a better one than that," I said, ignoring her dismissal.

"Really?" she asked.

"Yeah," I replied, "Give over my pack there."

I rolled down my shirt, and moved up against the helicopter again, dragging my armour and combat webbing with me. Tam sat down beside me as Julie tossed over the bag with both hands, and Armen recovered from his trance to start paying attention again. Once everyone was comfortable in a circle around me, I rummaged through the pack for the prize.

I unfolded the map in the middle of the group. It was a mixed physical and political map, showing both the major geographic features of my world and the borders of nations. The others huddled to see, Armen standing behind the two women to gawk at it. I pointed to the north-western continent.

"This is my homeland," I said, "The United States of America."

"The one with all the wonders you keep talking about?" Armen asked.

"We're not the only ones with that sort of thing," I said, "But yes."

"Is that where you started from?" Julie asked, "Or were you somewhere else?"

"We weren't at home, no," I said, before pointing to an area near the connection between two other continents, "We were here, a place called Syria. Nasty place, it's just big desert for the most part. Most of the people hate us there too. We invaded after there was a civil war, to stop the flow of refugees from overwhelming our allies and destroy … well, I suppose you would call it a death cult."

"You keep saying you are not a soldier," said Tam, "But you keep talking about a war." I exhaled wearily. Not least because of memories of the many frustrations resulting from not being able to handle every situation like a soldier would. Sometimes, just killing a lot of people is a lot more simple, although it makes things a lot more complicated if you do. So I don't recommend it.

"I will explain that," I said, "I promise."

Tam seemed impatient, but I didn't give a nug's backside. It wasn't like she was eagerly giving me details about her life, and although I was interested, I certainly wasn't bugging her about it. I guessed a lot of the details from what she had said, of course.

Julie was eagerly taking in the entire map, and had picked it up. Her eyes were scanning every detail, as she got caught up in her enthusiasm for a moment. I watched in amusement, wondering if she was trying to work out how large Earth was compared to her world, which would have been my first instinct to check. In fact, she was doing something else, using a skill of hers that I would learn about shortly.

"You've said 'we' a couple of times now," said Armen, "Who else came with you?"

I felt a pang of sadness for the others, not to mention guilt. After all, here I was, cavorting about with two beautiful women, and they were dead. The question needed an answer, but simply saying it didn't seem right. I got up, put on my armour and weapons again, and stretched out for a second.

"Come with me," I said. The others followed readily enough.

* * *

I led them down the meadow and to the rock I had sheltered behind when the dragon had stomped its way towards me. There, the headstones and graves sat seemingly undisturbed. A row of them, where the soil was easiest to dig. Soil that was now hardened by the sun.

"What are these?" Julie asked, still carrying the map.

"Graves," intoned Tam solemnly, "For the dead."

"You don't burn your dead?" Armen asked.

"Depends on what god you believe in," I replied, "As far as I was aware, all of them wanted to be buried, not burned."

I placed my hand on Patel's headstone, remembering how he stood up to the dragonlings. I bet myself that he'd hit on Tam, if he had lived.

"These were soldiers too?" Tam asked.

"Yes," I said, "They weren't under my command, and I didn't know them for more than an hour or so, but I couldn't just leave them to rot."

"I take it that you are not an Andrastian, then," Armen said.

"I don't even know what that means," I replied.

"It's worship of the Maker," Julie said, "And the saviour Andraste, who freed Thedas from slavery under the Old Tevinter Imperium and then ascended to join him as his bride. I'm not really qualified to speak about it, though."

I was intrigued by that. The Maker sounded pretty much like God, the deity of many religions on Earth including my own. Though I was a very doubtful and passive believer at the best of times. Open worship for births, deaths and marriages strictly. Prayer only before battle. The saviour of this world being female was the really interesting part. I wondered for a moment if the Maker and God were the same deity. It is said on Earth that God works in mysterious ways. Either way, the saviour on Earth and the saviour in Thedas are very much different, though I was clueless at the time. Plus there were other religions on Earth that didn't share the perspective and there are atheists who believed entirely in the natural world alone. I'm not one to say that either were completely wrong.

"It seems to me that there is no shortage of gods," said Tam, wandering down the line of stones, "I once thought the Qun was absolute truth. Now, I do not think it is possible for us mortals to ever know. We're too flawed."

"The gods didn't help these when a dragon came," Armen said, "What use are they?"

I couldn't argue with that, but it brought something less serious to mind.

"Well, someone once said that a prayer and a gun was a lot more effective than a prayer alone," I said, smiling to myself, "God helps those who help themselves."

"Exactly," replied Julie, "We can't expect divines to help us with every little thing. They have to concentrate on keeping the whole universe spinning."

"A convenient way of lamenting the lack of divine intervention in the world," mused Armen, "Much like the Chantry's claims that the Maker ignores humanity's pleas, because he is displeased with them."

"I suppose it is," I said, conceding the point. We were quiet for a moment, all of us doing our own thinking. I don't really remember what I was thinking about that brought up the next part of the conversation. Maybe it was Andraste.

"The Tevinter Imperium..." I thought aloud, "Is that a country or a religion?"

"A country, and they're still around," replied Tam, "Ruled by mages, everyone else is essentially a slave to some degree. My people are fighting them even now."

"Sounds like a shithole," I said immediately, "Are there slave rebellions?"

"There are," Julie replied, "The Qunari exploit them, more often than not." Tam nodded, confirming that last part.

One more thing to add to the list of moral and political abominations existing in Thedas, and everything thus far was nothing compared to the other things I would discover. My impression of the place was held together entirely by the good character of my companions by this point, the only thing holding my instinct to start a one-man war back. I had a formidable arsenal to start regime changes, after all. But the armoury that had come through with me was actually the least powerful of the weapons at my disposal.

"I take it that you being Tamassran is why you know so much," said Armen, his cheerful tone somehow menacing. Tam took it in her stride, and nodded.

"Knowledge is the primary virtue of that profession, yes," she said.

Suddenly, a stomach growled loudly.

I smirked, as I realised both that the culprit was Julie and just how hungry I was myself. It had been morning since we had eaten, and I was still far from used to hunger. I would get used to it at various times.

"Sorry," she said, looking away in shame. Which was actually cute. I just wanted to hug her and laugh, though I was careful to give nothing away.

"That's alright, I think it's time we ate and talked," I replied, "We seem to have a lot of questions about each other. Might as well get them out of the way over some steak."

"Steak?" asked Julie and Tam simultaneously, their eyes on fire. I should have remembered their fondness for meat, given how little they supposedly got to eat it. That should have been a clue for later, but I digress, they were very happy.

"We can hardly eat chicken all the time," I joked.

* * *

 _AUTHOR'S NOTE:_

 _Short, snappy chapter this time. Bet the reaction to the news was unexpected. I felt that stock horror at the news would have been predictably boring, so yeah. Everyone has their own motivations for how they handled it, I guess._

 _This was originally meant to be the first part of the next chapter, but the tone was too different from the rest, so I split it off._

 _ **Judy:** Thanks as always!_

 _ **KiraReaper:** Can't tell you that, unfortunately. Would be a minor spoiler._

 _ **5 Coloured Walker:** This does have romance, though it is coincidental to the story rather than being the main focus. Or is it... I'm not actually sure, given my plan for the story overall. As for the date of the story in-universe, I might as well give it to you as it's not a spoiler worth holding back. It's Solace in 9:38 Dragon, two to three years before the Conclave. So, the Mage Rebellion has happened but the War of the Lions in Orlais hasn't started yet. Not to worry though, we're going to see plenty of Inquisition characters before we get to the plot of the game and I intend to write in arcs with jumps in time in between. In fact, we might see all of them, Inquisitor before she became Inquisitor included. I think the game skips over a lot of what happens in the run up to the Conclave, the codex doesn't do a really good job of explaining events in detail or how people feel about them._


	7. Chapter 7: Discoveries

**Chapter Seven: Discoveries**

We got a fire going with little difficulty, though I was hoping to impress my companions with a little Earth chemistry. You see, the flying machines of my world require fuel to work, a flammable liquid, much like a furnace or fireplace would require wood or charcoal. I had intended to take some of this to make the process of creating a cooking fire much more easy, but when I checked the tanks containing it, they were entirely empty. Long gashes were along them in parallel in groups of three, like something had clawed at the metal. This discovery changed my perspective on our arrival to Thedas somewhat. While slightly disappointed that I couldn't wow anyone, I reflected that it was probably the reason we crashed rather than landed. This was because I had incorrectly assumed that the pilots were still alive once the transition was complete, but it was not the case. The clawmarks on the fuel tanks were a clue that would only fall into a bigger picture some time later.

So, it was left to Armen to show his skills. As well as his electricity, his repertoire of tricks extended beyond that to my surprise. He almost set me on fire in the process. We gathered plenty of dead wood and gorse, piling some of it up for later use and putting the rest in a stone circle just off the ramp of the helicopter. I had a firelighter from my world, and as I bent down to light some of the dry brush, the elf created a small fireball out of thin air and chucked it. The tinder burst into life, surprising me. The others were off getting more wood, thankfully, so there was no embarrassment. Still didn't stop me from checking to see if my eyebrows had been singed off, which they hadn't. I gave Armen my Number One Officer-Is-Pissed-Off look, which worked well.

"Sorry, didn't think you would bend down when you did," he said, smile scurrying away quickly. He was either genuinely sorry or I was scaring him, so I let him off and decided to address the other question the event had raised.

"You can summon fire too?" I asked.

"Yes, lightning and fire are my specialities," he said, his smile returning, "They're agents of change. Quite appropriate for me, don't you think?"

"You could say that," Julie said, returning with an armful of twisted logs, "Bet they're great against people who annoy you." She dropped the wood and dusted off her hands.

"And for cooking," Armen added, not denying her point. Given what I had seen earlier in the morning, I had no doubt he was a formidable force to be reckoned with in any fight. Turns out he wouldn't have been so great against me, which in retrospect is a little funny.

Tam emerged from the woods with half a large tree dragging behind her, which meant we would have enough for the night as long as the elf's tricks held out. Which they would. All that was left was to start cooking. I only had two MREs left, after four of them disappeared into the mouths of my fellows in the morning. I realised that the food was going to disappear far sooner than I had hoped. Definitely before we reached Julie's village, especially if we ate three square a day. Annoyed at this development, I started what I had on the fire quickly, before getting up to get some more from my stash with the weapons.

"Mind the food," I said, "I'll get more."

I got up and walked off to the cave, as the others made themselves comfortable, laying out the blankets we had stolen from the prison on the grass and sitting down. At least they were getting comfortable. I still couldn't shake a bad feeling, as I approached the cache.

I slowed my pace, searching the ground for any signs of disturbance. The grass and soil seemed to be mostly the way it was when I was captured, albeit more solid now as it was dry. There was nothing resembling signs of human activity, but there were a number of tracks leading into the cave. Wary of the fauna of Thedas as I had become by necessity, I drew my handcannon and crept up on the entrance. I flinched as something emerged.

It was a pair of black nugs, the first time I ever saw them. They're similar to large rabbits in my world, with larger ears and shorter hair. Weird paws though, too much like hands for my liking. The two looked at me, both heads tilted in curiosity as I pointed my weapon at them. I guess they were investigating the place as a potential burrow, and hadn't expected to see me. I lowered my weapon an inch, as they obviously weren't a threat. They scurried away along the cliff wall, probably to some other burrow or cave to hide. There is a comedy story in my world where a rabbit kills several knights before being killed with a "holy" hand grenade. I was quietly amused that I had drawn my weapon on them, remembering the story, as I holstered it. I wasn't the only one amused, however.

"What are you doing?" Julie asked from behind. I almost jumped out of my skin. I guess I was so deep in my thoughts that I hadn't heard her approach. She wasn't laughing, but her eyes were. I quickly coughed away my surprise, to cover my bases. Getting jumpy at the sight of a nug was more or less something to be ashamed of.

"Just... making sure the cave is safe," I said, pulling down my armour into a more comfortable position, "You know, in case anything dangerous is hiding in it."

"Like two cute nugs?" she replied.

"Is that what a nug is?" I replied, not answering the question, "Are they tasty?"

I pretended to search for them again, one hand on my weapon, running around a couple of steps as if I desperately wanted to eat them. I got a giggle from my audience out of that.

"They are, but I'd rather have steak," Julie replied, "Can we go get some?"

"After you," I said, holding out my arm. She bowed gracefully, playing along with the joke, and proceeded inside.

The cave, despite being well hidden from the outside, was still large enough for both myself and Julie to walk upright inside. It curved around into the cliff face, meaning the opening wasn't obvious, but anyone bothering to search would find it easily. Both of us are far from small, particularly by the standards of Thedas, so I was surprised that no one had found the hiding spot considering its size. Not to mention that the sunlight fell into it almost directly at that time of day. Both my captors and the poachers for dragon parts had plenty of opportunity. My relief was audible when I turned the corner to find all the boxes and packs entirely undisturbed. Even the large firelance I had hid at the back was dry, my fears of flooding unrealised.

"What is all of this?" Julie asked, banging the top of a metal container with her palm.

"Weapons, mostly," I replied, "We were transporting them to our allies, one of my duties was to go along for the ride to train soldiers."

"Weapons like yours?" she asked. I nodded in response. She looked at the boxes like they would explode any moment, but stood her ground. Anything that could lay a dragon low was probably something absurdly powerful in her mind, and she wasn't wrong. Of course, the weapon I had actually used to kill the beast was gone, and there was only one other remaining. Though the damn beast would have bled to death eventually anyway, considering just how many wounds it had taken.

I reached up and grabbed Fraser's bag, the one I had filled with the rations. It was tipped over, probably from the nugs having a good sniff at it, but it was otherwise intact. Yet more cause for celebration.

"Here, carry this," I said to Julie, "It's all the food I have left." She moved further into the cave and put the bag on her back, fiddling with the straps. She shifted the weight around a little, but it was far from a real burden. Another otherworld innovation that would catch like wildfire later; backpacks. I watched her, realising the potential, then went to the back of the cave. I wasn't quite finished yet.

"What are you doing now?" she called, as I picked up the large firelance.

"Just moving some things," I replied, depositing it on top of the boxes. No need to hide it if we're camped outside, I thought. Anyone looking to sneak in would be mincemeat regardless.

"Moving weapons?" she asked. I wondered if she was bothered by the sight of the weapons, but that was far from the truth. I turned to her with a smile.

"Weapons aren't the only thing in here," I said. I put on the pack filled with sleeping bags, some of them hanging off the side of it, and picked up a large container.

"Ouch," I said, involuntarily. My bruises had complained loudly of my exertion, stabbing me with pain in parts I was using to lift the far from insignificant weight. I put down the box again, and rubbed my shoulders.

"Are you alright?" Julie said, coming closer.

"Yeah, just battered a little from all that's happened," I said, "Your little stunt with Tam didn't help."

She looked somewhat troubled at that, though she need not have bothered. She was easy to forgive. Or maybe I just hadn't been in good company for months and was thinking with something other than my brain, which probably makes more sense. It's hard to tell, so many years later.

"I wish you had mentioned the map before, but I had to see it again," Julie admitted, smiling again. She closed in, stepping over the box on the ground, and put her arms over my shoulders slowly for faux-dramatic effect. It was far from a platonic embrace, all my senses feeling heavy as she whispered in my ear. Yeah, very easy to forgive, teasing or not.

"I'll make it up to you, when we're alone," she said, "It seems we keep getting interrupted... pervert guards, prison breaks, mages, interfering Qunari..."

"We're alone now," I pointed out helpfully.

"True."

Julie and I exchanged a look, and broke off. We dropped the bags to the cave floor. Began relieving ourselves of other obstacles. I fiddled the straps of my armour, and placed it down against the boxes. She unhooked her toolbelt. They fell to the ground with a thud and a clang, as we moved to be close again.

Her lips met mine softly at first. The feeling was electrifying, and I was intoxicated immediately. My heart began racing and my breaths more ragged with every second. My hands went to her hips as we kissed. We moved closer, her hands wandering, mine drawing her as close as possible. Beginning to explore each other a little with everything at our disposal. Julie found the buttons on my clothing, and began to undo them. My hands brushed across her stomach and went to her belt, starting to untangle the mechanism to undo her work clothes.

A groan erupted from below, a stomach crying hungry.

Just as suddenly as the fun had begun, it stopped. We remained entwined in other ways, the heat of the moment still there, but the focus on one another broken. I wish I could say that it wasn't my fault, but I was as hungry as anyone else. Perhaps more so, being so unused to hunger. I guess some needs come before others, though the one being sated was among the few keeping me sane in the wake of all the crazy.

"Perhaps we should eat," Julie said, sounding disappointed a little.

"I'm sure the others are wondering what we're doing too," I grumbled, the interruption jarring me like nails on a chalkboard. The urge to grind my teeth was damn near overwhelming.

Julie chuckled, as we parted fully. My calm restored itself, as she took my hands. "I'm sure they have an idea," she said. I suppose we had been giving off all the signals to that end. Not that Tam or Armen seemed to pay heed. Ever.

"Okay, back we go," I said, defeated.

"We will continue another time," said Julie heartily, "Look forward to it."

She flashed a quick grin at me, to which I could only return one of my own. Placated for the moment, we dressed ourselves fully again, shaking dirt off as we did so. I picked up the box, more carefully this time. It was damn heavy, but I balanced it across my back and held it with both hands, the backpack helping to spread both the weight and keep it in place.

Julie led the way, throwing her own pack over herself again and marching out into the sun again. She held her hand up to cover her eyes as she looked over at the others.

Both Tam and Armen were getting stuck into their meals without a care in the world, chewing away at the meat and gathering more from the cooking bags with forks. I snorted at the sight, their sizes disproportionate from one another and their talents at odds, yet they were seeming equally matched in capability and appetite. They didn't speak to each other, just ate quietly.

"By the way, what is in that box?" Julie asked, as we made our way across the grass to join the party.

"Books," I replied, "Just in case you can't get back to my world, you can still read about it."

Julie gave me a look like I had said something bizarre.

"You were transporting weapons and _books_?" she asked, as we stepped over the blankets, "That seems like a strange combination."

I set the box down to the side as we arrived at the camp fire.

"The books weren't meant to be with us," I said, "They were for the education and rebuilding effort to come later, after we had built up the militia and secured the town."

"Books from another world?" Armen piped up, swallowing his latest bite, "How intriguing."

Intriguing indeed, given what they would lead to. Like I said, the weapons weren't the most dangerous thing I brought through, provided I could hide the technology they contained. Which was easy enough. The content of the books on the other hand, as well as the contents of my head, weren't so easily hidden, as I didn't rate them as worth hiding in the first place. Not sure I would have with the benefit of retrospect, either.

"It sounds like you were also Tamassran," said Tam, "A book and a gaatlok firelance are the same thing; a weapon." Which pretty much sums up my thoughts now. My reaction then was less agreeable.

"You can't kill thirty men or more in less than a minute with a book," I said, truthfully enough, "I know what I'd rather have if I was facing an enemy."

"Books contain ideas, and ideas can raise armies," Tam replied, "The Qun is proof of that. You could defeat a large number of people with your firelance, but you couldn't defeat an army."

I frowned, fairly sure I could defeat a feudal army single-handed if I hit the right people. I didn't lack for self-confidence in my ability to fight or read a battlefield. Particularly when the potential combatants were so unbelievably primitive. But my hunger was gnawing at my gut now, so I let the point slide and started preparing the meals.

* * *

We ate more or less in complete silence, not out of any animosity with each other but because of sheer ravenous need. The beef steak went down even better than the curried chicken had, being somewhat more filling, or feeling as much at any rate. The others very much enjoyed it, leaving the side snacks alone and simply laying down to digest the meal. I was nowhere near as full, probably because I was used to eating far more in a single sitting even in a combat zone, but I wasn't exactly jumping around either. I rather lazily sat about with the intention of cataloguing the books that had come through, hoping for something relatively useful. It was in fact a treasure trove, though I was only looking for one particular thing, a book that remains with me to this day and makes me feel better on the bad days.

There were books on every conceivable topic. Many of them unsurprisingly relevant to civil affairs, given that we were trying to rebuild several nations from the ground up. Aside from a note from the international school sponsoring the project, there was an inventory list and the sheer variety was enormous. From technical subjects like mathematics and chemistry, historical texts on Earth history and classical studies, western philosophical texts on life, politics and morality, a geography textbook and a marching band guide, through to Fraser's selected works on military matters from both Eastern and Western perspectives, which obviously weren't on the list. Scanning the names of the texts, I figured that if I wanted some heavy reading, there was no shortage of it. Not a single fiction among the selection, which annoyed me as I thought I would get bored eventually. However, the last entry caught my eye.

It was a picture book.

It is entitled " _Earth, the Human World_." A large, wide tome, it contains pictures of many places of my world, including many of my homeland. Cities, countryside, monuments, warzones, and peoples of many nations feature throughout. It was exactly what I was looking for. I rummaged through the box for it quickly, desperately. I found it at the very bottom.

Delighted, I called Tam and Julie over.

"I found a book with images of my world," I said, as they crawled over the blankets. The pair double timed it, and Armen stood up and walked around the the back. Soon, I had all three hovering above me, Julie on one shoulder, sitting cross-legged, Tam on the other, holding her legs, and Armen peeking over the top of my head, leaning on his staff. The announcement had the effect I had hoped for. I now had solid proof beyond some magic crap that I wasn't from Thedas, and I was very happy for it. I was unprepared for the effect it would have on me though.

I opened the book at the table of contents, and ran my finger down until I found the picture I was looking for. Where first looks at America goes, you have to go with the classic one, the first look that many of our ancestors saw first upon arrival. I still can't think of any more appropriate way to introduce a complete newcomer to my homeland, and I was actually quite excited to see what they'd think of it. I flicked through the corners of the pages to find the right one, and turned the book to a double-page spread.

It was the city of New York, a panorama picture with the city's buildings in the background, which are no small accomplishments of engineering in their own rights. But in the foreground, the massive Statue of Liberty stood, robbing the attention of the Thedosians. Many will be familiar with it now, but on the off chance that something catastrophic has happened since I have written this, which is bound to happen in the fullness of time; the statue is a monument of a crowned woman in a robe, bearing a torch and a book of laws. She is the personification of both freedom and my homeland.

"New York," I said, "The largest city in my country."

Julie and Tam grabbed the book from my hand and looked at it in shock, holding it between them in front of me. They clearly focused on the monument rather than the city itself.

"By Andraste... It's huge!" Julie exclaimed, "Those are people near the bottom!"

I nodded the confirmation, smiling widely.

"This is your Creator deity?" asked Tam, "The one from the prayer you said when we picked up the mage?"

"No, it's not the Creator, and that wasn't a prayer... This is the Statue of Liberty, but it's fair to say that we worship her as often as we do him," I said, "At least, back home we do. This says that there are no slaves or nobles, that everyone is free. There are others who feel different about how to run things elsewhere, of course. We tend to end up fighting them."

"How did you make such a thing..." Julie said, "It would have taken years."

"It did, as far as I'm aware," I replied, "It was a joint project between an ally and us, as we are both countries ruled by their peoples. It used to be the first thing new arrivals would see of my country, before we invented flying machines."

"Are those buildings behind it, across the river?" Armen asked, pointing a finger.

"Buildings," I confirmed, "We call them skyscrapers, because they reach hundreds of feet into the sky."

Armen looked at the picture again with wide eyes.

"And people live in them?" he asked.

"No, they're used for commerce," I replied, "The smaller ones are where people live, mostly."

"Your country must have many people," the elf continued.

"Over three hundred million," I said, knowing it would seem absurd, "And that's not even a tenth of the population of the world." At the time I left, it wasn't even a twentieth. As for now, there could be as many as ten billion people worldwide, or everyone could be dead. We had weapons that could destroy a city or country easily, maybe they finally used them. I don't know. That's the thing about knowledge, it can destroy a civilisation as easily as it can build one, if people are stupid enough. I guess the elves know all about that, and you'd think others would learn by their example. Apparently not.

And so it went.

We flicked through more of the images of my world, and the others asked me questions. Julie mostly asked me about technology and structures, Tam about people or religions, and Armen about obscure details that others might have missed. I answered as best I could, not being an expert on everything. Some I just couldn't answer at all, particularly when the pictures moved away from countries in the West and onto areas where I had no real knowledge. Some of the captions helped there, but it wasn't much. Various warzones from a decade before were also pictured, and I was able to talk a lot more about them.

However, the more we looked, the more depressed I became. Thedas was not home, and there was always a doubt in the back of my mind about whether or not I would be able to return. I was not some vagrant with no ties or family when I was taken. It's not like I had kids or anything, but if I could not return, I had a lot to lose. Seeing pictures of Earth exacerbated the feeling of near-remorse greatly, and I am not proud to admit I was on the verge of utter despair by the time we finished.

I must have looked extremely sullen indeed, because we stopped a little early when Julie slammed the book shut, waking me up a little from my downward spiral.

* * *

The next incident during our stay at the crash-site was a magic-related one.

We had opted to relax for a while, as we had already decided to spend the night. If by some stroke of bad luck we had been pursued from Halamshiral, then we would throw off our pursuers by doing so. In the mean time, we could recuperate a little from the excitement of the previous night and morning.

We would eventually need to stop somewhere to get feed for the horse, and doing so at night didn't seem like the best idea to me despite the anonymity it might have given us. I preferred going in the day, when we simply looked like merchants on the road rather than people deliberately trying to sneak around anywhere.

So we split off to do whatever we wanted for a little while.

Tam went off into the forest to hunt, after I informed her of just how many of the rations were left and how long they'd likely last if we ate them for every meal. Dinner would be something a little more fresh, I suspected. I hadn't yet seen her archery in action, but given her proficiency with her dagger, I had no reason to doubt the Qunari's skills. Admittedly, I was more than a little worried that she'd run into a dragon, which prompted my own behaviour at this time.

Julie had decided to do something considerably more intellectual with her time. Using the documents with my fake name on it and some of the books as a reference point, she began translating the letters of the Latin alphabet, which my world mostly used, into those used by the Common and Orlesian languages. I helped her in this task by clarifying the sounds of certain letters, as I was sitting beside her the whole time.

To my surprise, she had a very workable grid for translating all of them after a couple of hours. Another hour later, and she was skimming the books from my world, focused on the subjects they covered and inquiring after them to me. If you think that being able to accomplish this task in a few short hours is unusual, you'd be right. It should have taken days or weeks. I was astonished at first, but the feat was child's play to someone like Julie.

Apart from helping our surprise linguist, I concentrated mostly on our defence. I was still in a bad mood, and there was nothing for it but to do something practical. I still didn't know what was beyond much of the brush surrounding us, or above the cliff face. With this in mind, I retrieved two of the weapons Fraser's squad had used. One was a precision firelance with a telescopic sight, designed to hit targets a mile or further away. I didn't have the training to use it at a huge distance, but I was fairly sure I could put one through the eye of a dragon if another showed up in the vicinity. The other weapon was Murphy's weapon. What we call a machinegun, a firelance designed to fire dozens or even hundreds of shots a minute in sequence.

It was pure paranoia on my part, but I wished to have something ready in case Goldie or someone like him showed up again. Some noble prick with plenty of lackeys could have overwhelmed me by sheer force of numbers, but not if I was armed with that. I spent my time between checking that all the weapons were in good working order, helping Julie, and watching Armen do strange things.

The elf was busy with the helicopter at first, muttering about the Fade and the like. I had assumed quite correctly from the tropes of my world's fiction that the Fade was a magical realm, but I had no idea of its nature and still don't due to my... condition. Regardless, Armen touched various parts of the helicopter and hummed to himself, like he was just having a stroll. Occasionally, he took out a small journal and scribbled something in it with a quill, using an inkpot that he levitated in mid-air with his freakin' mind or something.

It had only been half a day since I met him, but already I was getting jaded with the sheer number of abilities he had. His attention turned briefly to the graves, where he seemingly paid his respects and did something magical to determine Maker only knows what. He brooded for a few hours after that, before finally turning his attentions to me.

As I sat, watching Julie read, which I have to admit became a pastime of mine, the mage approached with no small amount of levity about him, swaggering as he did so.

"So, shall I heal those awful bruises?" he declared, wiggling his finger in the direction of my face, "How did you even get them?"

Truth be told, so much had happened that I had completely forgotten about those particular blemishes. My face must have made me look like a thug or something, not good for hiding ourselves later. Still, I felt a lot better at being reminded of the circumstances.

"Sorry again, my fault," said Julie, wincing as she took a look up from a book, " _Je peux vous récompenser pour ces blessures bientôt, oui_?"

"That sounds good," I said, getting her meaning, "But there's no need to say sorry. You thought I was hostile... and then we needed to convince Baldy."

"Baldy?" asked Armen.

"The prison chief," said Julie, "We needed to put on a show for him, to convince the bastard that we hated each other. It was part of the escape plan."

"What sort of show?" the elf said, "A boxing match?"

Julie and myself smiled at each other knowingly, but said nothing. Probably because the show was practice for something else entirely. Which we were both increasingly enthusiastic for. There is a cliché term for our situation that I won't mention at this juncture. We just understood each other like that. A common desire to rip the clothes off one another can create that effect, with certainty. Regardless, Armen got the hint quickly, being the sharp fellow that he is.

"Anyway... Do you want me to heal you or not?" he said.

"With magic? Sure, I'd like to see that," I said, putting down my weapon, "What do I do?"

"Just stay still, and I'll heal the injuries," he replied, kneeling beside me, "This is not my best spellwork, but it will work on a bruise easily."

His hand hovered beside me for a moment, before glowing with soft white-green light. I was reminded of the display I had seen before, and thought that if he could summon lightning, then his powers of healing were probably considerable as well no matter what he said. I let him work, as he moved it near the side of my face for a number of minutes. It felt slightly warm, but no more than what I would have if it had just been his hand. Finally, he closed his fist again, and frowned.

"That's not right..." the mage said, rubbing his chin.

"What, have you turned me into a frog?" I asked, tone dripping with sarcasm, "Or am I just green?"

Armen smirked briefly, before his face returned to one of worry. Which set me to worrying a little.

"No, the healing energies didn't work," he said, "At all."

"...And that means?" Julie asked, sitting down beside me herself to watch.

"I'm not sure," the mage replied, "May I try again?"

I didn't see any real reason to deny him. It was healing magic, not a thunderbolt, so I just gave him a quick nod and set my head still again. He opened his hand again, but this time, actually touched my face where Julie's fist had impacted it. I felt a tingling sensation that pins and needles could compare to but not quite. It didn't extend far beyond that, but that was more and more the thing that did not draw my attention.

Armen appeared to be in increasing distress as he continued to pour magical energy through his hand and onto me. He seemed to sway, and then almost fell straight over, his grip on his staff the only thing keeping him upright. The elf stopped what he was doing and rubbed his temples, sitting down properly to get his bearings. It seemed that nausea or something had overtaken him.

"Are you good?" I asked, "Take a moment... I don't really understand what happened, but you almost collapsed."

"You succeeded, at least," added Julie, the bruises are gone. She rubbed my cheek a little, to emphasize the point, and probably to tease me a little too. I put my hand over hers as she did so, and then pressed down a little to see if it hurt. It didn't; she was right, the elf had succeeded.

"I believe I did," Armen said, breathing heavily, "Ser Hunt, you have an impossibly high resistance to magic. I expected _something_ like this, because you had to travel through the Fade, but... it seems magic has no effect on you."

"What, so he's immune to your lightning?" asked Julie. Which was a question I really wanted the answer to myself, truth be told.

"Yes, any energy drawn directly to or from the Fade dissipates extremely quickly near you," he said, "Only direct physical contact allowed me to heal you, and it was taxing."

"So mages can't hurt me unless they get close enough to touch?" I said, rather pleased at the prospect. Anyone trying to get that close would feel my wrath long before they could.

"Not quite," Armen smiled weakly, "Trying to affect you directly won't work, but I could still burn your surroundings with fire. It is an advantage of course... but the real issue is healing. Undoing your injuries takes so much effort that I really don't recommend that you get hurt. Saving your life from a fatal injury might kill the mage attempting to do so."

So it was a tradeoff. One I could live with more or less happily. We discovered at various other times that there are ways of circumventing the problem, both for people wishing to kill me and for those trying to heal me, but for the most part, magic cannot affect me. Overall, I have to say that I was fairly pleased to hear it. Between the beam explosion at Halamshiral and Armen's own lightning bolt, being immune to a direct hit from that crap was very good news indeed. It strengthened my hand against the only foes I then feared, aside from dragons. It was an overly optimistic assessment.

"How is that even possible?" Julie asked.

"It's far too complex to explain, particularly to a non-mage," sighed Armen, "But essentially, in order to transport Sam to Thedas, something clothed him and most of the other travellers in a very powerful protection against the Fade. This couldn't be natural, or we would have heard about it before. Someone brought him here."

"I presume you don't mean the Maker?" said Julie.

"I have no idea," replied Armen, "It would be the first time I've heard of a deity bringing people from another world."

"So you don't know who could pull this off?" I asked. Primarily motivated by the desire to shoot the culprit to pieces, and turn him into a fine pâté.

"I wouldn't think it was possible at all, even with blood magic, for any living mage," Armen said, "Either it was magic used on something specifically designed to do this, or someone out there has world-conquering power but is using it instead to punch holes in the world to bring through people from another. I'm not sure which is less crazy."

I asked what the Fade was at this point, which Armen explained in clear terms. Dreamworld, realm of gods, demons and spirits. Vacation spot for fadewalker mages, etc etc. Source of all mages' power, and source of their threat. I was sceptical about all of it, but most of all, I still couldn't believe in demons. There is a phrase in my world, "Absolute power corrupts absolutely." I imagined that the "demons" were simply mages driven mad and twisted by their own power. There were plenty of people, magical and otherwise, like that. But I was wrong.

"One more thing to think about, I suppose," I said at last, "I didn't know healing magic was a thing until just now, so I'm not really too worried about it." You know, unless I fell down and broke my damn leg by accident or something. I figured that would be just my luck.

"Try not to get injured then," said Julie, the primary suspect in case of the majority of my injuries. I laughed at her assertion, my amusement hollow. She just hugged me with a smile, knowing it would wind me up further. But I let her do it, as it cheered me up.

A loud, flat thud erupted to my left. I winced with surprise, despite already knowing who and what it was. Tam had returned, a sense of gleeful triumph around her. She was not empty handed either. She had shot three small deer-like creatures, their coats a glistening white in the sun. They had rather impressive antlers in a twisted shape, and I couldn't help but compare them to Tam's own small horns. I frowned to myself, thinking that is was cannibalism of a sort for her to eat such a creature. Which was rather rude of me.

"What did I miss?" Tam said as we stared, oblivious to the startling progress we had made in figuring it all out.

* * *

 _AUTHOR'S NOTE:_

 _So, another secret revealed!_

 _Another chapter from what I had planned to be a relatively small one, but turned out to be an 11,000 word monster, not including the last chapter. It's *very* hard to edit chapters of that length, so there'll be another chapter out soon._

 _Might turn this from Teen to Mature. For the obvious reason. Also, the plot might require it. Do tell me if you think that's a good idea._

 _ **5 Coloured Walker:** The stories might not be the same genre, but they still move others off the first page._

 _ **ThatBlueScreenGuy:** Good people are capable of being rude, mean, cruel etc etc. Besides, I think it made it pretty clear that Sam didn't *really* mind being tackled by Tam. Given her attire. _

_**KiraReaper:** It's just Tam who has a lack of awareness about personal space really. Julie just exploited it. The reason why is fairly obvious in the next chapter._

 _ **Judy:** Thanks as always._


	8. Chapter 8: Inquiries

**Chapter Eight: Inquiries**

Taking the time to explain what we had found out took a long time, and was more than a little risky.

Tam, being herself, did not take our word entirely for anything we said. Or maybe she just wanted to participate. At any rate, Julie was forced to read out some of the captions from the picture book to prove she could understand the Latin alphabet. After each reading, the Qunari would turn to me for confirmation, and I would give it. I can't deny that I enjoyed sitting and watching it. They proceeded through about half the book before everyone was satisfied. It was strangely comforting, seeing someone read something that I myself could. Made me feel a little less homesick.

The next thing was less pleasant. Tam demanded that Armen shoot some lightning at me to prove the concept that I was near-entirely resistant to magic. So I found myself stood up against the cliff, as if a man facing a firing squad, while the mage stood twenty or thirty yards away. Sure enough, when his staff spun a web of lightning at me, the electricity had no effect. It didn't even touch my body or equipment, in fact. With the demonstration over, Tam accepted it after a moment. She came over and pinched me a little, as if trying to make sure the lightning didn't have some internal effect. Getting too close as usual in the process. I got the impression it was a little more than scientific concern.

With those matters settled, the Qunari soon got to skinning her kills without fanfare. The others went off to find more firewood, as we had enough to warm ourselves but nowhere near enough to cook something the size of a deer. I was somewhat fearful that Julie would run into trouble out there, even with Armen, as fists against dragonlings wouldn't really cut it. I really need not have bothered myself. Regardless, I got on with the task of preparing our little camp for the night with some trepidation.

* * *

Dinner was extremely eventful indeed.

First of all, I managed to get the electrical machinery and lights working, so we had no reason to fear the sun setting. The principle is exactly the same as my flashlight but on a larger scale, so the flickering orange flames of the cooking fire were joined by the white beams associated with the alchemy of my world. I was very pleased with my handiwork. Any animal that wandered across our path would have been scared off by the unnatural luminescence, and any people that came along would hopefully think we were extremely powerful mages and take the better part of valour. The batteries wouldn't last forever, but I didn't plan on sticking around. My other companions took the new technology in their stride. Two had already seen something similar, and Armen was Armen, an elf far more inclined towards curiosity than surprise when encountering a new phenomenon. Most of the other functions, like radio communication, were down.

Tam grilled the animals, which all the others agreed were called halla. The Qunari hummed happily as she did so, catching some of the juices in a bowl as they dripped off and turning the meat on a wooden spit that she had fashioned. Watching her do this was an utterly surreal experience. It reminded me of my mother, whom also liked to hum when she cooked. Though she wasn't over six feet high, muscular or curvy..

I had previously pegged Tam squarely as some sort of assassin. After all, her bow and dagger were at her side at all times, and she was no amateur at using them. Not to mention her nation's obvious need for such people. But at that moment, she sang to herself and attended to the food, and I doubted my assessment. Julie seemed surprised that the Qunari sang at all, and inquired what song it was. Tam replied simply that "it was a cooking song." Nothing is used frivolously under the Qun, not even music, apparently.

Julie had found a book to read, and stuck to it as she sat in my seat in the helicopter. I didn't see which one she had selected at the time, but I guarantee that given the questions she would ask later, it was the work of Rousseau or Thomas Paine. Heavy stuff in more ways than just difficulty of reading. For the moment however, she interchanged her attention between the pages and the sky, mumbling words to herself like she was trying to figure something out. A couple of times an hour, she consulted a history book. She seemed very happy, so I was quite content to leave her to it.

As we neared the time to eat, I called Armen over to help me with the sleeping bags. The scratchy, thin blankets we had stolen from the prison seemed extremely inadequate for anything other than covering the ground. We had more than half a dozen of the sleeping bags from my world, which were extremely comfortable and could even double as a hammock with the right fiddling. Armen and I took two a piece, and began laying them out. Wherein we found another, more pleasant surprise.

The rolled up bags had things stuck into the middle of them. An assortment of gifts from the gods. I had missed them entirely, not thinking to look there when I had searched for useful things days earlier.

"What is all this?" asked Armen, as he unrolled one himself, "Is this alcohol?"

"It most certainly is!" I declared, snatching up a bottle, "Not bad stuff either. Fraser must be in hell though... a Scot drinking Tennessee whiskey? No way he's in paradise." I unscrewed the top on the container of warm orange liquid and smelt it, recoiling from the familiar aroma with a laugh. It was a good thing I hadn't discovered the booze before my capture by Goldie, or I would have drank myself to death. I certainly wouldn't have been coherent enough to give a false identity and probably would have ended up with several swords through my face. No matter, I intended to thoroughly enjoy myself.

Armen held up a drink himself, a clear liquid in a fogged glass bottle.

"If that is whiskey, what is this?" he asked, attempting to open the top himself.

"The water of life; Vodka," I said, "Unfortunately, that particular brand is French."

"French?" inquired the elf, smiling now, "Is that a bad thing?"

"You would call it Orlesian," I replied, "And for vodka, yes, it is bad. Wine or cognac, it's a different story."

"Intriguing," Armen muttered. He poured himself a small measure into a metal cup, and in proper form, drank it back in a single gulp. I was surprised at his enthusiasm, but it sent him coughing and my fine self laughing loudly. He held his drink well though, and poured himself another measure with a grin.

There were several large bottles of pretty hard liquor wrapped up in the other sleeping bags, along with other leisure items, which will become obvious soon enough. I passed my own cup over to Armen to fill, and we knocked them together before downing the vodka. The alcohol burned my mouth, throat and stomach, but I felt immensely uplifted for it.

"Why were the bottles wrapped up in sleeping bags?" Armen asked, as he poured our next round. He held the cup out to me, and I took it, determined to drink this one a little more slowly.

"The religion of the country we were in prohibited alcohol," I explained, "But soldiers always find a way."

"A strange rule," Tam said from behind me, "May I?"

I tapped my hand on the sleeping bag beside, and Tam lay down on it. I handed her my drink, and she copied Armen's glorious example, gulping it down at once. She exhaled sharply as she put the empty vessel down, and blinked rapidly for a second. I was very curious as to her verdict.

"Strong, tastes bad, but is easy to drink," she said finally, eyeing her cup, "Why would anyone make such a drink?"

"To get drunk, of course," I said, "Besides, most people mix it with fruit juice or sodas." Though you wouldn't catch me doing that to anything of the quality we had on hand that night. In fact, doing so in front of me would have earned a rebuke.

"How is being drunk a useful thing?" asked Tam, innocently enough. I was completely exasperated by the question, to be honest, unable to even begin to answer it. I couldn't tell if she was pulling my leg or if she was actually serious. I still don't know, having seen a Qunari Ben-Hassrath drink like a fish and others remain entirely teetotal. Their rules are confusing, and I am not about to ask them a question on the subject. I was so caught up in the question that I had failed to hear the tapping of boots on the metal ramp nearby.

"Because it's fun," interrupted Julie, stomping down to join the fun, "You ignore the little details and do what you feel." She sat down close beside, and elbowed me to move over on the sleeping bag. I elbowed her back, then complied. The urge to do a lot more than that swept over me, but I thought better of it. Thankfully.

"And then you throw up," Armen chimed in, taking another sup of vodka.

"Hey, ease up," I said, "We should eat before drinking anymore."

"Not a bad idea," said Julie, supporting me, "Speaking of which, is dinner ready?" She turned a ravenous look at Tam.

The Qunari smiled, not with the daggers-at-dawn one but with a smaller, softer counterpart. Like someone trying to quiet a funny request from a child. It was at once both strange and amusing to see. Tam got up and went back to the fire, as the hungry one got comfortable, happy and unaware of the comparison that had been made in subtle terms.

Julie nudged me, and nodded at the cup. I picked it up and put a shot's worth into it, before handing it to her. I watched closely, as she brought the drink to her lips and swallowed it down. She seemed unaffected by it, licking her lips and then glancing at me. I tilted my head, all respect to her. She could handle her drink too, evidently.

"Good?" I asked.

"Very," she replied, "Though I'll definitely need to eat before having more."

I laughed, and nodded. I already felt the warmth in my veins from what I had drank thus far, any more and I would have been nicely sloshed. Another new experience, getting tipsy on another world. More likely, another universe. Going where no man has gone before, or so I thought. One small sip for a man, one giant chug for humankind. At that moment, such heavy thoughts were nowhere in my head, pushed aside by catching glances at Julie as she did the same to me. Damn it, now I feel old. On with the story.

Tam's cooking turned out to be excellent, though given the care she had taken with it, I had expected as much. The halla 'venison' was stringy and tough, but positively bursting with flavour. Far better than the meat from the rations too. It was not like deer from Earth in terms of the taste, it was more like pork. Needless to say, it became one of my favourite treats. Which put me in trouble once or twice, as going out and shooting a halla is actually laden with troubles to the uninitiated. Just not to Tam.

As with lunch, the others were very full at the end. They lay on their sleeping bags, having moved the secreted contents inside onto the blankets. I was full too, though much more mobile than the others, as I had finally eaten an amount people from back home would recognise as a full meal. So we sat about, drinking. Not very productive, I know, but three of us were celebrating our freedom, so stick your objections where the sun doesn't shine. As we lay about, I dragged the new discoveries over to me and sorted through them. Eleven bottles of liquor were among the most welcome additions to my seemingly endless array of otherworld items. Other things attracted the attention of Tam, however.

The Qunari raked through the random mix, before picking up a chain of colourful wrappers. I almost lost myself immediately from the shock. Apparently someone in Fraser's squad thought he was a real ladies' man, as there was no way one person should have had that many. Tam was now inspecting them with a raised eyebrow. I quickly looked away, having no desire to answer the inevitable question or deal with the outcome if she decided to open one of the wrappers. It's not that I was squeamish about the subject, it's just that explaining the concept would require a few more drinks than I had downed at this point.

"What are these?" Tam asked, shaking the plastic in the air.

The others turned to look, wondering for themselves, as I concentrated on a stone in the opposite direction. I am sure I must have looked like I was having a seizure, trying to suppress my laughing as best I could.

"Rip one open and see," suggested Armen suddenly. I froze dead, before turning around.

"Wait, don't!" I shouted, holding out my hand, "Give it here." The aftermath would have been unpleasant. Couldn't have us smelling like the contents until we found another river or something.

I was just in time. Tam held the first wrapper in her hands, ready to tear it. She took her hand away, and I took the whole chain of the things from her. Unfortunately, this meant that suspicion and curiosity now shifted to me instead, and the question of why I would ask this way was written on all of the faces present. The fucking huge grin on my face probably didn't help matters. I geared myself for it to be spoken.

"So, what are they?" Julie asked, narrowing her eyes, "They must be dangerous, if you're reacting like that." Yes, extremely dangerous in ways you can't imagine, I thought. That wasn't really true though, I just didn't know if the concept would get me burned under the religious rules of where I was at the time. As I couldn't think of any other way to put it, I just came out and said it.

"They're for sex," I said bluntly. The others drew back a little in surprise.

"Really?" asked Armen, his eyebrow disappearing upwards into the black mop of his hair. I swear, it migrated for a moment. The reaction of the others was slightly less reserved.

"What do you mean?" Julie said, confused, "How do they help?" Understandable, given that the things weren't actually unravelled yet.

"Show us!" said Tam pointing, clearly regretting that she had handed them over to me now.

I groaned. Explaining the purpose and function of a contraceptive was not how I thought I'd be spending the aftermath of dinner. I grabbed the bottle of vodka, and began pouring myself a cup. The others held out their own, shaking them to get my attention. I complied, and soon, they were all sipping at the stuff. I prepared myself, taking a drink, and answered.

"They stop people getting pregnant," I said quickly, "Or spreading disease. Most of the time."

The others stared at the wrappers, seemingly intrigued. Julie and Tam glanced at each other, eyes widened a little. Considering that men don't have to give birth, I have discovered that the great majority of interest in such things over the years has come from women. My expectations were defied on that count.

Sexual revolution was not on my agenda, I assure you. Though I have no doubt, given what has happened, that the Chantry would gladly dig up my bones and dump them into the Waking Sea. Hopefully they'll be well hidden from the zealot faction. I felt the conversation tedious at the time, not thinking of the potential effects in the slightest. I think I can safely saying that I prefer doing to talking anyway, where this subject is concerned. Talking usually comes with too much nonsense and superstition.

Armen was the first to respond.

"If your world has no magic, such things would be necessary," he thought aloud, "In the Circles, magic was developed long ago to prevent... that from happening." Of course that would be the first thought that came to him. The Circles were utterly barbaric to a fault, in my opinion, not least because of their wanton destruction of families. It turns out that most didn't even try and start families, for fear of them being torn apart by the rules. I had a small inkling of it from my first meeting with Armen, but the full extent of that destruction was only revealed to me later.

"How do they work?" Julie asked, just when I was mid-drink.

I spluttered, coughing my vodka back up. My eyes watered, as I struggled for breath. The drink had gone down the wrong way. What a question.

As I recovered, I wanted to explain, but it seemed embarrassing beyond belief. Somewhat like trying to explain the facts of life to a child who is really too young to understand. Considering Julie was a grown woman only a few years younger than me at most, this was probably an insulting attitude to take, but the thought occurred to me that simply explaining wouldn't suffice. Especially for her. So I did the next best thing.

I ripped one of the wrappers off from the others, and threw it to Tam.

"Open it from the edge," I said, "Carefully, it's not dry."

The Qunari opened it, ripping the cover off, and revealed the contents. Unperturbed by the liquid coating it, she unravelled the item. The look of confusion on her face was priceless as she held it up. The shape was... unmistakeable.

"It looks like a..." Tam began.

"Yes, it does," I interrupted.

"Ah, so it must go on your..." Julie added, sounding like she was having a eureka moment.

"YES," I said loudly over her, "That's exactly where it goes."

A lot of humming and hawing superseded any further conversation on the subject. I threw Tam a cleaning cloth from a ration pack, and polished off the last of my drink. At least they weren't asking for a more practical demonstration. Evidently, there were no virgins in the group, thank the gods. We didn't have any bananas on hand anyway. Still don't know if they exist here, actually.

Cringeworthy stuff.

"Your world is a strange place," declared Armen, after due consideration.

"Trust me, it's yours that is strange," I replied, tempted to grant him a backhand across the face.

* * *

After dinner, we dug through the other items that had been hidden again.

Among them was a music player, a device capable of remembering thousands of songs and playing them back at command. Somewhat like a record player, but far more complicated. Putting aside how it works, as this is not a technical manual, I managed to get it hooked up to some equipment in the helicopter. There was more than enough power for it to work. The music played loudly, as if we were in a tavern. I bet tavern players everywhere curse my name in private, even the ones who sing songs about what they think is my life. Technology often pushes some people out of work, though I always found live music to be superior.

So I watched my first sunset in Thedas to the sounds of Earth.

Don McLean's _American Pie_ , to be exact. I was surprised to find the song was on the player, most of them were unfamiliar to me. Thankfully there were also plenty of others that weren't. I should have seen other sunsets before this, but had spent them trussed up first in a covered wagon and then in a prison instead. So I was quite pleased with myself to say the least. I was convinced I would be going home soon, and that I had made good progress towards that end. Magic be damned.

The reaction of my companions to this was not speechless amazement, funnily enough. They had become as jaded to revelations about my world as I had to the same of theirs. Or maybe it was just the freeflowing alcohol. We'll never know.

"What is this song about?" said Julie, leaning on me as the song continued into its second chorus.

"I have no idea," I replied.

"The music of your country is very complex," said Tam, "What purpose does it have?"

"Purpose?" I said, not taking her meaning fully, "We use it to relax, mostly. Sometimes tell stories. You don't have music where you're from?"

"Under the Qun, music is played and songs sung to encourage people during practical activities," Tam replied, "So, when soldiers march, they'll sing a marching song or a band will play one. Communal cooks will sing a cooking song together. Farmers ploughing a field will sing a field song. We determined long ago that such a thing helps people work harder and feel better about doing it."

I couldn't argue with that. The evaluation was dead right. Music could make you work harder. Though I thought it a bit stale for an entire society to enjoy it only as accompaniment to hard slogging. Which brought me to a question.

"Do your people not relax?" I asked, "You know, use time off work for their own leisure."

"They rest," confirmed Tam, "But there is no time for leisure. People might starve, or be attacked, or stray from the Qun, and such things require wasting resources that the Qunari aren't pleased to waste."

"Soul-crushing," Julie replied, punctuating her sentence with a swig, "How does anyone stand it?"

"Most are born into it," said Tam softly, "The converts are mostly freed slaves looking for any way out of their misery, so they accept it with open arms. The rest face being turned into a mindless drone by the elder tamassrans, becoming mentally incapable of rebellion or independent thought."

"That sounds fucking horrible," I said, my blood getting up a little, "Unspeakably evil."

"I agree," Tam replied. She drank from her cup, and did not elaborate on it. Which frustrated me a little. She seemed to be remembering something, staring at the fire as it flickered and burned.

An idea occurred to me. I didn't know very much at all about the background of the people I was travelling with. I knew they were good people at the very least, my instincts being razor sharp with regard to that. But that wasn't really enough. I had to know more.

* * *

How best to get them talking about themselves was a moment of genius on my part. One that continues today as a national tradition, to my immense pride. There's even a book of etiquette for it, though who knows who wrote it. I often suspect it was Armen's work, as he was always scribbling something anonymously. It would be hilarious if true.

"I really don't know enough about any of you," I said, "We have good music, drink, some free time. Let's play a game, to get to know each other a little better."

"Sounds good to me," Julie said, with a stretch which I enjoyed thoroughly.

Tam remained silent, but didn't object either. To be honest, I thought that she would, so I was pleasantly surprised. But she wasn't the person I thought would believe it to be a bad idea.

"We don't know anything about you either," said Armen, "Why should I let you interrogate me?" The elf had secrets, no doubt, but it wasn't my intention to pry into them. Too much. I had a plan for just such an objection.

"Aha, I thought you'd say that," I said with a smile, "So we'll do it like this. One of us will take questions from the others. He or she can either answer them, or drink. Anyone who asks a question out of turn that isn't directly about the main question, also drinks. That way, I get to learn what not to ask as well as getting to know you. When all of the others have asked their question, then another gets asked. How about it?"

Armen tilted his head back, watching the sky as he thought. He mumbled to himself. I nudged Julie, and indicated with my head. I wanted her support. She got the picture.

"Ah, go on Armen, it'll be fun," she said, her Orlesian tones raised in jest, "You don't have to say anything you don't want to!"

I thought it would help to have someone other than the crazy guy from another world encourage him, but it was to no avail. Armen continued what he was doing, working out something in his head that his lips were only half playing out. I was ready to give up, when Tam spoke.

"Though I personally think he should be questioned as to his intentions," said Tam, "Intimately."

I winced in horror. Tam's distrust of mages was nothing to be trifled with. I feared it was equivalent to the same sort of crap that Armen had to put up with under the Circle. It was, in fact, but that wasn't what he focused on as he returned his gaze to us.

"I'll gladly be intimate with you, if you're gentle!" Armen laughed, "You're a looker, it's undeniable, but I'm not _that_ robust." It was Tam's turn to wince, as the elf chuckled at her discomfort. Hey, you didn't get my memo from before. She is deadly with a dagger. Extremely deadly. I really did wonder if the man was sane. Julie laughed with him, not noticing the Qunari's annoyed expression.

"I hope your good mood means that you'll be participating," I said, stepping in to prevent bloodshed.

"On one condition," Armen replied, "You're going first."

"Done," I said without hesitation, "Here, fill up your drinks."

I held the bottle out and doled out a very generous amount to each of them. I also turned off the music to save power, not knowing if I'd ever be able to recharge the batteries and wanting to keep the lights on as long as possible. I held back on refilling my own cup for the moment, as I had no intention of withholding an answer. Otherwise, I might be too drunk to ask the questions I wanted answers to myself. Besides, I felt I could trust the others not to go yapping about my secrets.

"Okay, so who has the first question?" I asked.

Tam held up her hand. I nodded, knowing she had hers already picked out.

"You say you are not a soldier, but you have weapons and you carry yourself like a warrior," she said, "What are you if not a soldier?"

I had to think about the answer for a minute, as some terms might not be familiar to the audience. And the job was fairly ambiguous in its own right.

"I'm a peacekeeper," I said, "Soldiers fight for countries, peacekeepers serve both their countries and the United Nations, my world's community of nations. We enforce truces and peace agreements, enforce the laws of war, and defend common folk in warzones. Peacekeepers are soldiers, but we're also … nightwatchmen, builders, teachers, smiths, administrators. We take care of everything a country should do, when one can't anymore because of war. The damage wars cause can last for decades, so something has to be done about it. "

"But you still fight?" asked Armen.

"We have very strict rules on when we're allowed to fight," I replied, not mentioning that the rules often put us in harm's way unnecessarily, "But yes, we do face combat."

"So you're like a Grey Warden?" asked Julie, "Defending people from the worst things?"

"I guess so," I said, not sure what a Grey Warden was, "There is no magic in my world, not like here anyway, so the worst you have to fear is some nutjob terrorist wanting to kill you because you believe something different or because you come from somewhere else."

"Sounds like a difficult job," Armen said.

"It is, but someone has to do it or else civilisation crumbles," I replied, not wanting to get into too much detail, "You want to ask the next question?"

"Mine is related to the one that has already been asked," Armen said, diving right in, "I don't understand your reasons for not allowing me to bring the knowledge about your weapons back to the rebellion. You said our cause was just and its your job to help people in a war, but you won't help us. Why?"

I sighed loudly. I was unprepared for that question. And I knew that answer would inevitably make me sound like a condescending prick. Still, the mage deserved a response, so I gave him one.

"Short answer is that I don't give you the guns because it would get a whole load of people killed that didn't need to be," I said.

"The Templars imprisoned us for centuries," he said, "Are we not entitled to defend ourselves?"

"That's not the problem," I said, "I presume when your armies fight, you line up nice and neat, then charge at each other after shooting arrows and magic, right? Maybe your nobles duel it out sometimes?"

"Yes, most armies fight like that," answered Tam, "Though only the Qunari maintain discipline for long enough to keep in line for battle."

"Right, so imagine armies lining up, except now one side have weapons like mine," I said, "It would be a slaughter. Survivors would go and try to figure out the weapons, and eventually, you'd have two or more factions with them. More slaughter. Entire wars would be fought on the basis of dumb ass nobles thinking they had a great advantage. Yet more slaughter. That's what happened in my world."

I took a breath. I was losing my cool.

"All the while, no one has any idea about how to use tactics worthy of the name, maximising the number of casualties in combat. I doubt that medicine or logistics are worth shit here either, so people will die of injuries and hunger they could avoided too. Bottom line, your societies and militaries are too primitive to hand weapons over like they're toys. I would be committing a crime if I gave them over."

I finished my rant, and drank deeply from my cup. The question pissed me off a little.

"He has a point about the weapons," Tam said, "The Qunari invaded the mainland of Thedas not only because we felt we were duty bound to spread the Qun, but also because our gaatlok devices were so much more powerful. If Tevinter or Orlais had the knowledge, it would lead to more wars. They'd try to conquer their neighbours."

Armen looked unhappy, which made me feel a little guilty. He wasn't wrong about his people being downtrodden. I would have done almost anything to help him out. But arming the mages would be starting a global arms race was step one to a world war I wanted no part in. I determined to do my utmost otherwise.

"I'm sorry for asking," said the mage.

"Listen, when we get settled, we'll figure something else out," I replied, "There has to be other ways I can help other than fighting the war for you. I promise I will do _something_ that will save some of your people." By which I meant I would put in a report to my superiors, maybe take some refugees with me. Which wasn't what happened.

He perked up a little at the promise though. "I hope so," he said.

I felt we needed a breath of air before continuing. The fire was beginning to die, so I got up. I stumbled a bit, buzzing off the alcohol, I managed to get away clean to dump more wood onto the embers for Armen to ignite.

I sat down again, poured another round, and turned to Julie. It was her turn.

"Right, my turn," she said, as if to confirm it, "Do you have any family and friends back home that are missing you?"

"Good question," I smiled, "I have my parents, obviously. They should be both still alive. They have probably been told that I'm missing by now, so I hope they're not doing too badly. They always knew it was a risk, with my job. Apart from them, I have an older brother and sister, and six nephews and nieces."

"Do they do what you do?" Julie asked.

"God, no. My brother, Kevin, he's a banker. Very boring job in my opinion, but a lot of money in it. Which is probably how he can afford to have five kids. He got married young... well, young for our country, anyway." I had assumed correctly that people got married a lot younger in Thedas. Which is less true than it was, but still. I continued.

"As for my sister, Catherine, she's a merchant of sorts. Sells devices that turn sunlight and heat into electricity to power convenient things like the lights we have here or water-heating devices. Her daughter is called Sam too, so obviously that's my favourite niece." Little Sam was the most feisty out of the lot, which only added to my affection for her. I, obviously, am Big Sam. My companions seem entrapped by my story, for their own reasons that I couldn't fathom.

Thinking about it now as I write, I wonder how my siblings and their children are doing. It's been so long, that my siblings are probably grandparents or great-grandparents by now. I'm sure that if Earth didn't tear itself apart with wars, that they're doing fine in their own way. My parents are of course certainly dead. Of course, back then, I thought I would be seeing them within weeks or months, tops. Which made the next question hit hard.

"Aren't you afraid that you won't see them again?" Armen asked, "This doesn't count as another question, by the way."

I rolled my eyes. "Yes it does. Drink!" I said, "As for the answer, we don't leave people behind in warzones. They'll figure out what happened. I am sure someone will come for me." I wasn't sure at all, but a helicopter simply dropping off the face of the Earth without a trace didn't happen much. At least, not when flying over land. Armen drank his cup dry, and I handed him the bottle to refill it. Rules are rules.

"Do you not have children of your own?" Tam asked, "You seem healthy, capable, but you're older than the age when most start breeding." Breeding, she said. What am I, a horse?

"Hey, I'm still in my twenties!" Just barely, at that point. Thirty was approaching rapidly by the month, less than half a year away. Plenty of time left for child-making, at least to an Earthling. Not so much to a Thedosian of that era.

"Most commoners start having children when they're fifteen or sixteen, give or take," Armen explained, "Without the intervention of magical healing, most die before reaching their fifth year too."

"Maker forbid you don't take the first offer of marriage thrown at you either," Julie threw in, before drinking deeply, "The men start thinking you're mistress material, and the women think you're a whore."

"Orlais," muttered Tam, "How does it survive..."

"No, I don't have children," I replied at last, over the next response from Armen, "We have children later because our lives are longer. We don't rely on magic to heal us or cure disease. We have medicine instead, created by science."

"Do you know anything about these medicines?" Armen asked.

"Not a clue," I replied, "Don't think any of the books have anything about them either." Which didn't turn out to be a great burden, as the scientific method did come through. I half-remember a metaphor, something about teaching fishermen, but I forget the details now. Either way, it was probably easier to do what we did, than to try and copy pharmaceutical knowledge from my world.

My turn came to an end, and we decided to go to the person to the right. So it was Julie's turn to answer or drink.

I had to go first, because I had a burning question in my head about something, much like how Tam had one for me. Well, I had several burning questions in actuality, but most of them weren't suitable for a public questionnaire, far more properly asked in the bedchamber. Of the seven deadly sins, Lust is definitely on my list. Good thing I'm immune to Fade crap, or I would have fallen to a desire demon long ago. I asked Julie as she leaned her head on my shoulder, listening with interest.

"What do you do for a living?" I asked.

"You don't know?" she replied in surprise, "I thought you would have guessed by now."

"That's not an answer," I replied coyly, tapping the top of her cup lightly as a warning of what would come. She swatted away my hand, and drank a little, taking her punishment for violating the law of the campfire.

"I'm surprised you asked as well," Tam added, "Isn't it obvious?"

Beginning to get a feeling that I was out of some loop, I looked at Armen and raised my eyebrows. He shook his head and shrugged, seemingly as clueless as I was. I had thought the mage would know more, but apparently being locked in a tower for most of your life doesn't give you much insight into the working person.

Julie stood up, wobbling a little from the drink, and raised her cup in mock salutation.

"I, good ser, am a blacksmith!" she declared proudly, before downing the rest of her drink. Eyes turned to me for a reaction, but mine kept on hers. I couldn't make out what she was thinking.

I knew she was a tradesperson of some kind. Her hands were not as rough as mine but not soft, she had a toolbelt, and she seemed to be well-fed compared to what I thought of as a peasant. Far better teeth too. I remembered the dirt that was on her face originally, when we had first met. It was actually soot, not mud.

"Ahhh," I said in realisation of the latter fact, "That explains a lot."

Julie plonked down beside me, landing on her backside and poking a finger at me.

"What does that mean?" she said sweetly.

"It means I knew you weren't a noblewoman," I replied, "Despite your obvious grace and wit." Laying it on with a trowel now to avoid offence, I was.

"Is that a problem?" she replied, in mock-outrage.

"Not even slightly," I said with a smile.

Julie paused and watched me for a moment, deciding if I was being serious. I tried to keep a straight face, but failed. As I had realised that her surname translated as "hammer" in Orlesian. I found that pretty funny. The woman herself seemed fine with it.

"Aww, you pass," she said. She straightened up and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I breathed a sigh of relief, pleased I had avoided her ire. With a grin, I returned my attention to the others.

"Good," I said, "Who's next?"

"I believe I am," Armen said, "Madamoiselle Marteau, do you agree with the Chantry on mages?" Jesus, the elf could be a hardass sometimes. He softened up over the course of our association, but at this point, he was still on-mission.

Julie locked her eyes on him. Her contempt for the inquiry was obvious. She was and is Andrastian to her core, albeit in a way people in my world would call a Protestant. However, she thought better of making hostility over the issue. She could understand Armen's position. So, rather than punch the fellow, which I'm sure she considered, she smiled. She refilled her cup, and downed it. The question was refused. We would have to wait until later to see what her opinion on the Rebellion was.

"I guess that answers that," I said.

"She had the right," Armen said, "I'm glad to see that it can be exercised."

I nodded. "Tam, your turn."

The Qunari frowned for a moment. She hadn't prepared a question for Julie. Her eyes went to me, not searching for a suggestion but considering something. Her head swivelled to Armen for a split second too, before her thoughts coalesced into an idea.

"Hunt and the mage can fight, that much is obvious. One has firelances and looks like he could swing a sword, the other has magic," Tam said, "You look like you could fight too, but can you?"

Count on the Qunari to consider the practicals. She seemed to be following me because I was strong, or my country was. It made sense that she'd wonder about her other travelling companions. I could not in fact swing a sword, however. Not part of my training to say the least.

Julie snorted her amusement at the Qunari's doubts.

"I live outside the walls. Have to. Blacksmith, remember?" she said, "Of course I can fight."

"What's your preferred weapon?" asked Tam.

"Warhammer," replied Julie without hesitation, "Never really used a bow, but I can swing metal around easily enough. Always have to fight off wildlife, and bandits on occasion, until the guard arrive." I chuckled at that. Because of her surname.

Tam nodded in response, satisfied at the answer. To be honest, I found it very easy to imagine Julie hefting a sledgehammer into some poor idiot voyeur as she bathed in a river. Shows my state of mind, I guess. Of course, the image I had in my head was all wrong. She had armour too, which I would see in due course, and I doubt she would have worn it to bathe.

"We'll have to find you one for the road," Armen said, "We have another two days to go."

"Yeah, about that," Julie replied, "If we're going to take all of Sam's weapons, it'll be more like a week before we get there. One horse pulling all that weight..."

I hadn't considered that. I was too used to the vehicles of my own world to do so in the first place. A week on the road opened up new dangers, including a higher risk of being caught by the authorities. Then again, I had my weapons. I could just lay waste to any mask-wearer who got in my way. Not the most subtle solution, but Orlais' big words about subtlety are exaggerated in the first place.

"You have more weapons?" Tam asked me. Before drinking, obeying the rules of the game. Like I said, it's catchy.

"Yeah, a whole cave full of them," I replied, "Along with some armour, explosives, helmets, and plenty of ammunition. I could storm that big palace back in Halamshiral single-handed if I needed to." I probably shouldn't have told them that. But I was drunk.

"Can we see them?" asked Armen, smiling.

"Sure, don't see why not," I said, "In the morning though."

"I'll hold you to it," the mage replied, saluting me with his cup.

"Your turn, mage," Tam said, her smile turning to its murderous streak as she pointed at him.

"What do you want to ask?" he said, returning the gesture.

"Your life as a mage seems soft by comparison to what your kind suffer under the Qun," she asked, "I'd like to know more."

Armen inclined his head, agreeing to the request. I thought he would blast her with lightning for asking such a thing. People rarely like to be reminded of their hardships, former or otherwise. The elf was a level-headed sort, so he just drank and set down his cup, ready to speak.

"If you're born a mage, you're taken to a Circle of Magi when you're still a child. If you're a noble, you lose all titles and land claims, but nobles and commoners are separated from their families regardless of rank," he began.

"It's the same under the Qun," Tam muttered in interruption, "What happens then?"

"The children are raised as part of the Circle. What Julie said by the river is right, they are educated and taken care of. We don't starve in the towers, usually. Sometimes the Templars wouldn't feed us as a punishment. When the children are old enough, their blood is taken so that they can be tracked at all times and they undergo a test to see if they can be possessed by a demon. If they fail, they are made Tranquil, robbed of all emotion by force."

"How?" I asked, "How do they take that from a person?" I was not inquiring as to the method, but Armen took it as such.

"It involves a lyrium brand, but as with many things, it is extremely difficult to explain to a non-mage," he replied, "Especially to someone from a world without magic."

I conceded the point, as Tam shifted her weight.

"I was right, you did have a soft life," she said, "Our saarebas are chained and lashed, watched by specially trained soldiers at every moment, their tongues cut out or their lips sewn together if they so much as speak wrongly."

"Perhaps we did have a soft life, compared to the Qunari," Armen said, "But that life is over. And, the ordinary person in Orlais probably lives a soft life compared to their counterpart in Par Vollen. If the Qun is the standard to measure against, almost everyone except a slave in Tevinter has a soft life."

"To the Fade with the Qun," declared Julie, "It's no different to slavery anyway."

"You're right, it is no different," Tam said, agreeing, "But given the dangers of letting mages roam around, I am not so sure that they can be allowed to have a soft life."

"They're people, same as anyone else," I said to that, "They deserve every opportunity to live their lives peacefully, because everyone does. Separate them, make them some strange thing that isn't really part of your society, and they'll rebel against it. Whether it's the Tevinter guys ruling over non-magic folks, or Circle whatdoyoucallems rebelling and blowing up stuff. The problem is the same. You're separating them, rather than treating them like people."

"Exactly," said Armen, very pleased I had went on a monologue, "I doubt the Qunari abuse their mages for their own personal pleasures or out of spite."

Tam looked annoyed for a second, before breathing out. It looks like the elf had scored a point against her prejudice. "No, such behaviour is punished if discovered, and it is not common. Mages may be dangerous, but they are useful. Misusing them in such a manner would be idiocy. They are also revered, as they struggle most to live within the Qun."

"That's what happened in the Circles. Beatings, abuse, rapes, murder covered up with excuses about blood magic, the kidnapping of children from their parents regardless of whether or not they had magic potential. Did you know that some of the very Templars that guard us were the kidnapped children of Circle mages? Brought up to hate and fear what their parents were."

I couldn't help but flinch at that. I knew I wasn't getting the whole story from Armen, he was after all a partisan in a conflict where the Templars were the enemy. However, if there was even a grain of truth in his claims, it made me very eager to get the hell out of Thedas.

"I didn't know that..." muttered Julie. Of course she didn't, why would the Chantry advertise its corruption to an ordinary believer. Or what they thought was an ordinary believer, rather.

"That is sick," I said, feeling nauseous at the very thought. It sounded like something the death cult I had been fighting would do, kidnapping children to turn them into warriors of God.

"Yes, it is," said Armen, "So that's the life I've had until about a year ago, when Kirkwall's Circle rebelled. I wish I could say I was enjoying my freedom and I have, but it's been a lot of work."

I saw my chance to ask about what I had been thinking about since that morning when I had met him.

"Speaking of work," I interjected, "My question is this: What were you doing in Halamshiral that forced you to be smuggled out in a fruit crate?"

Armen gathered his robes close to him, and grimaced, thinking about his answer. His eyes watched the fire for a moment, before looking up mischievously at me. Slowly, he raised his cup, and drank from it. I threw my arms up in complaint, as he tipped the last of the vodka into his mouth and put the cup down.

"Ah, come on!" I said in frustration, "You climbed out a crate after we watched something explode. You won't tell us if it was you?"

Armen glanced to the heavens for a moment, and then back to me. He was getting drunk, I could tell, as we all were. And it was about to loosen his tongue.

"Actually, that explosion was your fault," he said, waving his finger between all three of us, "I can say that much."

"Wait, what?" asked Julie, "How? It was obviously a magical... thing."

A magical thing indeed. Sending a plume of near-blinding light into the sky would have to be. Well, I could build a weapon that would be more powerful and it wouldn't be magic. But I'd be dooming the world if I did. The people of Thedas still aren't mature enough for nukes, to say the least.

"You burned down the prison," Armen explained, "The Circle mages in the Tower took it as a signal that the Templars were about to annul them. The Grand-Enchanter had sent word to look out for something like that as a warning."

"Annul them?" I asked, "Does that mean what I think it does?"

"If you're thinking it means kill every mage in the place, down to the last child, then yes," Armen replied, "Though you probably did them a favour. The Templars seem to be becoming more and more lawless with every passing day. Even the Divine is troubled, or so goes the word."

"The succession probably isn't helping things," said Julie, "Nobles always find the best time to squabble. Not that mages are more trustworthy, no offence Armen."

"None given, none taken," he said, "Fear is understandable for both sides. Mages and the common person have been forcibly separated for centuries."

Except one side used to be able to blast the other to smithereens without fear of retaliation from anything but Templars. Whoever came up with that arrangement was a moron, to say the least. I haven't ever bothered to find out who is responsible, but I doubt Andraste would have been amused to see how things developed. I certainly wasn't.

"So, what you're saying is... I've already struck my first blow for the Mage Rebellion?" I asked.

"Inadvertently, yes," said Armen with a wink, "Welcome to the cause, brother."

"Well, shit," I said, before taking a deep drink. I already felt pretty drunk, but I needed more after hearing those words.

I hadn't considered the explosion's implications for my own situation. Even if our escape had nothing to do with what happened in the Circle Tower that night, our disappearance coincided perfectly with the events. Our involvement, or mine at least, would be suspected. Eventually, someone would try to track us down. I doubted that anyone believed we died in the fire I had started in the records room.

Thankfully, because I had taken the time to destroy just that very room, it would be days or weeks before they figured out enough to come back to the crash-site. At which point I planned to be long gone, either safe in Julie's village or directing my countrymen to invade and destroy the bullshit regime I had found here. Perhaps I could avoid further involvement.

"My turn again," said Julie, "We've been talking a lot about how we might not be able to trust you, Armen..."

She stopped and looked at Tam, one eye closed as if she was aiming a crossbow at the Qunari. Probably because it was obvious where most of the objections to the elf's presence came from. I guess everyone was getting pretty intoxicated at this point.

"But how do you know you can trust _us_?" Julie continued, "How do you know that Tam or I won't turn you in to the Templars? They would pay us a handsome reward if we did, too."

The mage grabbed the bottle from Julie, refilled his cup and drank it quickly. He apparently needed no time to think on an answer; he was entirely unwilling to discuss his real reason for following us beyond what he said already. I didn't particularly want to know, because my suspicions were very much raised over his answer to the question before. Madamoiselle Marteau on the other hand was outraged.

"That's two you didn't answer!" Julie said, waving her cup at Armen like she was a prosecutor.

"He's allowed to do that, if he drinks," I said, cutting in, "If he doesn't want to discuss it, that's his choice. It's bad form, but..."

"I don't believe you're the kind of people to throw a man to the wolves," Armen added, "I'd rather not say more than that."

"You're less fun than I thought you'd be," said Julie, crossing her arms, "But I can't force you."

Tam cleared her throat to get our attention. Our heads swung to her, wondering what she intended to say. She sat up straight, or as much as she could given that she was obviously under the influence now. For a woman of her size, she didn't have much tolerance for alcohol. Yet.

"It is your turn to ask me questions," the Qunari said firmly.

We burst out laughing immediately. She was insistent. I was glad that she was enjoying herself, such that it was. Tam had seemed the most uptight of us, at least where idle chatter was concerned. Her enthusiasm was not dampened by our mirth. After a few more seconds of chuckling and giggling, I caught enough breath to speak.

"Okay, I have a question for you," I said, still half laughing, "If you'll hear it."

"I would be happy to," said Tam, her soft smile beaming at me.

"You say you _were_ Tamassran, but what does that mean? Is that your name?"

"No, it's a profession," Tam replied, "Your name given to you at birth is merely a collection of information about your bloodline, what physical traits you possess. They're too long to use everyday, and they are not easy to shorten. Tamrassan is the role I had in the Qun."

"So what did you do?" Julie asked, "Every day, if that was your job."

"Tamassrans guide Qunari society," Tam replied, "I was mostly involved with the raising of children, teaching them of the Qun and practical life skills, as well as nurturing them as children should be. I was also selected to comfort warriors, as I said before, because I am attractive."

She said it all so matter-of-factly that I had no trouble believing it, but it didn't explain her daggerwork or the bow on her back.

"So you were a teacher... mostly?" I said, "With a little bit of courtesan thrown in?"

"No," replied Tam, "Tamassrans select roles for children at the age of twelve, and then shape them for the rest of their lives. Other Qunari would deny it, but we lead society in every meaningful way. We are by far the most honoured of all those under the Qun. Without us, the whole idea would collapse. Caring for children and providing for each other's sexual needs are just two duties on that path. Both are not optional. One turns the next generation into pieces to fit into society. The other is providing for a biological need that cannot be avoided, both for the Tamassran and the warrior. There are other duties."

I wasn't sure if that meant she had a good life before or a bad one. On the one hand, she was clearly in a position of respect and possibly on the path to political power. Perhaps the closest thing to a noble that the Qunari had. On the other, she seemed to be describing systematic sex slavery and the indoctrination of children as her primary duties. I frowned to myself, thinking about the contradiction.

"Do these other duties require a dagger and bow?" Julie asked, clearly referring to how Baldy died.

"All Tamassrans are trained to fight stealthily rather than directly," said Tam, "We are not warriors, but the Qun states that enemies may try to destroy the way by attacking us, so we are to evade and strike from the shadows. We also teach young Qunari warriors their first lessons in combat and how to hunt, so we are required to know how to use blades and bows."

So she was a drill instructor too. I knew I recognised that vicious smile of hers somewhere, and I realised where from. Infantry School. The instructors there were just like Tam in some ways, come to think of it.

"So what else do Tamrassans do, if they're not assassins or soldiers?" I asked.

"Other things. It was not among my duties, but they choose who mates with who, to create the most useful children," Tam started. Great, add eugenics to the list of reasons the Qun sucks.

"Ah, wait!" said Julie, "That brings me to my question."

"By all means," smiled Tam.

"I heard that the Qunari don't have families," Julie said, "Is that true?" I raised an eyebrow at that. It was a good question. How does a society survive without families as the most basic grouping of people?

"Yes," said Tam. An awkward pause came after, as the two stared at each other.

"So... how does that work?" Julie continued.

"Children are born and raised together in units," Tam said.

"Away from their parents?" asked Armen, finally finding something to say. The question was obviously motivated by what he had said about the children of Circle mages. I felt somewhat sorry for him.

"Yes, Tamassrans raise the children," Tam stated with some pride, "We receive ten children each on our twentieth birthday, after eight years of instruction. Some of the younger tamassrans help us raise them, learning from us as we learned from our own elders. There are also wet-nurses for when the children are too young. I spent twelve years with my first group, it was very satisfying to see how they all turned out. I'm sure they're all still serving dutifully, which is less pleasing now that I have abandoned the way."

Tam definitely had the air of a mother about her now, speaking about her charges as if they were her own. I shuddered a little at how powerful an ideology her nation must live under, if it can produce that sort of effect. Though it was exploiting a natural instinct, I couldn't help but think it wrong. I wondered for a moment if Tam had children. I would get my answer soon enough.

"You talk about it as if you were happy," said Julie, smiling a little now.

"I was," Tam responded, "I had purpose."

"Why did you leave then?" asked Armen, "Or were you forced out?"

Tam looked at the elf like he had just released a bad smell. Touchy subject, I guess, but the Qunari was not a cowardly or secretive type. Her upbringing precluded either trait in her, I guessed.

"Is that your question?" she asked. Armen nodded.

Tam took a drink, steeling herself before answering. I lay down and got comfortable, knowing it would be a good story. It was. Julie followed in front of me, leaning her head on the rolled up spare blanket I had been using as a pillow.

"I lived most of my life in Par Vollen. There, the Qun is very much secure and there are no troubles. After I had finished caring my first... batch of children for twelve years, I hoped and expected to be assigned another group. At worst, I thought I would be promoted to oversee such things, as I had been praised for my competence in these matters. But it was not to be."

"What happened?" asked Julie at a half-whisper.

"I was sent to Seheron," Tam said, before turning to me, "It's an island between the Qunari and the Tevinter Imperium. We control much of it, but it remains a battlefield. Fighting between my people, the 'vints and the local rebels is fierce."

"Why would you be sent there?" I asked, as she had said she was not a warrior.

"Children are born there too, of course," said Tam, "But that was not to be my duty there."

"What was?" asked Armen.

"Helping to educate the bas, the unbelievers whom we had captured or forced to surrender. Some elder tamassrans had decided that I was a candidate to be rasaan, a successor to the high priestess and an ambassador who cures persistent unbelievers with qamek. It burns out the mind of the victim until even mages are fit for nothing more than physical labour, worse than your Tranquils. I was sent to observe these rituals, to prepare myself to carry them out. They were testing me."

"And you objected to that?" said Julie, sure that the Qunari had.

"Not at first," Tam replied, "Most of the people we dealt with were... savage. People who had surrendered after burning villages or poisoning wells. I could not care for them, I only saw people who would try and kill the children I had raised."

"Until you met one that didn't seem like that," I said.

"Yes. She was a Tevinter mage, not very high ranked but had been forced to fight due to some obligation to a higher noble house," Tam said, "She had surrendered without a fight when the others had died in an ambush. We tried and tried to convert her, but she knew how we treated mages. She just wanted to flee to the southern lands. We would not let her. I was forced to administer the qamek that time. I fled the Qunari that very night, haunted by a nightmare of her doing to me what I had done. I followed her plan, fled south."

"Don't the Qunari have ways of treating such problems?" Armen said, "Shouldn't you have gone to your fellows?"

"I could have gone to the Ben-Hassrath, but my faith in the way of the Qun had been shaken," said Tam, "They would have attempted to re-educate me, but I would have had to take qamek too, which was what I feared more than anything."

"How did you escape?" asked Julie, "Seheron is a long way from here."

"I surrendered to Tevinter with the personal effects of their mage," said Tam, "They considered enslaving me, a situation I believed I could escape more easily, but in the end they gave me back my weapons and put me on a boat to Antiva. There are many Tal'Vashoth there, I think they meant to spread my story to curry resentment against the Qunari. From there, I moved south as quickly as I could, as far from the reach of either the Imperium or the Ben-Hassrath as I could get."

"Which is why you are so interested in the power of my country," I said, connecting the dots, "Your people couldn't possibly take you from me and mine, we'd put them to the sword."

"It is not just that," said Tam, "Your country is intriguing. Almost the exact opposite to my own, yet it is powerful and obviously wealthy. I want to know how it works."

"Then you should read those books," said Julie, thumbing over her shoulder and my side to the helicopter, "Some of them describe how his country works."

"Perhaps I shall," said Tam, "With your permission."

"No need to ask on my account," I replied, "Go right ahead."

Julie yawned loudly uncontrollably, which set me off doing the same. I checked my watch, and found that it was pretty late. I looked around and discovered that it was pitch black outside the beams of the artificial lights and the flicker of the fire.

There were two moons in the sky too, which I just found to incredible to believe.

"I am drunk," I said, "I'm seeing two moons."

"There are always two moons," said Armen, smirking.

"Oh, right, not Earth," I said, "Time to sleep then, I think."

* * *

 _AUTHOR'S NOTE:_

 _Well, so much for editing things down... I managed to add another two or three thousand words to this, pushing it well over the 10,000 word mark. Thus making it even harder to edit..._

 _The next chapter will be entitled "Shrubberies"._

 _Changed the rating to M. Regular programming will resume on my other stories as of now, which won't interfere too much with this._

 _Thank you to whoever added this story to the "When in Thedas" community, where it joins other glorious stories of Earthlings trapped in the world of Dragon Age._

 _As always, if you read it, review it!_

 _ **KiraReaper:** Mages and more..._

 _ **ThatBlueScreenGuy:** I'm glad you're enjoying it, at least. I welcome all commentary._

 _ **Judy:** I was not even aware that there were moderators on stories, I thought they just looked at comments and such. As reading through an entire story for a violation seems like a lot of work to me._

 _ **Blue Tombstone:** I hope this chapter clears things up a little as to why Mr. Hunt isn't out giving away his guns. Very much appreciate the compliments too!_


	9. Chapter 9: Shrubberies

**Chapter Nine: Shrubberies**

The next lesson I learned about Thedas is that law and order only barely existed, even in Orlais, the largest and most stable country. You would think with all the harsh justice meted out to anyone even simply appearing guilty, that you wouldn't run into anyone nefarious outside of the aristocracy. Such thoughts are entirely wrong. It just means the smart criminals get away at the expense of the dumb ones. Come to think of it, the situation on Earth was pretty similar in that particular respect. Except with our knowledge of the world, you had to be very smart indeed. Regardless, when I arrived, there were no specialised police officers except the occasional town sheriff, who relied entirely on the nobility for extra manpower. There was also no trial by jury, as I had experienced already. Despite Orlais' supposed reputation for imposing order, as opposed to Fereldan's Do-It-Yourself approach to justice, I found the latter to be far more useful in the mean time than the former. Besides, bringing someone to a sheriff when you are probably wanted for treason is not the best idea.

Any otherworlders out there reading this will understand this chapter's name in due course.

* * *

The circumstances of my night's watch and sleep were comfortable indeed.

We had decided to take it in shifts for the watch, and I drew second to last. Which meant I had about three hours of sleep before I had to get up. Considering how drunk I was, it was very easy to get through that, and it was also pretty easy to wake as I was still drunk when my turn to look out for dangers came along. After which I sat next to the remains of the campfire in the pitch black, with my firelance across myself and a pair of goggles that allowed me to see in the dark attached to my forehead. Another irreplaceable technological marvel, I guess, but it meant that nothing would sneak up on us. Nugs wandered around near the camp, so I had to turn the things on every few minutes to see what the noise was. Fox-like things moved about as well, albeit less often as they were well aware that I was there. Fennecs were their name, I found out when I inquired later. I felt at ease for the first time about the wildlife. If such creatures were around, others, such as dragons, likely were not nearby.

The hour and a half went by quickly, and I woke Armen to relieve me for the final and longest shift. Having four and a half hours sleep on him, he was actually the least fresh of us, feeling the early effects of a hangover. He grumbled about this as he took up his position, and I handed him a canteen of water to shut him up. Which was sipped liberally, as I collapsed into the tangle of opened sleeping bags that we had set up inside the helicopter, after pulling off my armour and setting aside my weapon. Again, I had no trouble falling asleep.

I awoke not because of any noise or particular sensation, but because it felt like I was in a sauna. It was damn warm, and I was sweating. Cracking my eyes open, daylight flooded my sight. I found my legs covered with a sleeping bag, Julie draped over my shoulder and Tam in her apparent customary position on my belly. The former had her arm around me, making things worse, while the latter clung to one sleeping bag while laying down on another. Both were in various states of undress, undoubtedly the result of the rise in temperature. Their body heat poured off them and on to me, even through my uniform's undershirt. What a lucky man I was, as easy it is to see in retrospect.

At the time however, I was desperate with thirst.

I was forced to risk the inevitable stab from Tam's horn to drown it. Neither stirred when I gently started to lift them off of me. Julie was easiest, as I just took her arm and placed it at my side. Tam took a little more manoeuvring, as I was forced to wiggle out from under her and put another sleeping bag under her head. Thus, with a good bit of effort, I raised myself away from the sleeping pit. I looked back down at the pair of them, comfortably asleep. Considering the cares heaped upon them, they appeared very peaceful. Despite their previous situation, I sincerely hoped my presence in this world would not end up making things worse for them.

I drank my water greedily, despite it being as nastily warm as the air. As I would be unable to get back to sleep, the space to do so taken up by my two sleeping partners anyway, I put on my combat webbing over my shirt and stepped outside. It was late-morning, as far as I could tell, and there wasn't even a wisp of a breeze. The humidity had risen as well, making matters worse. I had an urge to try and wave the wall of heat away from me, but knew it wouldn't help. Besides, the smell of cooking meat soon wafted in my direction.

Armen was sat looking glum by the rekindled fire, cooking a nug to a crisp. I guessed he was still hungover. His robes were pulled tight around him, and his jaw was clenched as if he was in pain. Unable to stand the sight of him in depression, particularly when I was in such a good mood, I grabbed something from my pack and went to him. The horse looked up from its resting position as I did so, watching us.

"Here, these will help with the headache," I said, holding out two medicinal pills for him, "More Earthling magic."

He took the two wordlessly, examined them in his palm for a moment, then looked up at me. I gave my most reassuring nod, before poking at the nug with a stick. I hoped it wasn't one of the two I had seen before, as he swallowed the painkillers without any water.

"You'll feel better in a few minutes," I added with a yawn.

"Thank you," he replied.

"Not a problem," I said, "Any chance I could have a piece of that?" I pointed at the nug.

"Wasn't planning on eating it all myself anyway," said Armen, turning the meat, "Are you going to show me your weapons?"

I looked at him, not really sure what he was talking about for a moment until I remembered the conversation from the night before. I _had_ promised that, in my drunkenness. I thought about turning him down, fearing that he might be able to figure out some means of replicating the weapons. But, the idea of going back on my word, even my drunken word, didn't sit right with me. Aside from my own dubious honour, I needed him to trust me if we were going to get away to real safety.

I pat him on the shoulder, and stood up. First, I retrieved the machinegun and the precision firelance from the helicopter, and put them beside him.

"Don't touch yet," I said, "These can hurt you."

Armen nodded solemnly, indicating that he understood me despite his curious glances at the things. Satisfied he wasn't going to blow his own head off looking down the barrel of the Minimi, I wandered off to the cave.

Upon entering, I breathed with relief. It was cool inside, gloriously so. The thought occurred to me to grab a blanket and sleeping bag, and decamp to the shelter provided there for another few hours sleep, but I realised we'd need to get moving too soon for that to be an option. With some sadness at the haste we would need to show, I lifted the first metal container off the stack and dragged it out of the cave.

I took it to Armen, opened it up, and took out one of the dozen or so firelances inside. I had to play with the moment, putting on my best dodgy salesman act as I showed him the weapon.

"Introducing the Gewehr 36, from the finest gunsmiths at Heckler and Koch," I said, holding it at shoulder height, "Firing five-five-sixers at a rate of seven hundred rounds a minute, this weapon is perfect for any mage looking to down a pesky Templar platoon from a safe distance. Results guaranteed."

Armen smiled, getting the joke immediately. Merchant pitches are the same in any universe.

"As you can see, the weapon's controls are fully ambidextrous, and it comes with an integrated sight for maximum accuracy," I continued, "Feel the weight. And don't point it at me."

I handed him the weapon. He did as he was told, balancing the thing between his two hands as if weighing it, before grabbing it as he had seen me do with my own example. He looked it over for a minute or two as I sat. Soon, he had figured out the sights, and was aiming downrange at the dragon's skeleton in an impressively competent firing stance. He pulled the trigger, releasing a small click sound, before holding the firelance out again to me. I grinned, able to tell that he was impressed.

"You used these before?" Armen asked, "In your own world?"

"And others like them," I confirmed, "They're very common."

"What about these?" the mage continued, indicating the two unique examples I had, "They seem different."

"They are," I said, picking up the precision device, "This can hit a single man at eight hundred yards, or more if you're very good. That's what the telescope is for on top, see?"

"Can you demonstrate this?" he asked, slyly. A transparent attempt to work out the mechanics of the weapon, in other words.

"I have no doubt you will see me use it before we're done," I replied, "Nice try, though."

"I'm sure you would ask the same if our places were reversed," Armen smirked.

"Absolutely," I said, packing the weapons away again.

* * *

Julie and Tam soon woke up to the smell of the cooking nug. However little myself and Armen were able to eat, the rest soon disappeared into their mouths in short order. Which was fine by me, infatuated idiot that I was. Am. Whatever. I chewed on some snacks from the ration packs we had already opened instead.

Breakfast finished with, we began loading up the cart with the contents of the cave cache. It was no small task, as moving them to the cave was not either. I had them stacked in a way that would make us look more like arms dealers than people from another world. Weapons, ammunition and explosives went on the bottom, because they were the most obviously bizarre things to any uneducated observer. The bulletproof armour and provisions went in the middle, and the crates that were originally on the cart were put on top. The object being to hide the contents below in case someone made a quick search.

Of course, I couldn't help but add yet more cargo to it.

I spent two hours ripping equipment out of the helicopter. Lighting devices, loudspeakers and headphones for playing back sound from the music player or from voice-projecting microphones, devices for controlling the power of electricity and others for generating it from movement. I even took the fire extinguishers and a lot of the wiring. Anything I thought useful, it got ripped out. Normally, there was a beacon that would have given the position of the machine to others, but it was totalled, so I took its power source too. Most of it got put in the huge box that Armen had hid in. I was fielded questions on every last thing I pulled out too, so it took far longer than I thought, but I was happy to answer. By the end, the wagon was almost too heavily packed to carry us as well. Something that would need to be dealt with.

We were almost ready to go, so I called everyone over for a small gift. A rather utilitarian one.

"Here, take these," I said, handing out the bounty. It was a series headsets and radios, the ones that remained intact from the dragon attack. I explained what they were, and briefly how they worked, not needing to explain the really advanced stuff as it was unlikely that it would ever be necessary. The others found this stuff far more interesting than anything else they had seen thus far.

"So we can talk from a distance, without needing to shout..." said Tam, checking if she had heard me correctly.

"As long as that number on the display is the same as everyone else's, yes," I replied, "It works a quarter of a mile away too."

As Tam is wont to do, she ran off at a sprint to the dragon skeleton. The others looked at her in confusion, but I knew what she was at. Once the Qunari had reached her destination, she waved her hand. I activated the radio.

"Can you hear me?" I said, quietly enough so there was no chance of my voice carrying that far. Julie and Armen flinched slightly as my voice filtered through their headset to their ears directly. They weren't the only ones.

"Yes, I can," said Tam, incredulous that it worked even as the radio transmitted her voice into our ears.

"Well, we can hear you too, so come on back," I replied.

Tam jogged back with a thoughtful face. I guess she was thinking about how useful it would be. Armen had a similar visage plastered on. Given what we discovered his new profession was, it is not surprising. Julie skipped that, and began fiddling with the microphone and headseat to make them more comfortable, drawing her hair back so it wouldn't get in the way. At least one of them wasn't stunned by the concept, thankfully.

With that nonsense out of the way, there were two tasks I had to perform before leaving.

First, I went to the graves of Fraser, Patel, and the others, and saluted them, before saying a short prayer for the repose of their souls. It was all I had left to do, where that was concerned.

Second, I got out the marker stylus with which I had marked their graves, and wrote a message on both the inside and outside of the helicopter.

" _Sam Hunt, United Nations Mission for Syria and Iraq (UN-SIFOR). British Army escort and RAF crew dead. Natives likely hostile, but technologically regressed. I have retreated to village of Hearth. Proceed south along nearby road. Evac would be nice._ "

Julie read these words and understood every word. I asked her what she thought.

"Natives hostile?" she asked back with a chuckle.

"The first people I met almost stuck me with swords," I said with a shrug, "Before that, we were attacked by dragons. More importantly, you punched me in the face. Have to warn them."

"Uh huh," said Julie, evidently sceptical.

"It's not like everyone's going to run into beautiful and friendly women out here," I said to both Julie and Tam, eliciting frowns of exasperation. Flattery will get you everywhere, gentlemen. Though she saw through my attempts as the pathetically cheesy silliness that they were.

"Well, I can't deny that," Julie said, glancing at the dragon corpse, "Can we go home now?"

Go home? I wished.

Of course, she meant go to her home. Which would become mine, in time. But first, we had to get there. We returned to the wagon and set out in good spirits, leaving the crash site to the forest. I didn't glance back, confident that I had done all that I could.

* * *

It became clear that the horse was having the worst of the journey after about half an hour. The poor thing's pace dropped off sharply compared with before. The cart itself had also taken to creaking loudly at every pothole or stone it bumped into, of which there were obviously very many. The road was unpaved for most of its course, looking more like a country lane in some places, before turning into a wide stony thoroughfare at others. I hopped off the cart and began walking ahead of it, hoping to relieve some of the weight to allow the horse to pick up the pace. I was well used to marching about and presumed myself to be the heaviest. It seemed ungentlemanly to get any of the others to walk. Particularly when I couldn't drive the cart myself anyway.

So, I strapped on a helmet, donned my armour once again and strode out ahead, armed to the teeth as I was. I was pleased to find that the horse was indeed relieved to a large degree, and it trotted along more happily and at a quicker rate.

The scenery quickly went from forest to a more agricultural landscape. Woodlands made way for fields of crops both short and tall, with the occasional pasture filled with cows or things that would spark a scientific investigation if they showed up in my world. It was the first clue that we were in the hinterland of a settlement. As we walked past the farms, I realised that most of the work in the world was likely to be tied up in them and others like them. Most people would be farm labourers, their heads barely above water. Little better than slaves. I thanked God that I was not born into such a system, that my fore-bearers had the good sense to rebel against it. I had no doubt that Julie thanked the Maker for her trade too, despite her other problems. She is an excellent blacksmith, and would make a poor farm serf. Others were far less fortunate, having to sell themselves.

The journey to Gethran's Crossing, the village we were aiming for, was supposed to take about two or three hours. After that amount of time, we were barely half way there. We came across some people moving about, on the way to some labour or another. They stared as they passed, mostly at Tam and I. There were even less Qunari this far south, and my strange dress probably made me look like a complete idiot. There is, however, a difference between looking like an idiot and being one. We would run into unfortunates who possessed both traits soon enough. For the mean time, I walked through the summer heat in full battle-dress, still more comfortable than I would have been if I had stayed in the desert on Earth. It was still twenty degrees colder than it would have been there, at least.

"This is taking too long," grumbled Tam over the radio, after another hour or two of the same. I think she was worried about being caught again, as I had caught her looking back behind us every time I myself had glanced back to check on the wagon. Armen was snoring away on top of the boxes by that point, and Julie was driving.

"Try walking it," I shot back cheerfully, "I assure you, you'll feel every mile." I'm sure the others could probably smell every mile at this point, even from twenty yards behind. Humidity is a bitch.

"That might help..." she conceded, "But we shouldn't leave the cart with only two to guard it."

"I agree with Tam," said Julie, throwing her two coppers in, "It'll take a lot longer than a week if this is how fast we're moving." Which was more than a little dangerous for us, if true. I didn't like the sound of it at all.

"Is there anything we can do?" I asked, "Take a boat maybe?"

"Too expensive," said Julie, "Plus stealing one would be a lot harder than simply stealing another horse or two."

"Horse theft is a hanging crime in Orlais," said Tam, "They accused me of it at Halamshiral, I don't want to be accused of it again." Implying she had a horse when she arrived. Which was a little curious.

"If the chevaliers catch up with us, I suspect horse theft will be the least of our problems," replied Julie.

"I'd prefer not to draw the attention of those fuckwits to us," I said firmly, "We obey the laws unless we're threatened. Maybe we can buy another horse in trade for some of the stuff we have."

Julie mumbled something about horses only belonging to rich bastards, which was only audible to me due to the radio. I let out a chuckle, but was cut short by something ahead of me.

The hedges on both sides of the road were moving across a fallow field towards us.

I stopped in my tracks. Hedges don't usually move on their own usually, and as I had yet to encounter possessed trees, I concluded that they could only be in transit as cover for people hiding behind them. No one here could be aware of my capabilities, or those of my companions, which ruled out fear as the reason for hiding. The people approaching were clearly hostile. I readied my weapon to fire quickly, and whispered into my radio mouthpiece.

"Stop the cart, we have company. Wake Armen, and get ready to fight."

The rumbling of the cart ceased. The sound of feet hitting the ground behind me confirmed that Tam and the mage had disembarked from the cart, and a quick glance confirmed that Julie remained on the cart. I cursed, thinking I should have given the others some of the body armour that was sat useless on the back of the damn thing in a box. Meanwhile, the hedges moved in, one laying itself across the road in front, and another behind.

Armed men emerged from behind, carrying rather crappy looking swords and maces and battered wooden shields. Some sported chainmail, others hardened leather. However, despite their substandard equipment, they looked like men who could fight. Men who had seen more than one too. Each of them had scars in places where you would expect soldiers to have them. Possibly combat veterans then, I knew. Not that it would matter.

The most striking thing about them however was the helmets. While they all wore different types, of varying quality and shapes, one thing was common throughout. Two horns, like a bull's or a goat's, stuck out of the side of them. Most of their faces were covered with a sheet of metal too, only their eyes peering out at us. Intimidation tactics were the motive, obviously, though while such a thing might scare a medieval peasant, I was a little more hardened. I was tempted to invite them to watch a man burn alive.

The man leading them swung a huge axe over his shoulder, which was well suited to him as he easily matched my height and build, perhaps surpassing it. His armour was a little more worthy of the name, and he put himself in the middle of the road, and stared at us. He was waiting for one of us to act.

Of course, one whiff of fear and they'd all attack simultaneously. I stood to my full height, and attached my bayonet to my firelance before speaking.

"What have we here?" I asked, half-laughing, "The Knights Who Say Ni? You already appear to have a shrubbery. I don't suppose we could simply pass peacefully?"

The joke is one many would get now, but none could have then. My bravado was far from hollow, I might say at this point. It was merely designed to throw them off balance, maybe even convince them to let us go via confidence.

"This is _La Royaume des Bocages_ , and I am the king," declared Big One in an extremely deep tone, "For passage, you must pay your dues or face the wrath of the Horned Men." Either the man was putting on a voice to seem scary, or he needed to stop smoking.

So they were bandits, it turned out. Ruling over a hilariously named kingdom of the hedges. I have to say I was genuinely surprised, but then, I didn't know about the Fifth Blight or the unrest that had swirled around in Orlais in its aftermath. I had thought the nobles would stamp out such groups with no small degree of urgency, but apparently they're too stupid even for that. The Great Game consuming too much of their time for them to bother with basic governance. It's no wonder the 'Freemen of the Dales' gave them such trouble.

"We have the ones at the back," whispered Armen on the radio. Which granted me permission to do what I did next.

"The Horned Men huh?" I said, looking from side to side at the dozen men.

Big One took a step forwards. "No games. Surrender or we rob your corpses instead." The death threat had been issued, the possibility of mercy disappeared with it.

"But we haven't been properly introduced yet," I complained. I made a theatrical bow, and took my weapon into my hands. The idiots simply watched me.

"Well then, Horned Men," I said, "Meet the Wu Tang Clan."

The look of confusion on Big One's face was classic as I raised my weapon to my shoulder. A three round burst erupted from the barrel of the firelance, the bullets pinging through his armour before ripping into his chest with wet thuds. He tottered on his feet for a second, as if to move towards me. A bloody gasp later, and he fell forwards, landing on the ground hard and most certainly dead. A fitting end to a bastard, I felt.

No time to waste however.

I turned my firelance on the next target to the left, before the man could react. Another three bullets ripped into him, as a blinding flash from behind me followed immediately by a thunderclap confirmed Armen's involvement in the combat. The horse reared in fear, whining, but stayed put as all directions were cut off with some form of fighting.

The bandits were divided without their leader. The more grizzly looking ones charged at me like madmen, weapons raised and roaring like animals. The others turned and fled, deciding that facing off against us was not going to be a profitable venture. Probably because I just killed two men in as many seconds without any effort at all. Funnily enough, the would-be cowards had the right idea.

I dispatched the next three from left to right with no trouble at all, the victims of my fire tripping over themselves as they fell with fatal wounds, centre-mass. Chainmail and leather doesn't stop bullets in the slightest. The feeling of a complete and easy victory washed over me, the buzz of battle distracting me. It almost got me killed.

I sent bursts chasing after the fleeing bandits, killing another two or three of them. My blood was well and truly up, and I had no intention of leaving witnesses to my capabilities walking around. I had failed to notice the two sneaky fucks with daggers charging me from the right, well outside my peripheral vision. Fortunately, I had a guardian angel.

The first I knew that there was anyone behind me was the sound of a handcannon going off. Three shots. I turned quickly, firelance raised. I lowered it quickly.

Two bodies fell to the ground barely two paces from me, bloody wounds sprouted on them. The bandit behind had two holes in his chest, and the nearer one was missing a significant piece of his head. Both had branches with leaves strapped to them by netting, in a primitive camouflage. I turned on the spot, and found Julie a little further behind, my handcannon in her hand and pointed around.

She was shaking a little, but stopped as soon as she noticed that I was watching. She lowered the weapon quickly, and brushing a curl of hair out of her face.

"Good shot," I said, to reassure her, "When did you take my pistol?"

"Just before you got off the cart," she said, holding it out, "Sorry." I thought about rebuking her, given how dangerous the thing was, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I found her in such a bad situation that I wanted to protect her almost by instinct. I sighed for a moment, and rubbed my temples.

"It turned out well, so I forgive you," I replied, taking the weapon from her, "I'm just surprised you were able to get it working, or that you could shoot them so cleanly." Cleanly meaning accurately, not without mess. Flying metal tends to make things unclean.

"I learned from watching you shoot at Armen at the river," she said, cheering up a little, "I only need to see something once to remember it, and I remember everything." My eyebrow raised at that.

"A photographic memory..." I said, "That's quite a skill."

"It's not always a good thing," Julie replied, "I remember bad things perfectly too."

To be honest, I should have guessed that my new favourite blacksmith had an ability like that. Being able to read an entirely new script in mere hours, after having translated it herself, is simply too abnormal. It was only one aspect that made up Julie's pitiless intelligence, which would serve her well in the years to come. Having realised this, I made a decision.

I gave her back the handcannon.

"If you know how to use it, then keep it," I said, "There's a box full of them that I can use instead... As long as you know where the safety is."

"I do," smirked Julie, accepting the gift, "I'll keep it hidden, too."

"Good idea," I said, as the other two approached, "I'll teach you how to maintain it later."

I turned to find Tam was covered in blood, as was the dagger in her hand. No doubts there that she had opted for the close-quarters fight, as opposed to relying on her bow. Probably for the reason that had almost cost me my life; she could not have killed everyone with her bow before they charged her down. Bows aren't fitted with bayonets, as you can imagine. I shuddered at the sight again. I wasn't ever sure whether I was attracted to her or terrified of her at this point in our association, and one could turn to the other with alarming quickness. Okay, that's a lie, I was still overwhelmingly attracted to her. It's not like I hadn't seen a woman kill before. It was simply the nature of the fighting that was different. More personal.

Armen on the other hand was arching electricity between the head and base of his staff, ready for another discharge. He looked around, and seeing no bandits left alive, grounded the lightning and resumed his casual gait. He approached, picking his way through the dead with a still-alert Tam in tow. I snapped the bayonet off of my firelance, and slung it again, waiting for his comment.

"I see you were not exaggerating," he said, "Most of them just wanted out as fast as their legs could carry them."

"Most of them didn't get away," I remarked, with a glance to the fields where the runners had taken hits to the back.

"I doubt they expected you to start shooting lightning bolts at them either," Julie added, finding a good spot for her new pistol on her toolbelt.

"Don't forget the firebolts," said Tam flatly, finally putting away her dagger.

"They didn't expect you to be armed with that either," Armen said, pointing at Julie's belt and ignoring the Qunari's comment.

"No, they certainly did not," smiled Julie.

"We should get moving," said Tam, "No doubt someone heard the noise."

"Somehow, I don't think they'll come running," Armen said to her, "People who can summon fire and lightning? They'll leave that sort of thing to the Templars, who are far from here."

An idea occurred to me, looking at all the dead people around us. One that would see us moving along a little faster.

"Well, since we have the time," I started, "Let's check these ones, maybe they have something useful we can sell."

The others looked between each other, and agreed without a word. Tam and Julie began rifling through the pockets of those who had been caught close to the wagon, the latter taking Big One's two-handed axe. So now we had four extremely lethal individuals rather than just three. Armen and myself wandered to check on the others that had gotten a little distance away before I had shot them. The radios proved more than worth their weight in gold, as we were all able to speak despite being apart.

"The Maker is pleased with us," declared Julie, as I turned over one of my victims, "The _fils de pute_ here has a big bag of gold and silver. I guess we weren't the only people he stopped."

"Good, do you think it's enough for a horse?" I asked, having no idea how much a horse was worth in either world.

"A horse, a new cart, silk frills on a dress," she replied, "They must have been doing this for a while. I recall rumours of bandits up north, something about them avoiding taxes and robbing minor nobles. I guess we found them."

"Then we have done Orlais a great service," said Tam, not a hint of sarcasm leaking into her tone.

"That we have," said Julie cheerily, "And to the victors, go the spoils."

"An attitude I can get behind," added Armen, "Unfortunately, the others seem to be devoid of anything useful, apart from some bad wine."

I rifled through the pockets of yet another bandit, finding nothing. His chainmail was rusted, not even worth the trouble of ripping off and selling later. I stood up and rejoined Armen, who had found nothing either on two others that had seemed far more promising from a distance to me.

I nodded in the direction of the cart, and the elf walked with me back the way we had come.

"By the way, I must ask," he said, "Wu Tang Clan?"

I let out a laugh, reliving the line I had given the bandits. I amuse myself a lot, I think. With others, it's hit or miss.

"I introduced us like that, because the Wu Tang Clan ain't nothin' to..." I began.

Armen gave me a blank look, and I shut my mouth for a second.

"What?" asked Julie by radio, "Nothing to what?"

"Never mind," I chuckled, "It would take too long to explain." Like many other things.

* * *

 _AUTHOR'S NOTE: Reference packed chapter, because it had to be done._

 _I'll be working on the next BF2183 chapter, but don't expect too much of a delay._

 _As always, if you read it, review it. Even if you thought it was unworthy._

 _ **5 Coloured Walker:** The game is basically just what we do in Ireland anyway, albeit without the rules. Also, nitpicks are welcome. Whether or not I get around to fixing them is up to the gods though._

 _ **great northern one:** If you're referring to the Warden, AKA the Hero of Fereldan, AKA the player character from DA:O, I have decided on the details there, as the canon to be established actually matters a lot to the plot of this. _

_If you're asking if a Grey Warden will join the party, I have no concrete plans for that as of yet. It might fit for another arc, but I haven't fleshed that out yet._

 _What the Hero of Fereldan did knocks over a few dominos that reveal more about Hunt and his role in Thedas. I might be persuaded to spoil it a little, if enough people ask, if only because that part of the story is very far off and might not make the final cut._


	10. Chapter 10: Informant

**Chapter Ten: Informant**

For those who do not know it, the village of Gethran's Crossing is some thirty or forty miles south of Halamshiral, on the road running from there through the Emprise du Lion all the way to the Greatwood, or the Emerald Graves as it is known to the Dalish. The settlement sits on the western bank of one of the many tributary rivers that eventually join up and flow past the winter capital and into the sea, the river being passable to small ships until just afterwards. I remember being surprised at the wealth of such a small village as we rolled into it in due course. It seemed a positive hive of activity, with wagons and boats bustling about towards a dockyard where the aforementioned cargo ships waited to take minerals and farm produce north to the cities. There seemed no shortage of taverns, what I can only presume were brothels, coopers, blacksmiths, and most crucially, stablemasters. I remarked on this to Julie, asking if all places in Orlais were so obviously prosperous. She snorted with derision.

"This place is rich off the backs of everyone upriver," said Julie, "No tariffs here, so the cost is reduced for the _aristos_ in Halamshiral."

Which would turn out to have fairly devastating consequences for the place, when it remained loyal to Empress Celene during the coming war. However, such things were beyond my knowledge to predict, and at the time, I put down the comment to regional rivalry and jealousy. I couldn't blame her for it, taxes arbitrarily imposed on one part of the country and relieved off of another does tend to create resentment. Particularly if no one who lives in either has a say in setting taxes. It was worse than I thought, the royal court to the north acting like a leech, sucking the lifeblood from the land and gorging on it.

I looked on, observing the bustle until I realised that people were staring at me. My person specifically, not Tam or Armen, whom should have drawn more attention. I quickly understood the reason, and took off my helmet. I looked positively bizarre to a person who had never seen a firelance, bulletproof armour or even desert-pattern camouflage. All things that are known around these parts nowadays of course, but things that would obviously turn heads back then. I hung the helmet off its straps on my hip as I walked, and donned my blue beret once again. People turned their heads away immediately, only the brave continuing to stare.

"What's their problem?" I asked the others, as we came up on the quarter where the stables were.

"They think you're a royal officer, I think," said Armen, not quite sure, "Blue and gold are the royal colours of Orlais, your hat with that golden clasp and your bearing would suggest you are someone of importance." I snorted my amusement at that. First imprisoned as a brigand and a murderer, now people were scattering to avoid me as a noble. I wished they'd make up their minds for a moment, before remembering a detail.

"Wait, I'm not wearing a mask," I said, "Wouldn't they think I'm a commoner?"

"In weather like this?" said Julie with a smile, "Even nobles would take off their masks at this time of the day, or they'd suffocate."

"I don't understand why they wear them to begin with," said Tam.

"That's complicated," replied Julie, "But it's a tradition."

"How do they court each other without knowing what they all look like underneath?" Tam continued.

"They take the masks off in private company," Julie said, "Particularly when they are with friends or noble acquaintances in their own homes. It's only when commoners are around that they keep them on as much as possible."

"Bizarre," I muttered. Tam agreed with a nod, and the others said no more. It wasn't like we could change anyone's mind on the subject anyway. Not yet at least.

We arrived at a likely stable, the largest of the lot on the other side of town. Julie and I agreed that we should be the ones to go in, so the others wandered off with the cart in search of a place to eat and drink. We entered, putting our best buyers' faces on.

There were many stableboys, of varying ages from barely larger than a toddler to early adulthood, but they merged into the woodwork in comparison to the stablemaster himself. He wasn't a particularly large fellow, but he looked like he could benchpress a horse himself. I guessed he got a lot more meat than the others. Probably horsemeat, no less. He had grey hair covering the top of his head thickly, but a thin beard and moustache, the sort you'd get if you hadn't bothered to shave for a month. Aside from that, his clothes looked better than most of the peasants around the place. A busy man, one that liked to bark orders around. I wondered if his throat could withstand much more as I approached with Julie, while the others parked the wagon in a discreet corner elsewhere.

The man eyed over, looking me up and down for a solid minute before speaking.

"Do agents of the crown usually walk about in blistering heat?" he said, making the same mistake as those on the street. Resisting the urge to laugh at that, I kept a straight face and tread carefully.

"A man with no spare horses has no choice," I replied, neither confirming nor denying his notion that I was a noble, "I'm here to buy."

"Well, you're in the right place at least," he said, slapping a resting stablehand on the head lightly to get her moving again, "Might take a while to get the creatures ready, but you'll have them by the end of the day." I frowned at that. Every hour brought royal retribution, or discovery by the Templars, ever closer. Arguing about it didn't seem like it would hurry things along however, so I simply nodded my assent. The man clearly noticed my displeasure, but appreciated my polite reserve and waved us over to a desk.

"What exactly do you need?" he asked, taking his seat and a piece of parchment to hand.

I turned to Julie, having not a single clue about horses to begin with.

"Two packhorses, and a decent saddle for the one we already have," she said, smiling sweetly as she did so. The stablemaster's eyes flickered to me, his manner warming up a little.

"Do you let your servants speak for you?" he asked, leaning back in his seat and smirking. I can still remember the death glare that Julie gave him. Luckily, I was quick enough on the draw that I had exactly the right response, one good enough to stop her returning to the wagon for her axe, to split the man in two.

"She's my mistress," I replied, with an equally cheeky smirk, "I like practical people."

I won points for both lines, I could tell. That's how you play someone. Read them, then attend to their expectations of who you present yourself to be as best you can. Though it is also important not to overplay your hand. The man examined Julie again, who had softened a little thanks to my comment. Evidently I had won points with her too. It was obvious that he wasn't looking at her in a polite manner, and I was about to say something about it when his gaze came back to me.

"I bet you like a full bosom too," he said with no small degree of cynicism, "Practicality is great, but I see you haven't compromised on..."

"I'm standing right here," interrupted Julie, crossing her arms, "Or do you want to continue the discussion?" It wasn't a question.

The stablemaster's eyebrows twitched for a moment. He wasn't used to being talked to like that, I could tell. Not that he had any excuse for such commentary, but I decided to intervene before he lost his head. Literally and figuratively.

"No, I think we're done," I said, before he could sign his own death warrant, "Can you help us, good ser?"

"Yes, I have plenty of packhorses," he said, "Any preference on the saddle? My boy is a tanner, so we get all the leatherwork done here too."

"Something comfortable, but not priced at a rate close to thievery, would be nice," said Julie sternly.

"What, you're working on a budget?" the stablemaster complained to me, "I have to earn a living too, you know?" A transparent attempt to both embarrass me as a supposedly wealthy person and engage my non-existent sense of noblesse oblige. Still, there was no point being a cheapskate either. That tends to get you in trouble, when it matters.

"Like I said, she's a practical person," I replied, "I'll buy your best two packhorses, if that's any help."

The stablemaster mumbled to himself, nodding his agreement. He began writing, laying out the goods and pricing in the letters I couldn't understand. A few minutes of humming to himself, and he held the offer up to me. I passed the parchment to Julie for assessment, horse economics not being my area of expertise. She grimaced, tilting her head to work out the figures, as she likes to do when thinking. When her head raised, she was smiling again.

"And here I thought you were an unreasonable person," Julie said, "This will do perfectly."

"Well, I'm a soft one for a pretty lady," he joked, "Even if they do speak out of turn."

"Good to know," Julie replied flatly.

"Well then, make your mark," the stablemaster said to me, holding up a stylus made from a colourful feather. I raised an eyebrow, considering the possibility of letting Julie do the honours, but quickly understood that it would be bizarre for a noble. It was supposedly my money, after all. I took the ostentatious feather and wrote the name " _Napoléon Bonaparte_ " in a cursive, unreadable way, which was the first Orlesian sounding name that came to mind. The stablemaster held up the paper and blew it to dry the ink, before turning back to me.

"I'm sorry, we did not introduce ourselves," he said, glancing at the signature, "I am Pietre deSelle." I paused for a moment, panicking slightly. It hadn't occurred to me that we hadn't exchanged names. In the end, I just went with the deception that was most convenient. It did not pass without suspicion.

"Napoléon Bonaparte, in the military service of our glorious Empress," I replied. Ingloriously incompetent Empress, is what I should have said. But that would have raised doubts. Undoubtedly.

"Bonaparte... That sounds Antivan, but you look like a Fereldan," the stablemaster said, scratching his head, "How did a Fereldan with an Antivan name become Orlesian nobility?" His questions were getting on my nerves, or rather, my nerves were showing. I opted for intimidation.

"My grandfather married well," I said, leaning over the table towards him, "You are a curious one, aren't you?"

He betrayed no sign of being intimidated except for one thing. His eyes widened to a very notable degree. He regretted the question, clearly, but the ball was in his court. He could attack, call for guards, or give up. Unsure which path he'd take, I stared at him, seeing if he would react further. My hand edged towards the holster of my handcannon, ready to fire if required. Just when I thought he was about to break, Julie cleared her throat to get our attention. Both of us broke off the confrontation.

"Our business is concluded, _Monsieur_ deSelle," she said, "We shall return in a few hours for our property."

"Thank you, _madame_ ," he said quickly, taking the out she had given him, "I hope you'll do business with me again in the future." Not damned likely, you nosy jerk.

I stood up again, contract in hand and left the stable yard, Julie in tow. I rolled up the paper, and stuck it in a side pocket of my pack, safe and sound. My companion broke into giggles when we cleared the threshold, to my bewilderment.

"What is so funny?" I asked.

"I'm your mistress now, am I?" she said, taking my arm, "You shall have to dress me in the finest silks. I have expensive tastes." I scoffed at that in jest.

"In the mean time, let's just find Tam and Armen," I said, "It makes me nervous, those two alone."

"On that, we can agree," she said.

* * *

We found the Qunari and the mage at an open air tavern by the river, a bar covered with a wooden roof but no walls. It was a humble place, obviously for the dockworkers and coopers when they had finished up work. It was early afternoon, so the place was mostly empty, lunch hour having passed a while ago by that stage. I didn't mind that sort of place at all, except that it might blow my cover as a noble simply by being anywhere near it. Not that I had deliberately set out to pretend to be an aristocrat, but apparently it was the inevitable conclusion. Our two fellow travellers were sat next to a table with a clear view of the wagon, both facing it to make sure no one touched it.

Not that they would have noticed, as they were both knocking wooden jugs and drinking, a plate of hard bread and cheese set down in front of them. I never could figure out what they thought of each other. One moment, they would be eating and drinking merrily together like this, the next they would be squabbling over mage-crap. Julie and myself took our seats, eliciting a shouted greeting.

"Welcome to the party!" declared Armen, "Did you get what we need?"

"We did, and at a good price too," said Julie happily, "What's on the menu today?"

"The bread's a bit tough, but the cheese and ale are both good," Armen replied, "But that's not the best thing about this place."

"Oh, and what is?" I asked.

Right on cue, the waitress approached with another plate of food and two mugs. She was an elf, and a very beautiful one too. Blonde hair tied up in a ponytail, petite, and looking cheerful in her work. Couldn't work out her age exactly, but it had to be only slightly younger than the mage himself. I groaned, as Armen smiled like a buffoon at the girl, taking her hand and thanking her. To my shock, it worked. She seemed as smitten as he was, or was acting like it. Of course, his staff was nowhere to be seen.

"Do you need anything else?" she asked, holding her tray in her arms.

"We're okay for now," Armen said, "When I need something, I'll come find you." I swear to gentle Christ, the man winked at her. The waitress nodded, before turning on the spot to return behind the bar. Armen watched as she left, and I have to admit, what he was staring at was worth a little time. Julie noticed and slapped my shoulder playfully, and I grinned back.

"Good to see you aren't all business," I said, "For a moment there, I thought the cheek was just a cover for your rebel activities."

"He's been like this since we got here," said Tam, holding her cup up to drink, "It's very amusing. Will she run and scream when she finds out you are a mage?"

"She's not going to find out," replied Armen, before drinking his ale deeply.

"Might as well go for it," I said, "We have a couple of hours to kill."

The elf looked thoughtful for a moment, before getting up out of his seat slowly. He straightened his robes, removing a small dagger from a sleeve and placing it down on the table. I looked between the weapon and its owner for a moment, confused.

"You're right," he said, "Templars could come and kill me at any moment. Time to live. I am free now."

I felt like cheering the fellow, as he wandered off to chat with his new-found interest. She brightened up as he approached, and the two sat on high stools to speak. There weren't any other customers, so they had plenty of uninterrupted time. I looked on, and raised my cup in salute. That was the sort of spirit that endeared the man to me greatly. Righteous use of life, that.

"He claimed to be a scholar-confidant of a noble, by the way," Tam said, "To explain the robes."

"Ran into something similar at the stables," I thought aloud, "Is it really that easy to look like a noble?"

"Well, think about it," said Julie, "What's the difference between a noble and a commoner? What they wear and how they act. Your clothes are bizarre, yes, but anyone can tell that they're expensive compared to what a farm labourer wears. And you don't act like a commoner at all. You walk more upright, and you speak more openly without seeming insolent."

"I walk like that because I was trained to," I objected, "I'm not a noble."

"Doesn't matter," said Tam, "These people have never met anyone like you before. They'll make mistakes."

I conceded at that point. It was true. My homeland, where I was born and raised, where I learned everything I know of how to act, was an alien world to these folk. They would find my former countrymen arrogant if not confident, not only because of our achievements but because of our culture. We have known freedom for so long that we cannot imagine life without it. The opposite was true of the people around me that day. They had known nothing but unbending tyranny. I could say nothing, if they thought me a noble for thinking myself free.

At least, for the moment.

We ate and drank in a comfortable silence through the hottest hours of the day, enjoying the rest and watching the activity of the town. It was a soothing thing, pretending not to be a chased fugitive from another world. Armen disappeared into a storeroom with the waitress after an hour, which provided a good laugh for a while. We polished off the food and drink soon afterwards, and lamented our friend's occupation of the server.

Just as I became tempted to go to the storeroom door to get the would-be lovers out of there, as it was nearing the time to go get our new horses, trouble decided to rear its head in a most unexpected way.

A man with a longbow slung across him stopped in front of us. He was neither old nor young, was of average build in every way except that he looked slightly better fed than most. He was clearly a hunter of some kind, as he carried a brace of dead nugs over his shoulder and empty traps were tied to his hip. At first, he walked past us, barely giving us a glance and being so unremarkable that I had barely registered his presence. Until he marched back, head cocked, looking at me like I was a circus attraction. I narrowed my eyes at the man, used by the stares at this point but not willing to be regarded in such a way.

My companions noticed the man quickly, and we all watched in hostile wonderment. He paid the others no mind, his attention locked onto me. It was disturbing to say the least.

"Is there a problem?" asked Julie.

"You..." he said pointing at me, his face displaying shock, "You killed the dragon!"

I realised who he was instantly. My hearing at the _grand-parlement_ mentioned a huntsman, who had witnessed the events of the day from the woods. The man who had fetched Goldie and his lackey bastards. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that I would meet him. I felt my face curl with anger. I had found the lying rat. I considered shooting him on the spot, as he shook with anxiety or shock, but realised it was a bad idea. It would be too loud and would blow my cover. Besides, I wanted a little chat about a few things.

"You're supposed to be in prison!" the huntsman continued, "How are you here?!"

He stepped back. I could tell he was going to run. I wasn't the only one. All three of us got up slowly, ready to pounce. Unfortunately, he was faster. He started off into a sprint before we could react, the crowd parting neatly as he shouted for them to get out of the way. More fortunately for us, he didn't bother trying to slip down any side streets, instead running in a straight line along the docks. My stomach dropped, as I realised he would bring the garrison down on our heads.

"Tam," I said, calling on the only other person present who could stop him at this range. Quietly, at any rate.

The Qunari quickly snatched up her longbow, and nocked an arrow. It hissed as it left its perch, flying straight through the air at the rat bastard in question. The shot caught him dead on the left part of his back, the black fletch of the shaft sticking out. He spun and fell, revealing that the arrow had gone clean through him, the barbed point protruding from his chest.

The street fell deathly quiet, as all eyes turned to us. I didn't care. I needed to speak to him.

"Royal business!" I roared, pointing at my beret, "Nothing to see here, move along or face severe punishment!"

Eyes promptly averted themselves again quickly, as Tam nocked another arrow and Julie recovered her axe from the wagon. I wasn't surprised that my display had worked, as I was sure that word had gone around that a noble was about, but I was surprised at how quickly things had gone back to normal. The instinct of a commoner in the face of a royal officer, I guess. I bid the two ladies to stay by the wagon, as I jogged to the huntsman.

I found him still alive, though he would not remain so for much longer. I tweaked the arrow a little, and he shouted with pain. Just so we understood where each other stood.

"Why did you lie?" I growled, as some others stopped to stare, "What did you get out of it, you stupid fuck?"

"H-how are you still alive?" he moaned. I kicked him for good measure, and he doubled over with pain, rolling slightly. It revealed his leather bag. I grabbed it quickly, and found what I had suspected. The dragon's teeth, supposedly worth a small fortune, if my captors' speeches were any judgment. He had traded me to Goldie for money, and the noble expected to get favour at court for his trouble. What little iota of mercy I had for the man disappeared in an instant, but my mood improved greatly from having what was taken from me back.

"Well, well, looks like it isn't all bad," I said, menacingly, "Just one thing."

I gripped Tam's arrow and ripped it out of his flesh roughly, making the already devastating wound even worse. I fiddled with the black arrow between my fingers as the huntsman began to weaken. I leaned my full weight on his knee with my boot to get his attention again.

"That was for trying to sell me like cattle," I said, "I hope in the next life, you understand that what goes around comes around."

I stepped off of him and walked back to the wagon, the audience dispersing again and avoiding my glances. My fears of an angry mob or a group of guardsmen showing up had failed to materialise thus far, but I had no intention of sticking around. Both Julie and Tam were clearly ready to leave too, both of them wary of anyone walking nearby.

"Can we get out of here?" asked Julie, "We've drawn too much attention."

"Agreed," I said, "Let's get loverboy out of that room, and go pay the stablemaster."

* * *

 _AUTHOR'S NOTE: Another snappy chapter, since it has now been a month since Outlander's first chapter! Thank you to all that have read and reviewed this story._

 ** _KiraReaper:_** _The Circle at Halamshiral blew up, so it'll be a while before Templars show up as they have their hands full. However, let me say that I'm very excited about how that inevitable encounter is going to go down. It's going to be fun to write, and hopefully fun to read too.  
_

 ** _5 Coloured Walker:_** _Foreshadowing indeed. Appreciate your nitpicks as always. I'm a crap editor._

 ** _Judy:_** _I'm going to have to name a character after you at this rate!_


	11. Chapter 11: Feudal Feuds

_AUTHOR ALERT: It appears that almost four thousand words of the first chapter of this story went missing for two or three weeks, meaning that many people who have read and/or followed this story since then seemingly have not read about how Sam was captured and taken to Halamshiral. I must have accidentally deleted the content when I was doing an edit a while back._

 _It's all restored now, so if you haven't read that part, I suggest you go back and read it!_

* * *

 **Chapter Eleven: Feudal Feuds**

Armen emerged from the storeroom of the riverside tavern; a very satisfied look on his face, two barrels of ale under his arms, and his robes in slight disarray. The waitress exited afterwards, giving me a slight bow with an embarrassed smile and a blush, before scurrying off behind the bar. Again with the assumption that I am a noble, though it was deliberately cultivated in this case. I waved her off as she left, before curling my finger at our resident mage to approach.

"Trouble?" he said, as if the prospect meant absolutely nothing to him at all. He might as well have just held up a sign saying 'Doesn't matter, had sex' in big block letters across his chest. If it wasn't for the undoubtedly delicious ale, I would have punched him. Only half-jokingly, but still so he could have felt it.

"You could say that," said Tam out of the side of her mouth, her bow still at the ready for a draw, if required. There weren't any signs of armed troops, but she never was one to take chances.

"We ran into an acquaintance," Julie explained, "He recognised Sam, tried to run. Tam shot him."

"Then why aren't we being swarmed by the militia right now?" Armen asked, "Even I know that killing someone in the street doesn't tend to be welcome, Circle-raised or not." He finally started looking around for combatants. I sighed, glad at least that he had begun to think of it in terms of danger rather than humour.

"I shouted that it was royal business, bought us some time," I said, "But probably not a lot of it, so hurry the hell up before someone decides that challenging us is a good idea."

"Somehow, I do not think they are going to do _that_ ," chuckled Armen, pointing as us as the reason why, "But I get your point. Let's go get the horses."

"No, you stay by the wagon," I stated firmly, "You're the only one of us that isn't involved in this as far as anyone else knows. If we're captured before we get back, you need to get it somewhere safe and come rescue us."

I wasn't sure if I could trust him not to take the firelances straight to the Rebellion if that eventuality did come to pass, but I didn't have much choice. Someone needed to guard the otherworld technology, and taking Armen to the stables didn't seem like a wise idea. The mage took the order gracefully, at least. Probably because he could continue talking with the waitress that way.

Tam undid the restraints of our horse, a black destrier which I had named Fritz. He was a warhorse, this much was obvious to even my untrained eye. As to why he was pulling a cart, I had yet to get around to asking Armen about that. He responded to the question later with his usual amused reticence, refusing to say a word about anything related to his rebel activities.

Alas, the beautiful Qunari led the handsome horse onwards, turning heads as she did so, while Julie and myself lurked behind unnoticed for once. Though it's hardly a feat to be noticed when a woman is taller than everyone else, has clearly visible horns and she is almost half-naked from the waist upwards. More male heads turned with certainty, albeit not by a great degree. They tended to shy away again when the longbow and dagger finally crossed their attention though. The rumours had already spread.

Thanks to the distraction, we made good time to the stables, finding them in the same state of busy work that they were in when we had first arrived. Stablehands were wandering around, some cleaning the ground with brushes, others going about the place with buckets of feed. The stablemaster was sat exactly where we had left him, writing at his desk beneath the roof of the stable at the far end. He looked a little more worn out, which didn't surprise me at all, given all the shouting he had been doing before. We approached casually, Tam moving to the back to let us do the talking.

 _Monsieur_ deSelle took a moment to notice us, scribbling furiously with his feather on a piece of parchment, a stack of them sitting beside him along with a mug. His eyes rose without his face moving, before returning for a moment to the papers. He double-taked quickly.

"Ah, _Ser_ Bonaparte," he said quickly, "You are just in time."

"Well, I thought it best," I said, "No need to clutter up your stables with my new property a minute longer than necessary." No need to hang around and get caught out by lawmen either. Or worse.

"I appreciate your consideration," he replied, "Is this your horse?"

"It is," replied Tam in my place. I winced, as the stablemaster's attention was dragged by the scruff of the neck to the Qunari. His gaze took in every aspect of her, positively drinking it in through his eyeballs. He turned to me with a shake of the head, as if he knew what sort of man I was and was exasperated by it. Not the last such assumption, which only got worse as time went on and relationships developed. I still get criticism today, from those who do not understand or don't care to. Not giving a genuine solid figurative one for such talk has reaped great dividends, at least.

"This is Tam, my personal bodyguard," I said, thinking mercenary to be too impersonal a title for my new friend. Never liked mercenaries anyway. Unfortunately, my choice of words added to his impression of Tam as a whore, ranked below Julie as some kind of exotic toy.

"A Qunari, I see. I bet she is _personal_ ," he grunted, "Do bodyguards usually dress like concubines? Are the weapons part of the fetish?" If I could have had the time to groan, I would have groaned. Irony is that I share his distaste for the sort of man who would parade around with bought women. If his assumption was not so wide off the mark, we probably could have been a lot more friendly. Instead, the inevitable happened.

Tam's wicked curved dagger leapt from its scabbard almost of its own volition, and she stepped forward to prove it wasn't just an implement for my personal amusement. Sensing the immense bloodshed to come, I put myself in front of her quickly, a pace or two from the desk. I intercepted her focus on her target, and lightly put my hand on her right forearm, inches away from the blade. Her violet eyes softened, and to my relief, the dagger slipped back to its place on her hip. I could tell she was on the very edge of her restraint, so I turned around to deal with the cause.

"That's twice you've insulted people close to me," I said to the stablemaster, "If you think it's amusing a third time, I'll have you step outside to answer for your words." It sounded like something a noble would say in such a situation, or what I thought one would say. Have to admit I enjoyed the delivery as well. I didn't get to defend the honour of beautiful women in this way often, though to be frank, they could defend their own honour with complete lethality. Letting them at him didn't fit the whole 'hiding in plain sight' gig we had going though, so it was still best to handle it this way.

Unfortunately, our ruse had been seen through and my enjoyment disappeared instantly.

"Still acting the noble, I see," said deSelle with a sly tone, "Perhaps I should fetch the magistrate. They flay people pretending to be nobles here. After that display on the main street earlier, I think you should be more careful about who you threaten."

My heart immediately dropped like a stone with the shock. I should have known he had eyes everywhere. After all, he had no shortage of minions going about business, it made sense that his reach extended past his own gates. While I stood contemplating what to do, weighing the options, one of my companions had already decided. Julie unslung the axe she had picked off the bandit chief's corpse and leaned on the pommel.

"How will you fetch the magistrate without a head?" she growled, "How will they arrest us without arms or legs?" A woman determined to never see the inside of a prison cell again, and with determination like that, I suppose telling you that she never did is probably redundant. There was a bizarre exception, but that involves nonsense resulting in the crucifixion of a Tevinter magister.

Regardless, the sentiment was a little troublesome. Unlike the huntsman in the street, killing a prominent merchant wouldn't be waved off at the mention of royalty. The stablemaster knew this too. "How will you escape with half of the garrison of the Dales looking for you?" he said, "Where will you hide?"

"Who says we need to hide?" asked Tam, her lethal smile appearing at last, "We hold the advantage here." Her dagger was out again, though it was held in a leisurely manner, like she was about to strip an animal for the cooking-spit rather than kill a man in a fight. She was quite obviously referring to my weapons, though the target didn't know it.

"I knew there was something off about you," deSelle continued, "The garb itself was strange enough, but your manners towards your mistress... I had you watched, and you did not disappoint. Giving custom to a _paysan_ tavern barely fit for a dockhand? Killing a man in the street? Declaring it all to be royal business... The reward for bringing you in would be magnificent."

I didn't buy a word of his bravado. He thought he was smart, but he had no idea what he was dealing with.

"The last man to think that betraying me for money was a good idea is dead in the gutter less than four blocks away," I replied, "Perhaps it is better if we both conclude our business, and never speak of this again." Not sure if he understood what a block was, and I remember doubting it at the time, but he just rolled with it. Strange what you think of under pressure.

"What do I get out of that course of action?" he said, "Don't think it will be so easy to kill me before the guards arrive." There was a grain of truth in that, but I had discovered his vices. One was the same as the huntsman's failing. The other was something that fellow was incapable of.

"How about the satisfaction of a fair deal?" I said, "And if you think I'll try and kill you before the guards arrive, you're mistaken. No, I think every animal and stablehand I can find might produce more results. Perhaps I'll burn your precious stables to the ground. There must be something or someone here that you care about more than gold or your ego."

Pride and Greed, two deadly sins without mercy on those who are possessed by them. So easily exploited. Their demon counterparts are sons of bitches too, even for someone with my capabilities. The stablemaster's face sunk immediately. He knew I had him cold. Either the cost of having his entire business destroyed wouldn't be covered by the reward for helping to stop me, or he had more than a few blood relations running around.

My bet was on both, or rather, my bluff. I had no intention of killing any civilians, or putting them in danger by burning things. Apart from being against my oath to defend laws, I am not a murderer. I might have shot a few horses, if it came to it, and I had no qualms about shooting a magistrate, a servant of the foul government that I had plenty of reason to despise. DeSelle and his people were off the kill-list unless he attacked, but he didn't need to know that. The man himself stood up, and called a minion over, waiting while staring directly at me.

"Bring the two packhorses we prepared to the yard, Ser Bonaparte is ready to receive them," the stablemaster said to the young boy that arrived, "Hurry!" Apparently, he had been bluffing too, or was eager to play his threats off as a bluff in the name of preserving his livelihood. The hand ran off to do as he was told, while his boss turned around and grabbed a saddle from a table where many lay. He dumped it on the table roughly. Tam collected it, and went to place it on Fritz's back.

"Your payment," said Julie, slapping a number of gold and silver coins down on the table with one hand, hefting her axe over her shoulder with the other. It was slightly more than we had agreed upon, the intention there being easy to see. DeSelle seemed to cheer up a little when he realised the count was a little high, and nodded his understanding.

"I'm sorry we couldn't get along," I said, more or less sincerely, "But I swear, if anyone comes looking for me, you will regret it. Don't try and be smart, I am smarter. Enjoy the bonus." Always helps to add the threat of the stick when you're handing over a carrot, something I had learned long before ever coming to Thedas. The man's face was unreadable unlike before, not even his eyes gave away his true feelings on the matter. I interpreted it as defiance, but I would be proven wrong on that count.

DeSelle's subordinate brought the two packhorses along by the reins, two brown horses that were pretty much identical to each other. They both had feedpacks and some straps for attaching them to the wagon as well, as agreed. Julie took them, patting them both on the nose a little, which they seemed to like. Both the stablemaster and myself watched, as she pulled them onwards. Ignoring the both of us, she led them towards the entrance.

"They look like they could pull twice as much weight as they're going to," I said, conceding that the man was at least good as his job.

"I do what I'm paid for," he said, "Unlike you noble types."

"I thought I wasn't a noble?" I asked.

"You're not an Orlesian noble, but you're definitely an _aristo_ of some kind," he replied, sitting down again, "My guess would be a Fereldan's second son from somewhere near Orzammar, from the accent." Little did I know that the shortened word for an aristocrat literally meant a noble who gathered up men and women with offers of patronage for the purposes of sex. Which in retrospect seems almost prophetic, if you drop the malicious intent and solicitation. Julie had used the word as an insult too, so I knew that much. However, I wasn't savvy about the slang of the country, so I just shook my head in amusement.

"I don't even know what a... Fereldan is," I stated flatly. I thought it was a rank, if I recall correctly. Orzammar I correctly guessed as a place. Never did get to visit there, come to think of it. They really don't like me these days, so I guess I never will get to either. But when you oppose caste nonsense at every turn, things tend to get heated.

"As you say, Bonaparte," deSelle replied, his voice lowering slightly as his doubts rose. Orlais really is exceedingly French. Make of that statement what you will.

I would have been eager to retort, but Tam decided to mount Fritz. The warhorse trotted around happily, with interesting effects on her person, but intriguing me in another way as well. Horse archery has a pretty golden reputation on Earth, the result of a series of highly successful invasions by plains people, and I found myself wondering if she had practice with that sort of thing. The sight was entrancing too. Before I could vocalise the question, she urged me to follow and the horse galloped across the yard to join Julie with the packhorses.

"Goodbye, _Monsieur_ deSelle," I said, marching away without waiting for a reply.

* * *

Armen was chatting with his … lover, who was a little despondent. He had told her that we would be leaving, and to be honest, he looked a little depressed too. Perhaps weary is a better term. I was a little surprised, but I should not have been. He had been on the run longer than we had, the moment we had stolen 'his' cart from the avenue in Halamshiral was just another stage in his flight. No doubt he spent all of his time before meeting us on business for the Rebellion. So, without knowing it, I had actually witnessed his first moment of personal liberty. I thought he spent it quite well, both then and now.

Of course, the sight of Tam riding up diverted his attentions, and his paramour's too. She addressed him.

"It's time," she said, before wheeling Fritz out of the way for Julie to bring the packhorses to the wagon's front end. She made her way down the street, her eyes vigilant for any sign of trouble.

Armen stepped towards the waitress to allow them to pass, and I caught a little of his conversation as I passed to help. It wasn't a tearful moment, but there was definitely a sad tone. Her name was Ciara, not a very Orlesian name, but apparently a relatively elvish one. He promised to visit again when we had settled, as myself and Julie finally got the packhorses attached. I didn't view that idea as wise, but said nothing.

Julie and I exchanged a look as we were climbing onto the seats at the front of the wagon. She wanted to take the girl with us, was what she was trying to convey to me with it. I sat down on the wagon's bench and sighed, before consenting with a shrug. My companion smiled at me, melting my resolve further. I turned in my seat and cleared my throat, getting the attention of the two elves.

"You know, you could come with us, if you wanted to?" I said, speaking to Ciara with a grin. Armen looked at me like I was mad, but also with no small degree of happiness. Which was amusing enough to make the whole proposal worth it, I thought. She herself seemed torn, rubbing her hands together and lowering her head.

"It would be dangerous, but you could get away from here forever," added Armen, knowing something I didn't. As usual.

"Service to a noble might not be better," she said to Armen, "You're a … scholar. I'm nobody." Her accent was revealed in full, and it was bizarre. There were several parallels I could compare it to from my world; Irish, Welsh, Scottish to anyone who can understand what that means, but it was surprising. The few words she had spoken in my presence before then had been neutral.

"This man is unlike any noble you've ever heard of, trust me," smiled Armen, "He won't force you to do anything against your will." The last sentence wasn't meant as a threat, but I took it as such. There was definitely some backstory I was missing, but it seemed inappropriate to pry. It couldn't be as big as whatever Armen himself was hiding, that was for sure. Never did ask, and what little detail they betrayed in conversation is barely worth mention.

Ciara turned to me, as if looking for confirmation. Julie nudged me from behind, for encouragement. It was at that moment that I had a pretty damn good idea, if I do say so myself.

"Samuel Hunt, Marquis de LaFayette," I said, standing up on the wagon and bowing to her, "At your service, _madame_. We are in a hurry, so if you'd get your things, I'd be thankful." The now-former waitress blinked rapidly for a moment, before smiling and running off to find something to bring.

I chuckled a little, before sitting down again. LaFayette was a famous figure from Earth, in case you were wondering. If you're reading this, chances are there is a book about him somewhere in the vicinity. Otherwise, you'll recognise it from events here on Thedas.

As you can probably tell, I had decided to embrace my supposed image as a noble entirely. It was a problem that wasn't going to go away, I could tell, and there was little point correcting every fool who made the mistake. Better to use it to my advantage entirely. It would require more finesse than I had displayed until that point, but I was pretty confident I could pull it off. After all, I had Goldie and Red Mask as examples to draw from.

As Ciara returned with no small amount of baggage and began climbing onto the wagon, Tam returned on top of Fritz.

"Who's this?" she asked, before recognising our new traveller, "Ah, I see."

I held my breath for the objection, but it never came. She simply turned the horse and stopped, beside me. Over the sounds of Armen and Ciara getting onto the back of the wagon on top of the boxes, the Qunari leaned in to whisper to Julie and I.

"Nobles up ahead, with men-at-arms," she said, "Perhaps we should go around?"

I frowned and put my face in my palms, letting out an exasperated hiss through my teeth in frustration. Everywhere I looked, there seemed to be more bastards to get in my way. It was getting beyond irritating, edging on infuriating. I straightened up, and made my resolution.

"No, we go straight through like nothing is wrong," I said quietly, "We need to know if we're being hunted, this is the best way."

"And if they attack?" asked Julie.

"Then so do we," I replied, "Tam, don't so much as give them a look when you pass."

The horserider grinned and nodded, well aware of the reputation of her people. I hoped that she'd just look like a mercenary to anyone else. I readied my firelance to fire and set it across my thighs, ready to snatch it up and flip the safety catch off at a moment's notice.

Julie snapped the reins, and the two packhorses began pulling. Our investment had been worth every penny, we soon discovered, as they pulled the weight of the wagon and its cargo along at a very satisfactory pace indeed, though it was still slower than before we had picked up my cache. Tam went out in front, clearing the way very effectively for our passage. Other carts and wagons made way before her. I'm sure we made quite a sight as we left.

We passed the spot where the huntsman lay, his body being attended to by a priestess of some kind. Her robes were white and read, and her tall hat extended past the back of her head. I remember thinking it appropriate that the clergy of a religion with a female saviour were female themselves. This idea passed quickly, as the priestess noticed Tam, longbow and black arrows in clear sight. The woman opened her mouth, most likely to shout and condemn, but we came into sight at the same moment. Her jaw closed itself slowly, as her eyes remained transfixed to me. I inclined my head respectfully, and we moved along without issue.

We finally reached the bridge about five minutes later, which as you can imagine was what gave Gethran's Crossing its name. It was an elegant structure arching over the river enough for flat-bottomed barges to go through three-abreast if required. How it managed to stand that high without supporting arches or suspension wires, I don't know, but it was damn cool to look at. It seemed elvish to me, and I was right. I gawked at it as we approached, almost missing the large crowd of armed people beside.

I noticed them due to the sun flashing off the mask of one of the chevaliers, who was in the midst of mounting his own horse with the help of some poor fool kneeling so he could step up. His mask was silver inlaid with a yellow and black striped rim, which couldn't have been comfortable even though the heat had dropped off in the afternoon. With him were a crowd of men in chainmail covered with blue, armed mostly with swords but with a few wooden crossbows and spears among the bunch. There had to be at least forty of them, and another masked individual on horseback as well.

The finely enamelled image of a perfect face followed Tam first, and she did as she was told, keeping bolt straight in the saddle and her head pointed directly ahead. Once the Qunari had got onto the bridge itself, the chevalier looked at me just as we were right beside each other. I could see his eyes through the mask, and they were narrowed. He found us suspicious, which he can hardly be blamed for, as we were suspicious. However, as we passed, he did nothing. We soon got over the sharp incline of the bridge and disappeared from their sight.

I breathed a sigh of relief. Every fibre of my being thought that an attack would be ordered.

"I guess that word of our escape hasn't got out," said Julie softly, "Perhaps they think we're dead."

"We can hope," I replied, "But we can't take any chances."

* * *

We travelled quietly for about four more hours, through the same sort of countryside that we had seen on the approach to the village. Farmlands, hedges, peasants and livestock. All flat land, with few places to hide. I had quietly been searching our surroundings for a defensible position as we travelled, but had found nothing until that point, filling the time with small talk with Julie about my world and what she had read in the books we had recovered from the helicopter.

"What should we call these horses?" she said, suddenly veering off the topic.

"Huh?" I said, not quite following her. As she had changed so suddenly.

"These two," she said, before pointing between the warhorse and the packhorses, "You named _that_ one Fritz, what should we call _them_?"

I thought about it for a moment, leaning back against the bench and the boxes behind it, before coming to two possibilities which I felt were appropriate.

"Well, this one is definitely lucky, so it should be called Lucky," I said, pointing to the horse on the left, "He passed by that noble without giving anything away, so it's a good omen."

Julie grimaced as she thought about it, before smiling.

"That works," she declared, "What about the other one?"

"Bob," I said immediately.

"Bob?" she asked back, her own accent lengthening the 'o' in a funny way. It was cute.

"Yeah, Bob," I continued, "Definitely the right name."

"Why?" Julie said.

"Looks like a Bob," I replied.

Julie started into a soft laughing fit, as I tucked my hands back and enjoyed the show. The joke being that Bob was identical to Lucky in every respect. It was another one of my crappy jokes, but she didn't seem to mind. A startled Tam turned around in the saddle to look back, and the two elves in the back leaned over the box dividing the front from the back to see. Her laughing died down after a little while.

"Ah Sam, you are funny for trying to be funny," said Julie, taking a breath.

"I do try," I replied, frowning.

Tam cursed a little in her mother tongue, turning the horse.

"Sometimes, I do not know if you are both crazy," she said, drawing up alongside.

"They are almost certainly mad," said Armen, "But so are you." Hit the nail on the head there. In my opinion. Not that he's exempt from scrutiny, but he was definitely the most level-headed of us.

"What sort of noble are you?" said Ciara, suddenly, "Are you a noble at all?" Nope, sorry. Not a drop of noble blood in my veins from either world. Just like almost everyone else.

"It's complicated," I replied, "But you can probably tell that I'm not from Orlais."

"You sound like a dwarf," she said plainly, "But you seem like a noble until you speak to either of them." She pointed at Julie and Tam.

Well of course I spoke to them differently. We had gone through a fairly dangerous prison break together, after all. I admired them both, albeit in different respects. Tam was still too terrifying at this point, despite her quirks. There wasn't any real way to convey this in real terms however, so I made the other point that was on my mind.

"I am really looking forward to meeting a dwarf," I mused, "It's driving me a little crazy that people keep saying I sound like one and I have no idea what they mean."

"Have you never met a dwarf before?" Ciara asked, her confusion growing.

"No, I have not," I said.

"You must be from very far away then," she said, "They trade everywhere I've heard of."

"Far away doesn't even begin to describe just how far my homeland is," I said with a smile, "Not to worry though, I'm hoping to go back soon."

" _We're_ going with him," added Tam, for good measure. Her distrust of Armen had not lessened, I could tell. Ciara nodded and looked thoughtful, then moved to the back of the wagon out of my sight. Armen leaned forwards over the bench, holding himself up on his palms to talk discreetly.

"...You're not going to tell her..." he started.

"She's going to find out soon anyway," I stated.

"Why's that?" Julie asked.

"Because I'm willing to bet everything I have on that chevalier and his little army coming to find us," I said, "I don't think we're going to be able to avoid using some Earth magic."

* * *

In the evening, the heat broke and not a minute too soon. Soon after the conversation with Armen, I spotted a good place to hole up for the night. A decent sized hill with plenty of trees on it, flanked by the river and the road. It even had a path running up its side, worn down by people climbing it. With some difficulty, we managed to get the wagon to the top. With more than a little heaving from Tam, Julie and myself. No offence to Armen or Ciara, but it didn't look like either of them were good for pushing. Once that was done, there was little time for rest, even for my new elven friends.

"Why are we digging holes again?" asked Julie, as she threw a clod of dirt in front of her with the entrenching tool I had given her for the job.

"Foxholes," I corrected, copying her motion.

"Why are we digging foxholes?" asked Tam from behind me, patting down the mud in front of her as I had instructed. She was making better progress than anyone, but then, she had better endurance than any of us and could work faster.

"Why are we collecting stones?" said Armen, dumping a bunch of rocks down, "It's getting dark."

"Which is why we need to finish this quickly," I said.

"It would be easier if you just told us," Julie said, irritation growing in her voice, "We're not stupid, you know?" I had thought that the opposite would be true. We didn't really have time for a round of questions, and my apprehension about the coming fight had just grown and grown with every passing minute. The reason for which I decided to reveal, in the hope that they'd quit bitching about my bizarre orders and just follow them. I did tend to forget they were civilians rather than squadmates. So, I waited until Armen and Ciara were out of earshot and spoke to the others.

"Okay, fine," I said, "That group back in town had a bunch of crossbows, and since we don't have any shields, I was thinking that if we're going to be shot at, we should have a little something to hide in." Also might help with shrapnel.

"Why bother?" asked Tam, "The saarebas and you can kill them all before they even see us from a distance."

"We're trying to avoid more trouble," I said, "Besides, having Armen use magic will definitely bring Templar attention down on our heads." Not to mention I was entirely unsure if the mage wanted to reveal his true nature to his new charge yet. Even Julie regarded him with suspicion, it was hard to imagine that Ciara would be immediately accepting.

"So will your firelance," said Julie, digging as she talked, "I read your documents, remember? They think it is magic."

"They're more likely to send a group to investigate, because it's something they've never seen before," I replied, "They won't send numbers we can't deal with. They might even dismiss what they hear about my weapons as rumour designed to distract them from the Rebellion." I was entirely wrong with that prediction, as you will see. Probably because of how I chose to deal with this situation, now that I really think about it.

"That's true," said Armen as he returned alone, only catching my last few sentences, "The mages are hiding at Andoral's Reach far to the north. They can't afford to strip away forces from Val Royeaux, even with what you did at Halamshiral."

"So you're good to go?" I asked, clearing the bottom of my foxhole with my foot and then shovelling the detris out.

The mage frowned at me, like the question was a bad vegetable he had to eat. Which answered my question about whether or not he was conflicted about his magical skill, and whether or not to reveal it. I continued working while he looked off into the distance.

"Yes," he said finally, "If you're going to trust me, help my cause, I cannot abandon you to fight alone here." Well said, I think.

"We might not need you to do anything," I replied, "I have an ace up my sleeve for those assholes."

"Ace up your sleeve?" asked Armen, his smile returned.

"It's part of a card game," I said, "Actually, I think I might have a deck."

Some talk about poker ensued afterwards, as I conscripted Armen and a returned Ciara to the digging duties. The soil was soft, like that of the crash-site, so it was quick going. We had two foxholes big enough to fit three people a piece done in no time at all, the sections facing the hillside and path protected by the dirt we had dug up and lined with the stones. I augmented the whole thing with a few small shrubs I pulled out of the ground, so they wouldn't be able to spot the arrangement so easily. In other words, perfect cover from a bunch of peasant crossbowmen trying to kill us.

After that, I explained the plan, which caused a lot of consternation about whether or not it would work, and got everyone something to eat out of the ration packs while I went about laying down the last preparations. It was possibly dangerous work, so I didn't want the others interfering. When that was done with, I returned and opened up some of the boxes. It was time to get downright diabolical.

"Alright, gather around," I said to them, as they munched on more of my crackers. They obeyed, standing up from the circle they had made for a fire, which they had not lit yet on my order. I picked a piece of body armour and held it out.

"This is armour from my country... well, actually, it's from Israel, but whatever, take it," I said, "It'll stop a crossbow bolt easy, even up close."

Tam stepped forward and took the vest, feeling the inside of it for a moment. Her eyes widened. My eyebrow crept upward.

"It feels like vitaar flesh," she said, surprised.

"Vee-tar?" I asked, "Is that some sort of animal?"

"No, it is warpaint," Tam replied, putting on my gift and strapping herself up, "A potent poison mixed with the blood of the user, and then painted onto the skin of a Qunari. It turns into what you might call ironflesh." That right there is commitment to cause, ladies and gentlemen. Tam later informed me of the side effects, particularly if you left it on too long. Permanent scarring being the more cosmetic of them, and indeed many Qunari warriors have such scars. It's just hard to notice them as many keep the patterns they use the same over the course of their often short lives. The smart or important ones keep away from the side effects.

"Wait, warpaint..." I said, "Is that the paint you have in your pack?!"

"Yes, I was able to bring some of the basic ingredients with me when I escaped," said Tam.

"What does it do to non-Qunari?" I asked.

"Death, sometimes slow and agonising, sometimes in minutes. It depends, really," she replied, not particularly bothered by the prospect, "Do you have a helmet like yours too?"

I was speechless. Back in the prison storage room, I had opened up the chest containing Tam's effects and found the large paint pot more than a little interesting. To think that I could have died if I had investigated a little further than I had... God was smiling on me that day with more than the escape, apparently.

Shaking myself out of the idea of dying like that, I handed the Qunari a helmet like she asked. I thought the horns would get in the way, but they were small enough to tuck in at the back. A fact which would be the subject of an amusing exchange in a matter of days, but meant nothing to me then.

"It isn't the finest silk, but it will do," said Julie, as she collected her armour, "I guess we aren't going to get a private moment any time soon, are we?"

"Not likely," I replied sadly.

"Well, we'll get home quickly," she said, "It is not good there either, but there is at least some privacy."

"I hope," I replied with a smile. Though I doubted we would get privacy. Not with Tam's communal habits. I was right, but it didn't matter.

Armen and Ciara took the armour with a great deal more enthusiasm, probably because neither were real brawlers at any point in their lives. The lack of huge amounts of metal also turned out to be a good thing for our mage, as he could still wear the armour without it affecting his magic apparently. He thanked me as such. So the entire band looked positively weird, even to my eye. Sand-coloured 'cloth' armour and big round helmets, at night, in the middle of a forest. I could only imagine what it would look like to some poor peasant or to a chevalier, but I hoped they would think it ridiculous enough to charge recklessly.

Satisfied that we were ready, we all got into the foxholes with weapons and sleeping bags, turned on our radio headsets to communicate, and had some more of the food to wait for the inevitable. Tam and Julie were in my trench, the larger of the two with enough room for the former to stand up and shoot her bow over the top with no problem. I left Ciara and Armen to the second one, which was further back. Perhaps that was a bad idea, as they soon turned off their radios and began what healthy adults do when isolated together. I rather kindly put it down to nerves and let them be. I was a little busy fixing a heat-sight device to my helmet.

* * *

After a while, we sat quietly with nothing but the sounds of the forest at night and the thankfully very muted tones from the other trench. It had gotten darker, though it was still light enough that any passerby on the road could look up to see our wagon and our well-secured horses. I was hoping it would get completely dark before the nobles could find us, if they were searching at all. They would then have to travel by torchlight, which is like holding up a big sign saying 'Please Kill Me' when you're packing the sort of weaponry I was. Still, I watched along the road we came from with both my own eyes and the technology at my disposal, and no marching soldiers came.

"Are you absolutely sure they are coming?" asked Julie, out of the blue.

"No," I said, "But the look in that masked guy's eyes when we passed... he absolutely investigated who we were once we were gone, and if I was in his position, I would chase us."

"Do you think the stablemaster betrayed us?" asked Tam. The consequences of which for the man in question were written all over her tone, and I very much shared the sentiment.

"If he did, we'll find out soon enough," I replied, "I gave him a false name."

"But we have time," she said, "There are a lot of them, so they'll move slowly, right?"

"Yes..." I said, not knowing where she was going with it, "So what?"

She got comfortable before she continued, "Perhaps we should seize the moment."

"How?" I asked, naively.

Julie raised an eyebrow suggestively, and moved closer. I had to restrain myself from bursting out laughing. What a wonderfully absurd idea.

"There are people trying to kill us right now," I said, incredulous, "Besides, we're not alone."

I pointed to the third person in the trench. Tam was sat in the corner, longbow and quiver leaning against the side, listening intently with a neutral face. Which should have been a warning sign in its own right, but I was distracted enough to dismiss it as a sign of disinterest in the actual proposal.

"I know, it's a great opportunity," said Julie, glancing at the Qunari, "For all of us."

The intention was clear. This was my first experience with what I suppose you could call Orlesian polyamory, perhaps the only positive thing that emerged from the frankly disturbing attitude in that country about marriage and its purpose. It really sneaked up on me. I moved my jaw to speak a few times, but couldn't vocalise any objections. Because I'm an imbecile.

"Sam, you refused to hurt me when I was most vulnerable, and broke me out of prison. Tam, you killed the gaoler who threatened me, and stopped us from being caught," continued Julie, "You are both important to me now. We have a little time. Let's get closer."

My eyes boggled at the suggestion. "I'm very glad to hear that I matter to you," I said, "But as much as it pains me to say it, maybe this isn't the best moment." Some measure of reason was beginning to reassert itself at this point, as you can probably tell.

"It may be the only moment," said Tam. She shuffled closer too, and my temperature rose.

"Seriously?" I asked her, "You too?"

"To be honest, it's been a while since I've had any such relief," she admitted with a shrug, "We'll see and hear the _bas_ long before they see us, so why not? The mage doesn't seem to care." I got the feeling she was protesting a little too much. She felt affection for us too, but had too much dogma to express it in words yet. I wasn't the only one to notice.

"Perhaps you and I should find another hole in the ground," said Julie jokingly, "Since we are unwelcome in this one." She took Tam's hand and made to stand up, at which point I grabbed her by a strap on her armour and bade her to sit again. The madamoiselle was always quite skilled at getting what she wanted, and I am a sucker for the guilt trip. I closed my eyes and inclined my head, giving my consent.

Julie tipped her helmet off her head and set it down behind her, letting her brown hair down. Tam followed suit, and the two knelt beside each other. What they did next finally destroyed what little reason I was still operating under. They kissed, holding each other by the hands as they did so.

It was truly beautiful. Not just from the obvious male perspective, though that was a factor, but it felt like a dam had finally broken between us after days of build-up. I knew I felt greater and greater appreciation at having both of them by my side at a time where I was utterly lost. This is probably a biased retelling anyway, considering how important they both became to me. All I know is that by the time they stopped, I was fully under their spell. My worries disappeared.

As if to signal, I whipped my helmet off my head, barely bothering to undo the straps, before putting my gloves and weapon down with it. Julie closed in and our lips met, warming my insides as if I had downed a shot of liquor. All three of us moved still closer, hands and fingers threading each other. Tam kissed our necks as we continued, and before I knew it, I was kissing her too. We all began slowly undoing the buckles of each other's armour and clothing, eager for more. We embraced each other, and placed our lips everywhere it is pleasurable to put them.

Which is to say that it was all entirely genuine.

Many have accused us of malicious intent. That I somehow collected a harem for my personal pleasure, that Julie insinuated herself with us for political gain, or that Tam was a Qunari spy playing us for dupes. Utterly wrong, all of it. If anyone collected us together, it was Julie, not me. If there was anyone who gained in other ways, it wasn't just us. The notion of Tam as a spy is beyond ridiculous, she couldn't lie without giving it away plainly on her face. These insults continue in various forms to the present day, and I have no doubt some will be repeated long after I am dead.

Let the record stand true. All three of us came together out of mutual trust and admiration. Something that had huge consequences for millions of people, possibly hundreds of millions both born and unborn, when the shit really began to happen. Like when the Breach opened. The nature of my immunity to the Fade and the knowledge I had made it inevitable. We were falling for each other, damned cliché as it sounds. I am not sure if we were in love yet, but there was deep affection out of circumstance. Hardship can build trust like no other thing. Add in lust, and you get why we felt the need to indulge each other in this way. It was all something I possibly needed, as the idea of never returning to Earth was eating away at the back of my mind.

The notion of being whisked back to the world of my birth is what keeps me up at night now.

* * *

To return to the story, we were half-undressed and were about to enter the next stage of what was looking like a particularly enjoyable evening when we were interrupted.

Horses neighed loudly at a distance, far enough away not to be our own and close enough to cause alarm. My heart nearly ripped out of my chest with the surprise, and we disentangled ourselves from the sleeping bags and each other with urgency. Clothes, helmets and armour were shoved on as quickly as possible, radios activated, and weapons returned to our hands.

"Son of a bitch, what timing," I said under my breath, before activating my comms, "Armen, are you dressed over there?"

"I never got undressed," he replied, clearly amused at the suggestion. Liar. "Did you hear the horses?"

"Yeah, give me a second," I said. I stood up to look over the edge, and placed the heat-vision device onto the front of my helmet once again. I had two types, one that could see in the dark as if it was still light and one that could see the heat of a person's body, like some animals can. It was the latter I had selected. When I activated it, I cursed loudly at what it revealed. The entire bottom of the hill was filled with the white heat of human bodies, contrasted against the black-grey background of the forest. I could even pick out their armour and weapons, heated by their exertions.

"How many?" asked Tam.

"A hundred at least," I growled, "The bastard went and got a few more friends."

"We can still beat them," said Julie, "We must beat them."

"More meat for the grinder," I said, my tone full of malice, "God help them if they come up the hill at us."

"Shouldn't we try to keep them away?" said Tam. Under normal circumstances, she would be right.

"No, if we're going to fight, they need to think they can come up that path," I said, "No shooting until the fireworks."

"Fireworks?" asked the two of them.

"You'll see," I said, "We're away from a settlement, so I can use my full bag of tricks."

I explained a little more, and we waited another while. A drumbeat sounded, and I returned my attention to the enemies below. They had formed into something like a coherent set of groups, all facing our way. They knew we were possibly hostile, I could tell, and I began to suspect they had sent someone to follow and watch us. They were lined up as if to attack a fortified position. Which was exactly what they would have to do. Either someone had observed our position or commander was very insightful. I never really got the chance to ask.

"You on the hill!" came the call from what could only be an attendant, "Yield in the name of our rightful Emperor, Gaspard de Chalons!"

"Hold on a minute!" I shouted back.

Not a word made sense to me. I could tell that their source of information hadn't been the stablemaster, as they hadn't addressed me as Bonaparte and his offer of surrender definitely assumed I was a noble. The courtroom at Halamshiral had said someone called Celene was Empress. I needed more intelligence on who I was dealing with, if I was going to negotiate. For clarification, I turned to my companions.

"Anyone know who this Gaspard fool is?" I said, "Is he the one chasing us?"

" _Grand-Duke_ Gaspard, cousin to the Empress Celene," Armen replied, "He was robbed of the throne, or so he believes, so he plays the Game against her in the shadows. It's probably one of his vassals." I understood that easily enough.

"Love their titles, don't they?" I said, "Grand-Duke this, Chevalier that."

"Some say he's building his strength, waiting for the moment to strike," added Julie, "Tax collectors escorted by chevaliers loyal to him arrested me, and they come more regularly than before."

"Great," I said, "Why on Earth are they chasing us?"

"You said you were on royal business, didn't you?" Tam said, warming up her longbow, "They must think that killing or capturing you will help them."

I groaned, annoyed that politics was now sending hundreds of soldiers after me. Templar death squads were the worst I thought I would need to handle at the start of the day, so I was pretty depressed by the possibility of larger numbers. I didn't give the tiniest figurative one about who ruled the country, as opposed to the manner in which it was ruled and how safe we were. I had already done enough damage without involving myself in more conflicts.

As if to say hurry up, several crossbow bolts hissed above us, and landed head-first in the ground behind us at our eye-level. Another volley after twenty seconds. Good thing we had dug in.

"I guess that concludes negotiations," I said.

It was a strange thing, being attacked with what I could only think of as an antique weapon. Still, I went straight into a fighting mindset. I had seen what bows could do to animals before, as my countrymen still used them for hunting. No need to become a pincushion.

Very slowly, I peeked over the edge again. Troops were making their way up the path, stumbling on the uneven ground but keeping together nonetheless. Chainmail glowing white with their body heat in my enhanced sight, shields raised to shoulder height. They were all dead, they just didn't realise it yet. I felt a pang of sadness for them, but knew that I could not fail to kill them. They wouldn't lay down their arms, no matter what I said. Terror was required.

"God, I hope this works," I said the two other occupants of the foxhole. They both nodded. I kissed them both for luck, as quickly as I could. "Get ready." I had no idea how many I could kill. In retrospect, I shouldn't have been so worried, but I'm Sam Hunt, not Captain Hindsight. The infantry bumbled up the hill, right into the killzone. I grimaced, and pat Julie on the shoulder.

Julie held the flare gun directly up as I had instructed, and fired the flare into the sky. Searing bright white light filled the hillside, turning it leafy green from the hazy blue-black it had been before. The men-at-arms looked shocked and confused, visibly squinting upwards. The commander atop a horse at the bottom was the same.

"Now Tam!" I commanded.

The Qunari stood up to her full height, shoulders above the parapet, the sand-yellow of her helmet almost glowing in the flare-light. Nocking a black arrow to the black longbow that was as large as she was, she drew it back and tilted back onto her waist slightly. The shot breathed away from the bow, across Tam's thumb and into the air. It sailed above the heads of the troops closing in, causing great worry among them as they ducked and raised their shields to cover their heads. They need not have bothered, they weren't the target.

It was impossible to watch the arrow properly in the night, even with my night-vision devices, but the effect was clear once it landed. It caught the chevalier's horse below the neck at the collar bone, a splatter of warm blood erupting from the skin that almost looked like a flower. The horse reeled from the blow, tossing its rider. It collapsed, landing on top of him. A perfect hit. Tam ducked down as more crossbow bolts came by in response, hastily aimed but still managing to pierce the air where she had stood a fraction of a second earlier. She wasn't smiling.

"Shieldwall!" cried a squire or sergeant. The broken up groups of spearmen began reforming closer together. The advance stopped dead. An apt term.

I lay down my firelance and picked up the first two triggers in both hands.

"FIRE IN THE HOLE!" I roared, before snapping them closed.

The first set of mines went off, shooting tongues of flame and hundreds of metal balls into the front ranks at huge speed. I couldn't help but be reminded of the dragon as it burned and ripped Fraser's men apart. The front soldiers collapsed, those still conscious holding bits of themselves together or twitching violently before going still. Blood spilled everywhere. I turned off the heat-sight device and placed it back in its pouch. Grizzly stuff to watch, and there was more to come.

Waiting for the enemy to recover, I detonated the other set of mines as the survivors backed off. They were angled to catch them from behind. Again, the explosives threw fire and metal at the closed ranks, and again, dozens of men fell. The crossbowmen were almost entirely wiped out. This time, whatever order was being imposed on the troops completely disappeared. Those left either began to run or ducked for cover, eyes wide with fear and confusion. I knew that feeling well.

I snapped the bayonet and flashlight onto the nose of my firelance as the flare's light finally died, and placed the night-vision device onto my helmet. The world turned a sickly green-grey, but I could see again. I took a deep breath, to suppress the fatigue building in my bones. I stepped up, out of the protection of the foxhole. I was sure that I could still be seen, even though the moons were just crescents that night. I whispered to the others to follow, and moved cautiously forward.

I ignored the carnage as best I could, as it would transfix me if I paid any heed to it. Opening me up to be killed by anyone waiting for an opportunity.

A poor idiot rose up from behind a bush and charged me, spear ready and shield raised.

He was a very lucky idiot however, as he had waited until I was just close enough. I took the thrust dead in the chest, easily a lethal blow if I had been wearing what he was. However, I wasn't, so he was actually unlucky. I was in fact wearing something a whole lot better than chainmail. The blow winded me, but I managed to grab his weapon below the head. He immediately let go of it and went to grab a short sword from his belt. I shot him with my firelance as he finally got it out of the scabbard, three bullets easily piercing him. He collapsed to the ground, as my heart began a return to a less feverish pace.

"Come out and throw down your weapons!" I shouted, "You won't be harmed!"

"Is that wise?" asked Tam from a distance, arrow nocked as she stood a little way back.

"Just watch," I replied.

Sure enough, soldiers began to stand up before tossing aside their spears, swords and crossbows, and folding back the hoods of their chainmail. I activated the flashlight on the end of my firelance, which had them flinching, and frogmarched them to the bottom of the hill.

"Kneel, and put your hands on your head," I barked, as Julie covered them with her handcannon, keeping her axe over her shoulder for quick use as well. The prisoners complied, and I made my way to the downed horse. Time to see what our opponent was made of.

The chevalier sighed as I approached, which surprised me. I had half expected him to be cursing me out or calling me a roguish rapscallion. Aristocratic even in defeat. Instead, he seemed to be more aware of just what situation he was in. He lay back on his elbows, leg trapped under his very dead horse, and watched me approach.

"Qunari blackpowder," he said, not an inch of hauteur in his tone, "Most impressive."

"I'm surprised you recognised that wasn't magic," I said, not wishing to reveal anything about my origins, "Impressive."

He looked up the hill at the mass of dead, bloodied men, and to his troops kneeling before Tam and Julie. I looked him over for a second. Even with his mask on, I could tell he was defeated. Now it was a matter of seeing if he would admit it.

"Are you injured?" I asked, "Is your leg broken?"

"Merely pinned," he replied.

I helped the man drag himself out from under the horse, and he stood unevenly. He reached for his sword immediately, and I took a step back, raising my own weapon. It was unnecessary. He removed his sword and sheathe together, holding it with one hand by his side.

"I am Ser Milo Duval of the Exalted Plains," he said, "Sworn to the true Emperor of Orlais." He awaited my response.

"Samuel Hunt, Marquis de Lafayette," I replied, smiling at the joke.

"Lafayette?" he said, "I am not familiar with it."

"You wouldn't be, it is far to the west over the sea," I said, "I am not in fact a servant of the Empress, as you may have heard." Ser Duval nodded to himself, as if it made sense, glancing at his dead men. His face was covered by the silver mask, but I could tell he knew he had made a massive mistake. It was the way his shoulders slumped slightly as he stood. He was guilty, and I felt sorry for him. My own lies had brought him to this point, after all.

"Very well, Marquis," he said, "I offer you my surrender."

He held up his sword on both of his palms, and lowered his head. I reached out to take it, when a shout came from behind.

A group of three men charged at me, looking like madmen. Their leader wore a mask, this time a dark colour, with a nasty looking mace raised over his head. I turned and shot one of his acolytes with my firelance. Wounds rippled along the man's lower torso, and he dropped. I tweaked my aim to the right, to hit the masked one. I had to raise it to stop hitting the person who intervened.

Ciara, the supposedly quiet and unassuming serving girl, hopped in front of me, still in full kevlar armour. With a small, straight dagger, she ducked under the mace swing that would have flattened her skull had it been unprotected. She stood up almost chest-to-chest with the assailant, and did _something_. It was hard to see in the dark. When she stepped back, my flashlight revealed the damage. Her dagger was bloody and the man dropped his weapon to clutch at his neck. A river of blood was flowing from it. Yeesh.

It was such a sight that I barely registered the third man. Until Julie ran forward and planted her axe in the man's shoulder, collapsing him like a house of cards. He grunted his last breath, and Julie pulled the axe out of him. She could be terrifying at times too. Thedas really is a world where people are somewhat casual about killing, a little too much for my taste. Regardless, she returned to guarding the prisoners after giving a pat on the shoulder, which I have to admit I needed.

"We will talk later," I said firmly to Ciara, before waving her off to return to Armen. The mage emerged from the woods to join the others, having done what he was supposed to; watch and intervene if there were any surprises. Apparently, Ciara was his intervention. With that to deal with later, I turned back to the dazed chevalier.

"Ser Duval of the Exalted Plains, I accept your surrender," I said, before taking the offered sword.

* * *

 _AUTHOR'S NOTE: What to say about this chapter... I suspect it may be controversial?_

 _Sam-Julie-Tam was planned from the very start, and to be honest, I've wondered how to reveal it. I'm not sure if this works, but a 'carpe diem' type situation before a battle seemed like the best way. It's pretty damn important for the plot, not just for the romantic involvement of the characters either, so I really hope I didn't fuck it up._

 _It also violates the whole disclaimer I made at the start a little, though the consequences of Sam doing this will be felt as the story goes on. He doesn't have a factory on hand to crank out more stuff for him, after all._

 _Then there's Ciara, who we'll be seeing a lot more of._

 _The next chapter is entitled "The Iron Bull". Three guesses why._

 _ **KiraReaper:** Trouble is indeed attracted to them, but given who they are, how they look, etc etc, they look too unusual to simply pass by unnoticed._

 _ **Meebsterman:** The games don't really explore the life of the ordinary person much, though we get a lot of information from conversation and codex entries about it. It's a feudal, medieval society. Life sucks for most people even without Blights, demons, rogue Templars and rebel mages. I suppose that's one thing I'm trying to play with here. Very glad you like Armen by the way, I had fun coming up with him._

 _ **5 Coloured Walker:** It is indeed hard to proof read one's own writing, which is why I appreciate your help._

 _ **Vixeona:** Absolutely delighted to hear it. Stalk as much as you like._


	12. Chapter 12: The Iron Bull

**Chapter Twelve: The Iron Bull**

There were about forty or so prisoners, including Ser Duval. Dealing with them took hours.

First, we had the wounded brought to Armen for healing. Twenty two of them were what we would call "temporarily combat ineffective" back home, but they were all salvageable. They'd all return to full bodily function in no time. Anyone who had lost a limb or had been hit with more than a glancing blow from the mines was already dead. The mage seemed to have absolutely no problem with displaying his magical talent in front of the prisoners or Ciara, the former requiring his assistance too much to care. The latter apparently had him figured out almost as soon as she had met him, as she didn't react at all when he started the glowing hand routine.

While Armen and Ciara saw to the injured, Julie, Tam and I were busy putting the other prisoners to work. We had them strip the dead of armour and weapons, dividing them into two piles, one for the useful stuff that wasn't too smashed up and one for the shredded items. We had no shortage of chainmail by midnight, that was for sure. Which improved Julie's mood to no end as she plotted to sell it at cut-rate prices when we arrived back in Hearth. Entrepreneur that she is.

I picked up the mace of Dark Mask, as it was the most familiar sort of melee weapon to me. I could use a knife and by extension a short sword, but most of the blades laying about were long, heavier than I was used to. The mace worked because it was pretty much just a metal baton with flanges, and I had trained to use batons extensively for riot control. I added a kite shield with a lion etched onto it as well, for the same reason. Tam had no such issues however, and got herself a fairly substantial one-hander to swing about.

Once all of that was complete, we gathered the bodies and built a large pyre at the roadside. As is traditional under the Andrastian faith, we burned them. Julie sang a chant for the dead, as the flames took the flesh away. She is quite a good singer, but I couldn't stomach sticking around for more than a minute. The smell reminded me too much of Fraser's squad being torched by the fire wyrm. When the embers began to die, I handed one of the casks of ale to the prisoners. They appreciated the gesture, but their eyes were still full of hate. That had me checking my weapons, to be sure I'd be ready if I needed them.

The men-at-arms ate separately, as I invited Duval to eat from the ration packs with Julie and Tam. More of the curried chicken, no less, though we removed it from the containers after cooking it to avoid suspicion. I wanted answers as usual, and a little open bribery never hurt.

"Well then, Ser Milo Duval," I said, "What do you know of me?"

The chevalier had just removed his mask to tuck into his meal, revealing a scarred but kind face and cleanly cut black hair. He looked at me in confusion for a moment.

"What do you mean?" he said.

"Why were you chasing us?" I asked, clarifying in a way that made it clear that I would allow no dodging of the subject.

"We weren't, at least not originally," Duval replied, "When we heard you were on royal business, and that you killed a man in the street for getting in your way, we assumed you were doing something very important for Celene. Perhaps negotiations with the elves, or something to do with the mages. We intended to stop you, on our way to our true task."

"Bet you didn't expect to lose," Julie said, clearly amused. She hates the whole order of chevaliers, so it was quite like her to make them squirm.

"No, we did not," Duval said sadly, "I fear more will die as a result."

What he meant by that, I did not know, but first I needed to assure him of my neutrality in whatever conflict over the throne of Orlais was brewing. It wasn't open war yet at this stage, that only came nearly a year and a half later, but the pieces were beginning to move into place towards that. Questions about what he was actually doing could come after.

"Well, I am not from Orlais. I do not care about your feuds," I said, "In fact, a chevalier loyal to Celene almost managed to have me executed, so both of your would-be masters are equally and squarely on my shitlist."

"What about the man you killed in the street in her name?" he said, "Was that simply murder?" An unexpected question to say the least. I had no good answer for it. I could hardly tell him the story of the huntsman and Goldie, because that would require telling about the dragon slaying incident. The question of how I killed a dragon would lead straight to my weaponry, which he already thought were of Qunari design. I had no intention of dissuading him of that opinion. My mind raced to come up with a suitable reply, but I was already covered.

"He was an agent of that chevalier," said Tam quickly, "I killed him after he threatened us and stole some valuables." Duval accepted that without further question, sending a shiver down my spine. I had a sneaking idea that this sort of intrigue was a lot more commonplace than I had first thought. Of course, intrigue is the lifeblood of Orlais, and not just among chevaliers.

"Are things so bad here that the subordinates of each side are already attacking each other?" I asked.

"It is a dance before battle, nothing more," Duval said, "Gaspard is a warrior, if something does not happen to put him on the throne within the next few years, he will put himself there by the sword. In the mean time, we dance for position and prestige, on behalf of our betters. I am sorry that you have crossed into this, but you have already proven yourself quite adept at survival, I can see."

That was true only because I had vastly superior weapons, which were in limited supply. I had already used pretty much all of the "Claymore" explosives in destroying Duval's troops, and while I had other types, they were among the most useful. There were any number of occasions later that I would have sold my kidney to have some more. What few I had left came in very handy indeed.

"Your squabbles weaken your country," said Tam. If understatement were a country, Tam would be Empress. Who the hell plots a civil war when another war is already on? Orlesian nobility, that's who.

"I know, but squabbles are all that Orlais has now," replied Duval, "This is why I support Gaspard. He would clear away the fat do-nothings that have gotten in the way of Orlais' true glory." I pondered that, as it didn't sound entirely like a bad idea to me. If it could be done without the warring, it was a decent enough cause. Except it wasn't, because it wouldn't stop there.

"He would also invade Ferelden and the Free Marches," rebuked Julie, "Sending us into a bloody war, while the mages create anarchy and the crown does nothing." Her accent was considerably more pronounced while angry, I noticed.

"I thought your friend said you did not have a side," bristled Duval.

"Celene can go to the Void too," Julie growled, "Between the two of them, I wouldn't trust that they could run a brothel, never mind a country. They don't care about anyone but their court." She never was big on the blue bloods, even before she was exposed to Paine and Jefferson.

The chevalier laughed at her assertion, as if it was preposterous. The three of us just looked on, a little startled. I had half-expected him to ask for his sword back so he could duel Julie for the insult, but instead he had a good chuckle. Though I'm not sure one can legally duel a lady who isn't a knight in Orlais. I must ask someone.

"What if I told you that I did care?" he said, with a smile, "And that a threat beyond mere bandits is lurking two days' march from here."

My eyebrow raised at that. Just how damned dangerous was the road south? I'm not sure you can call a country by that title until a person can at least travel unmolested by maniacs and thieves. Otherwise, it is just a tool for thievery itself, albeit on a grander scale. I wasn't the only one with doubts.

"What threat?" scoffed Julie, "Is the pastry supply threatened?" I grinned at that.

"Sylvans," said Duval, "A problem to more than my chef, wouldn't you agree?"

The circle went deathly quite, Julie's face admitting defeat on the matter. Tam's eyes narrowed and she frowned. The mood had gone from heated to ominous in a second, and I was getting rather tired of the bad surprises.

"What is a sylvan?" I asked wearily.

"You do not have such creatures in the Far West?" Duval responded, quite surprised.

"Not one," I replied, "It's not the only thing we're missing either, I wouldn't think too much about it."

"Sylvan is the elf word for a possessed tree," Tam explained, "They're very dangerous, as they can walk around, attack people and use nature magicks. Usually show up near battlefields, there were a few of them on Seheron."

"There were a lot near here during the Blight," Julie added, with a frown, "I remember the townspeople fighting them off."

"We think these are remnants from the Blight itself," said Duval, "They stand around as trees until something disturbs them. There has been a lot of bandit activity lately, we think someone came across them and drew them towards the south road."

I snorted my amusement. Tree demons? Nonsense, I thought. Even if they were real, how big a threat could they be? The others didn't appreciate my levity, at any rate. Also, if you're wondering why I didn't immediately launch into questions about the Blight, I should probably inform you that "blight" has a different meaning on Earth, referring only to a particular type of famine. No darkspawn, thank God.

"Ents with anger management issues?" I said, "I swear, you are just playing jokes on me now." Another fictional species to fray my nerves. If I could slap Tolkien, I would. Thedas has far too many of that sort.

"Ents? Is this what you call them? They are no joke, Marquis," Duval said sternly, "They are attacking people and caravans on the road." Good use of my rank to disagree with me while seeming polite about it, if I do say so myself.

I frowned at the man. I guess I believed the story, it was somewhat easy to as I had already encountered dragons, elves and a mage. It was the idea of a tree being any threat to a person that was the sticking point. Even if they could move about and grab things, people would be more mobile. Even our overloaded cart should have been able to breeze through without a problem, I thought. And nature magic? What was it going to do, spray me with pollen? I was immune to any such nonsense anyway.

"So, you were going to take your hundred men-at-arms south to face these things," I said, "I presume they're not that easy to kill?"

"We were to meet with a mercenary company, who have more experience with this sort of problem, or so they say," Duval corrected, "Maker only knows if they'll survive now."

I breathed deeply, as the inevitable sense of guilt about it all hit me. Assuming it was all true, it meant that anyone hurt or killed would be my responsibility, because I had already put the troops sent to save them to the sword. The buck would stop with me. The temptation to crack open the Earth liquors rode over me as I came to the inevitable conclusion. Conscience can really put the hurt on you if you're not careful.

"I was going to tie you all up and run as hard as I could away... but this changes things," I sighed, "Assuming your men are willing, we will come with you to stop these … sylvans."

Duval looked genuinely surprised at that, his eyebrows arching and his demeanour softening considerably. He wasn't the only one. Julie stopped eating and glanced over with an inquisitive look. Probably because I had just volunteered her for a dangerous task without asking, and wanted to know why. Or perhaps she thought it was a good idea, but was curious as to my reasoning. Tam wore no expression but watched, which I had learned a few hours before to take as her own sign of interest.

"Look, I can't tell you the whole truth of who I am and where I'm from," I admitted, "But because of what I have done, you can't fight those things and folk are in trouble. I'm not going to have their deaths on my conscience as well as those of your men. So, we go take on these trees, and then we part ways as if we never met."

Duval smiled. "I do not think it will be possible for me to forget that we met. I was rather hoping to ask you about your homeland," he laughed, "You are a bizarre, yet interesting person." Said the man who has to wear a mask in public. He wasn't _that_ ugly.

"I'm a foreigner, of course I am strange to you," I replied, "But if I help you out with this, I expect your discretion."

"Then you shall have it," Duval said, "After all, your friend there killed my half-brother, I owe you a debt."

"Your half-brother?" I said, "Who was that?"

"The one who choked on his own blood," he replied, "He deserved it, very much."

The Great Game of Orlais is truly vicious, although I suppose there could have been more personal circumstances to explain Duval's glee at his sibling's death. I'm fairly sure I would feel more ambiguous about the death of my brother, bastard or not. The man's words reminded me of who I needed to speak to next, of course.

I picked up the man's ornate sword in its scabbard, and handed it back to him. He accepted it graciously, and put it quickly on his belt. We finished our meals, and Ser Duval returned to his troops to deliver the news. As both of them seemed to approve of our new mission, I asked Julie and Tam to set up the sleeping bags on top of the cart, while I went to deal with another problem.

* * *

The sight of the wounded was much improved, I noticed, compared with when we had first moved them to the top of the hill. Open wounds were closed and fresh scars had replaced them. Those who were barely conscious an hour ago were now fully so. So to say I was amazed would be insufficient. The medicines and surgeries of Earth can accomplish many things that magic cannot, but sealing and healing would-be lethal wounds instantly was not among them when I left. I do not doubt that my fellow countrymen have such science now, if they have survived these past decades, but it remains a wonder to me. Armen was sat on top of a rock, resting from the exertion of the process, while Ciara distributed their own waterskins to the patients.

"Now it's my turn to be amazed," I said to him, nodding to the laying men and women, "It would require stitches, pills, and weeks to save them without magic. You've done it in a couple of hours."

"They're not healed yet," Armen replied with a smile, "I must continue to heal them during the night to keep the fevers from killing them, or else they will still die. Not an easy death, either."

I looked again, and he wasn't wrong. Every single one of the formerly injured seemed to be sweating, their faces soaking. It was a sign of infection, and that their bodies were fighting it.

"They're infected," I said, "We need anti-biotics."

"Infected with what?" asked Armen, alarmed.

"Germs, microbes," I replied, "You did clean the wounds, right?"

"As best I could," Armen replied, "That is an usual step though, as it helps with the fevers. What are germs?"

I opened my mouth to answer that question, but closed it again. I came up short on how to explain about infections. The biology books that came with me from Earth helped explain later, but I couldn't just say that tiny little creatures that you can't see cause disease. It's all well-known now, germ theory and that. I just shook my head. I had some anti-biotics on hand from the medical kits, but nowhere near enough for the wounded.

"Never mind," I said, "Just take care of them, we're moving out with the group to fight some trouble down the road."

"Trouble?" Armen asked, "We're going to fight alongside them after they hunted us and tried to kill us?"

"Well, when magical trees are threatening people on the road we need to travel on, it's wise to have a few more bodies to throw at them," I said, "Sylvans, or so I'm told."

"Who told you there were sylvans in our way?" asked Armen harshly.

"Ser Duval of whateveritis," I replied.

"What if he's lying so he can capture us?" the mage said, "There are still forty of them."

"He's afraid of us, and he respects me for taking his surrender. I can see it his eyes," I replied, "And if they turn on us, we can still kill them a lot more easily than they can kill us."

Armen grumbled at that, clearly agreeing that we could indeed lay our guests low with ease, but still unhappy about the arrangement. Afraid they'd call the Templars, if his mumbled words were any evidence. It was a fair thing to be worried about. However, he himself had already said that it would take something major to get the Templars to send any real force to the region, beyond Halamshiral's Circle rebelling like so many others. Besides, I had a feeling Duval was a man of his word. The smell of chivalry hung around him. Like he took pride in being noble.

"Anyway, I need to speak to Ciara," I said, "Unless you want to tell me where she learned to use a dagger like that?" She wasn't quite on Tam's level, but she was good enough to dodge a mace and then kill a man in about two seconds.

"She wants to talk to you too," the mage smiled, "Your weapons impressed her."

"Glad I'm so popular," I frowned, "Where is she?"

A hand landed on my shoulder with a playful slap. I groaned, and turned around. Ciara was standing behind me, inevitably, her long blonde hair down now. The dagger was tucked under her belt at her belly, and my eyes found it quickly. I was wary, and took a step back.

"I'm right here," said Ciara, smiling innocently, "What do you want?"

"I want to know where you learned to kill a man like that, is all," I said, "Not here to conduct an inquisition."

My two elven companions looked at each other like I had said something strange. Which I had, in mentioning the Inquisition. At that point, it was an arcane piece of history, not the powerful organisation we know today, which made my expression bizarre to them. I just waited for them to answer.

"She's Dalish," said Armen, joining the two of us after wiping down his hands.

"Armen, try to remember where I'm from," I said. Dalish? Might as well have been Martian, for all that meant to me.

"Another world, right," scoffed Ciara, "Do you tell all the girls that?"

A chuckle forced its way out of my throat at that, despite the cat being out of the bag. Contrary to my expectations, I didn't have the urge to hit Armen for giving away my secret. If anything, Ciara's scepticism made me think she was a little more useful than she had been letting on. Apparently, she had come to the conclusion that she could speak to me as an equal, as the rest of our group did. Smart woman.

"Only the pretty ones," I replied finally, "Works every time." Ciara laughed herself at that.

"Without going into too much history, all of this land used to belong to elves," said Armen, interrupting to explain, "Humans invaded for … complicated reasons, and defeated the elves. Gave them two choices, either convert to Andrastianism or die. Those who chose the first option became the city elves, like I used to be. Those who chose the other one fled to the woods, and became the Dalish."

More death and misery. I was beginning to feel right at home, almost glad that Earth wasn't the only place with a violent history. No wonder 'pureblood' humans feel so superior, they won the war. My own people still rub it in with the Germans, although it's mostly a joke now. Don't mention the war.

"We're skilled hunters," Ciara added, "And we often have to fight off attacks from the shems, so we learn how quick."

"Shems?" I asked.

"Shemlen," said Ciara, "Means quick children, in your language. Our word for humans. We used to be immortal, see."

"So I've heard," I said, "So Armen told you that I come from another world, and you don't believe him?" I was actually surprised she didn't trust him enough to take his word for it. Particularly after what I had shown her.

"I don't believe things unless I see them for myself," Ciara smiled, "Sorry." I nodded. It was a fair enough position to take. And I had photographic proof of my world, so it wasn't an issue.

"Armen, show her the picture book while you watch our prisoners. I'll make a believer out of you yet, Ciara," I said, "And now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to join the others to sleep."

"You're sleeping with both of them, aren't you," said Armen flatly, with a twinkle of mischief in his eye. I snorted at the rhetorical question.

"It's probably more accurate to say that Tam and I are keeping Julie company," I said, yawning, "No complaints though." None whatsoever. Still none.

"You really are a noble," said Ciara, implying exactly what DeSelle had been complaining about. Unable to respond without looking somewhat like a hypocrite, I just shrugged, and left. I was too tired to care.

* * *

The next few days were largely uneventful, and they were pure bliss for that reason alone.

I woke up on our wagon, completely refreshed. Not by the sensation of Tam's horns stabbing me in the chest either, she had opted to sleep on Julie's stomach this time, while I had taken her shoulder. Had to brush both red-brown and silver-gold hair out of my face as I woke. I was enthralled by the sight of the two of them for several minutes, but in the end, I nudged them to open their eyes. We had to get moving quickly.

While they woke up slowly, rubbing their eyes, I found Ser Duval already awake and organising his troops. We nodded to each other, not needing to say anything. We understood each other, as leaders of soldiers. And to think we were trying to kill each other less than twenty four hours before. He was the first reasonable person I met in Thedas. Armen didn't count because he was a mage, Ciara was stubborn and chirpy, Tam was … well, Qunari, and Julie didn't count because she's a step above all of us. So, the honour went to Milo Duval. Of the Exalted Plains. Wherever that was.

Twenty four of Duval's men-at-arms would be joining us, the rest would camp on the hill until a messenger could reach Gethran's Crossing to fetch carts for those who couldn't walk yet. To his credit, the noble had his troops swear to him that they would not speak of how their fellows had died. As far as they were all concerned, the sylvans had killed the unfortunate bastards. I heartily approved, having no need to draw attention to my weaponry. Those who were going to stay behind seemed perfectly happy to agree to this, though it might have had something to do with a cranky Tam wandering about.

We had a quick breakfast of dried foods from my ration packs, which we were depleting very quickly by this stage. Armen and Ciara were utterly exhausted, and collapsed into the still-warm sleeping bags on the wagon as soon as we got it off the hillside. Ciara kept stealing glances at me, but she was so tired that she couldn't turn away fast enough to escape my notice and I myself couldn't figure out what she was thinking. In the end, our journey began without her questioning of my very existence. Which was actually a little disappointing, as I had grown used to being an object of interest. In fact, she never brought it up again in conversation, unless it was immediately relevant.

The few horses that Duval had brought with him had been caught again, allowing himself and his sergeants to ride in front of our cart, following the troops along the road. We took up the rear, where I could bring my firelance to bear on anyone having second thoughts about our temporary alliance. Tam mounted Fritz again, while Julie and I took turns on the reins holding Bob and Lucky, practising my wagon driving. I wasn't very good, but Julie kept us on the road with a corrective tug here and there.

The next two days were uneventful, as I said.

We travelled slower than we would have done otherwise, but not by much. The surviving men-at-arms were old hands at the marching about business, I could tell, even if they were essentially just hired thugs compared with the discipline of what I consider to be a soldier. I was grateful for the speed. Every step was one further away from Halamshiral and Orlais' nutjob justice system.

We made a solid twenty miles on both days by my reckoning, passing by another three villages and following the river. Every hour, we'd stop for a half-hour. I would watch our friends closely, with Tam and Julie sitting beside each other leaning their backs on mine. Julie would read, and Tam would interject as she was trying to learn how to read the Latin alphabet. I guess they both wanted to know more about Earth before showing up there. Armen and Ciara snored in each other's arms from the back of the wagon during the day, snuggled up in the mage's robes, and kept a close watch at night. It was nauseating and adorable in equal measure, though I suppose people could have said the same about my new interests. I wouldn't really speak to them until after we arrived at Hearth, due to their new nocturnalism. Duval and his people kept to themselves as well, for the obvious reason. There was still resentment in camp.

We arrived at our expected destination in the mid-morning of the third day, after about an hour's march from our night camp. I knew we were close when Duval put his mask back on, despite what I assumed was summer heat, and ordered his people to close ranks from their marching column at a crossroads. The trees around us were old and twisted, lacking a lot of their leaves, and there wasn't a lot of other foliage. No bushes and very little grass. The mud was exposed. That was a warning sign in itself, but I was ignorant of it.

I hopped down from the wagon with Julie, and made our way to Duval. Tam dismounted and stayed put, longbow off of her back and arrows threaded between her fingers. She was also on alert, which alarmed me. I turned to Julie, but found her perfectly calm, if a little curious as to what was going on. I frowned, not sure what to make of the situation.

"What now?" I asked, as his people made ready to fight. A profuse number of axes appeared, which struck me as quite a smart choice against trees. I slung my firelance, as I waited for him to speak. Duval didn't answer for a moment, but turned his head from side to side, scanning the woods around us.

"Now we fight, Marquis," he said, relishing the idea.

"What about your mercenaries?" I said, looking around for them. Not another soul in sight. I was beginning to worry.

"Do you not smell that?" he said, ignoring my question. I inhaled through my nose, and sure enough, there was a trace of something unusual. There was a burning smell mixed in with the dry dirt smell that had hung around since dawn. Someone was torching wood. I scanned the horizon carefully for the source, and found smoke rising from the west. A shot of fear went through me, as I realised the fumes were close and looked to be moving closer.

"That way, Duval!" I shouted, pointing, "Julie, Tam, with me."

The men-at-arms flinched, before their leader ordered them to turn and close ranks again in the direction I had indicated. Julie paced alongside me as I returned to the wagon, trepidation on her face.

"What's wrong?" she asked, "Did you spot a sylvan?" I wasn't sure what was making the smoke, but I had seen it come at me before. What followed wasn't a walking tree, that was for sure. I needed to be ready for the worst.

"Something is setting fire to the woods and its getting closer," I said, "Dragon, maybe."

Julie's face dropped at that. Tam, overhearing my words, wasn't amused either. The most fearsome creature in all of creation, as far as I knew, was coming for us. Coming for me again, I should say. Understanding their feelings on the subject completely, I made my way to the back of the wagon, climbed up and gave Armen a soft kick to wake him.

"Get up, we're going to need you," I said, "And I need something from under you."

"What's wrong?" mumbled Ciara, jarred from the impact I had delivered to Armen's side.

"Dragon, maybe," I said, deciding that keeping it simple was best. The Dalish girl's eyes opened to the size of chicken's eggs, and she hopped out of the wagon with her bag. At least one of them was on the ball, at least. Armen simply looked up at me with scepticism, as I tossed sleeping bags out of the way to get at the box below.

"A dragon, are you sure?" he said.

"Well, unless the mercenaries we've heard so much about have flamethrowers, there's a lot more fire around than there should be," I said, not bothering to explain what the hell a flamethrower was exactly. The name tends to be enough explanation if you want people to move quickly, I find. Armen craned his neck to look around at the sky, and soon spotted what I had already.

"It could be a mage," he said, as I undid the clasps of the metal box beside him and opened it.

"Not taking a chance," I replied. I unwrapped my second and only remaining rocket launcher from one of the blankets we had stolen from the prison, and checked it. There didn't seem to be any damage, to my immense relief. Julie looked at it with gleaming green eyes, indicating that she was very interested in the device.

"What is _that_?" she asked, seeming to forget about the threat. I smiled slightly, cheered by her indomitable curiosity. I held the thing out for her to see, once I was sure the safety remained on.

"It's the weapon I used to kill the dragon," I replied, "Well, actually, it's a similar weapon." Explaining the difference between a rocket designed to blow up giant metal war machines and a rocket designed to blow up the equivalent of castle-keeps would have been redundant then, I suspected. Less so today, but it's been decades.

"Yet another marvel of devastation.." muttered Armen, his smile on his face but his tone dark with disappointment. If I were an arms-dealer, I suspect I could have lived out the rest of my days in complete luxury courtesy of his friends. If the way he used to talk about their need was any indication. Of course, he was dead right about their need. Templars are bastards without a doubt, but they are heavily armed bastards at the best of times.

Julie glanced around at the soldiers and the ever-approaching evidence of fire, and stowed her questions for later, her practicality and probably a little fear overriding her need to know at that moment. She tied her long hair back and put her helmet on, before checking the handcannon. I had shown her the essentials other than how to fire it safely, and she was immediately proficient. Her unusual memory playing its part.

Glad that the danger was understood, I tossed Tam her own helmet as Armen and Ciara began up-armouring too. I unslung my firelance again and placed the rocket on my back, before gathering up my freshly looted kite shield and strapping it to my belt on the other side to the mace.

"Okay, here's the plan," I said, "Tam and Armen, you stay back and hit … whatever it is with what you can."

"What about me?" asked Ciara.

"If you can swing an axe, you're with Julie up front. Try not to get burned alive," I replied, "As for me, I'll be around." Trying to get the best shot at the dragon I imagined was coming. It would have been the only chance to stop it, in my mind. If it saw me before I could get a clear shot as its side, I reckoned I'd be dead. Julie had considered this too.

"If we're up front, how are we supposed to stay alive?" she asked with a frown, "Won't it just kill us? If it is a dragon, that is."

"Don't worry, I won't let that happen," I said firmly, "It won't see you until I'm able to kill it, that's what these are for." I slapped my combat webbing where the smoke grenades were, and marched forward along the dirt road to Duval again. He nodded to me when I drew level, and I motioned for him to dismount. He did so quickly.

"I'm going to conceal us behind some smoke, make sure your men are ready to hit whatever comes at us when it comes through," I warned, "You might also want to stay off your horse."

"Behind smoke?" he asked, mask tilting with his head at the notion.

Instead of answering him, I walked past the shieldwall formed along the edge of the road and about ten paces into the forest. I peered through it as best I could. There was movement ahead, but I couldn't pick out what it was yet. Not wanting to wait to find out, I tossed out all four smoke grenades I had on my webbing in a wide arc.

When I was sure I had got enough coverage, I ran back to our little alliance. To my relief, Armen had driven the wagon and Fritz to the back, and stood on top of it with Tam so he could unleash his abilities over the heads of the men-at-arms. He gave me a small wave, as he leaned on his spear-like staff. I waved back, and flicked the selector on my firelance from safe to semi-automatic. Automatic wouldn't do shit, I had learned that at the crash site, but accurate fire to the eyes was a different story.

I joined Julie and Ciara beside Duval's militia. The latter had taken up an axe in her right hand, and held her straight dagger in the other. She looked at me for a moment, before turning her attention back to the wall of smoke. She was grateful to me for bringing her along, I could tell, but she hadn't expected to get into a situation like this. I remember thinking that maybe she'd be happier on Earth.

"Later, you're going to explain how you made that too," smiled Julie, flicking her head at the smoke.

"What do I get in return?" I said, trying to distract myself.

"Oh, I'll think of something," she said cheerily, leaving no doubts as to what she meant by that. I was genuinely looking forward to it.

Until a shrill shriek erupted from the front of us, sending a wave of fear through the ranks beside us. They backed off slightly, which set me off. No way I was facing this crap alone.

"Hold your position, or you're all dead," I shouted at them. No way they were going to be able to fight a dragon or walking trees with magic unless they could get close enough to strike. Doubt they could have outrun whatever it was anyway. They seemed to recognise this, and took a bold step forwards at the behest of their sergeant. Praise the Lord, I thought, someone with a spine. Right on time too, as the thudding started about three seconds either. I was very displeased at the development. I brought the firelance's sights to my eye, and snapped off a few shots into the smoke, to draw whatever it was in. The thudding stopped for a moment.

"Stay here," I said to Julie, "Mind her."

I pointed at Ciara, who frowned at me. She looked about Sixteen to me, in fairness, which wasn't far off the actual mark. Then again, Armen looked about the same, which was only a slightly harsh guess. If it wasn't for the magic and daggerwork, I would have treated both like kids. Regardless, Julie gave me another grin and smiled, infuriating the young she-elf as I stalked off into the smoke again.

The thudding started again.

On well-honed reflex, I ducked behind a large tree in the middle of the obscured area, heart pumping away as you would expect. I looked from right to left around the trunk, the barrel of my weapon following my move. There was some shouting in the distance now too. Was it the mercenaries, or some poor souls stumbling around the forest for game?

"There are voices up ahead," I said over the radio, "Can one of you ask Duval how many mercenaries were there?"

Before the answer came, I saw it. The first of many.

It was... well, it was a tree. Bark, roots, branches. Except the roots were formed into large feet, the branches twisted together like sinews into powerful looking arms, and the bark formed a face unlike anything I had ever seen before at the top of the trunk, forming a head. The face was an incomprehensibly angry one, appearing to me as something you'd see on a psychotic killer taking his revenge. Unsurprising in retrospect. Rage demons are usually what possess trees. I was just happy it wasn't a dragon.

I reacted like you would expect. I opened fire on the thing.

I squeezed the trigger repeatedly, each time making my mark with ease. My firelance strobed through the smoke, the bullets entered the thing's skin, sap dropping out of every hole. Splinters flew off in every direction too. To my horror, my weapon barely slowed the thing down. If anything, it seemed more angry. It didn't move quickly, for which I am thankful every day, but it wasn't alone either. More things that I had thought were just trees began their march towards me. I groaned with exasperation at the sight.

Realising I needed to get back to the group, as my own companions were constantly asking what was going on in my ear, I went with my gut. I snatched a lethal grenade off my combat webbing, tossed it at the closest sylvan and ran off without waiting for the bang. Three seconds later, I was back in sight of the others and there was a nice boom accompanied satisfying screech of pain. I emerged from the smoke entirely, and back to Julie.

"This thing isn't so good against trees," I growled quietly putting the firelance away, "I should have guessed."

"Not a dragon. Well then... I good thing I have an axe," she said slowly, "Armen, I hope you're ready with your Fade-fire."

As if to test our mage, the first sylvan appeared from the smoke and rushed the line of shields, roaring at a high pitch as it did so.

Thankfully, Armen passed the test with flying colours. He sent a spiralling burst of fire bolts flying through the air from the tip of his staff, waving it about like a parade baton from the bench of the wagon. They cruised over the tops of the startled men-at-arms' heads and impacted at various points on the slyvan's body. I was surprised by his speed at summoning them. But not as surprised as the walking tree, which caught fire at a very satisfactory rate at various patches on its body. It tumbled to the ground, trying to roll around to put the fire out, screeching again as it did so.

"Charge!" ordered Duval.

The militia charged forward, axes raised. They covered the ten paces as quickly as you'd expect, and began taking chunks out of the slyvan, hacking parts away before it could get up. The screeching got quieter, and died with the possessed thing. I was just glad that they could be killed that easily, having stood back to see what would happen. I should have destroyed my lungs shouting at them to withdraw, and that failure would cost more lives.

More thudding signalled the arrival of more of its fellows, and Duval ordered the troops to form the line again quickly. Too late. The sylvans waded from the smoke into the disorganised troops with a vengeance, slapping them aside. There were almost as many of the damned things as there were opponents to fight them. The men were rolled over like bowling pins, knocked aside with whips of gathered branches or kicked like a football. Once they were down, the trees began stamping down hard on the fallen, catching three or four before they could roll away. The result was... extremely un-pretty.

I emptied my firelance into the damn things as I backed off, Julie doing the same with her handcannon while she dragged a stunned Ciara backwards too. There wasn't any time for feeling anything, or at least for remembering later how I felt at that moment. It was true fight or flight. We chose the former. So did the others. Duval and a group charged the front sylvan, getting under its swing and hacking at its knees. Which wasn't a bad idea. Others tosses torches covered with pitch at the others, catching a few on fire. Armen followed suit with his magic, and Tam's arrows seemed to bother them greatly. She had poisoned them, I would later find out, with her vitaar paint.

Both our firearms clicked at us, complaining about a lack of ammunition. Just as two of the damn ents waddled towards us. Julie and I looked at each other. We knew what we had to do. Lacking any other good ideas, we drew our melee weapons and charged. It was stupid. I wasn't an expert on arcane crap at this point, so I had no real idea how to fight things like that. We would have died if it wasn't for a particular circumstance, that will become apparent. Julie went for the one on the left, and I the one on the right. Hers was larger, but mine guarded the way to the rest of the fight. They halted, and took the charge head on.

I rammed shield first into the sylvan's leg, and to my utter astonishment, the roots composing it fell apart. Unravelled and limp. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I came alongside the body, which was still very much possessed. As the arms flailed at me, I slammed my mace into it. The wood broke before the metal easily. Too easily. It was like hitting paper, or cheesecake. Best comparison I have would be styrofoam, but no one here knows what that is. Parts of it simply crumbled away where I hit, flaking off the trunk of what used to be the tree. I didn't think it unusual in particular until the demon inside the tree died, because only then did the wood become as hard as it normally would be.

I stopped dead for the briefest moment, realising what had happened. Until the sounds of fighting beside me reached my ears. I turned to see if Julie was alright. She had been joined by Ciara, with her hatchet. They had disabled the other one. I strode over the corpse of my first victim, and swiped at the head of the still-struggling second. The whole top off of the sylvan came clean off with the motion, and I hadn't even put much effort into it. The wood fell still, and creaked as it returned to its fully natural shape.

Julie and Ciara looked at me like I had accomplished an amazing magic trick. Which is actually a pretty good way to put it, though it's more of an anti-magic trick.

"What did you do?" said Ciara.

"I think I know," I said, "No time to talk."

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the rest of the fight was going badly. Tam had hit possibly as many as ten of the sylvans, and slowed them down, but she was almost out of arrows. Armen was looking ragged, at the end of his tether. He had only had an hour's sleep before we woke him, after all, and apparently that affects a mage's power. Problem was it took at least two ordinary axemen to down one of the demons, and even on the ground, they could kill with ease and they did. At least four men I could see were laying dead in the mud.

I decided to conduct an experiment into what I seemed to be able to do. So I charged headlong for Duval. He was in more than a little trouble, caught with two others between four of the sylvans.

As one of the creatures impaled the woman to the chevalier's right, I ran at full sprint into the back of the offending tree-monster, shield raised. I had expected to push it down like the first one I had killed. Instead, it simply splintered apart. Collapsed in pieces with a moan. Which would have been excellent, except it put me off balance. Right between the three other sylvans and Duval.

A branch whipped across my back hard in retaliation. It would have been a lethal blow, despite the branch itself breaking on impact. The sylvan and I looked at each other in confusion. I mentally promised to personally buy the manufacturer of my armour a drink if I ever got back to Earth, before parrying a second blow from the side with my mace. The tree's other arm shattered with the hit, it was now armless. Which was amusing.

The others were actually backing off, to my great surprise and pleasure. Either afraid or not knowing what the hell I was doing that made it so easy for me to kill them. I had to say it.

"Only a flesh wound?" I asked, with a snear. The sylvan shrieked at me, in a tone I can only describe as frustration. A black arrow hissed into the wood, and the creature fell. Tam had found her mark again. I kicked the thing to finish it off, and it fell apart just as easily as if I had hit it with my shield or mace. My experiment was complete. I had a theory.

I looked up to find the entire pack of sylvans, the maybe ten of them left, staring at me. My confidence vaporised, and I took up a defensive stance. Julie pulled her axe out of the third sylvan, having half-decapitated it using my little show as a distraction, and made her way over to me. So did the remaining men-at-arms, using the opportunity to escape to safety. For the moment.

"They're going to attack at once," said Duval.

"No, they're going to start dancing," replied Julie through her teeth.

"Leave Captain Obvious alone," I said, "Get ready." It turns out we didn't need to.

It started with five or six of the sylvans bursting into flames. At first, I thought it was Armen playing with some cool magic of his, until I saw what caused the conflagration of the sixth target. A small, round object had struck it right before it was covered with the fire. It reminded me of napalm, a substance now unfortunately familiar to the world as a result of my actions. The undisturbed enemy count was now a very manageable four. We all relaxed a little, or at least I did. Tam kept up with the arrows, and everyone else drew closer. I stood and watched.

But it wasn't us who did the managing. Out of the smoke, which was beginning to disperse by this stage of the fight, came a group equally as ragtag as our own. There were two elves, one archer and one mage. They emerged first, and began attacking the sylvans from behind. A couple of the ones on fire went down hard from their attacks, arrows and firebolts making their mark, sending the targets spinning to the dirt.

Five more figures charged out of the artificial fog. Three were humans, as far as I could tell. One simply had to be a dwarf, which would have peaked my interest normally, but he wasn't who I was looking at. Not by a long shot.

No, the seven-foot tall giant with huge horns was far more of a draw on my eyes.

He wasn't shy either. He tackled on of the unburned sylvans like a linebacker on a blitz, colliding with its torso and grabbing hold of it, tackling it to the ground with ease. Out came a huge, clunky axe that looked like a butcher's cleaver, and off came the sylvan's limbs and head in a series of vicious swipes. He stood up over the chopped-up tree, and I got my first good look at him.

He was Qunari, I supposed correctly. The horns weren't the only giveaway, and they were different to Tam's comparatively tiny curled ones. They were huge and stuck out of his head like a bull's, appropriately enough. If anything, they reminded me of the black dragon's own set. Same shape. He had grey-silver skin, a short black beard, was physically fit like you wouldn't believe, his ears were pointed, and he had warpaint that I could only assume was a vitaar painted all over him. I could tell this, because he was half-naked like Tam was; nearly entirely exposed upper body, with armoured gauntlets and trousers. One of his eyes was missing, and the scarred flesh was partially covered with a leather eyepatch.

The rest of his fellows laid into the sylvans, tossing ceramic pots at the things before charging home with axes. The pots peaked my interest immediately.

"Greek fire..." I thought aloud, as the makeshift incendiaries burst against the demonic trees.

"We call it Antivan fire," said Julie at my side, "These mercenaries know what they're doing. My step-father used the same thing against sylvans, years ago." I raised my eyebrow at the further mention of her family, but did not dig deeper. The mercs were too busy putting on a show.

And that was the end of the sylvans, more or less.

* * *

You're probably wondering two things at this point.

How did Tam react to seeing one of her former countrymen?

And...

Did he see my weapons in action?

The answer to both came in a single incident, along with something I did on a whim that had very far reaching consequences. We were understandably very pleased to have won, and after seeing to the dead, we camped out on the battlefield and burnt up the remains of the sylvans for cooking. Which probably wasn't kosher, but I didn't care, I'm immune to Fade-crap. Or to be more accurate, I was immune AND anathema to everything involved with the Fade. I would have started discussing this new development with the others, but Armen fell asleep almost immediately after the battle was over, as did Ciara. Dug in like ticks in seconds. So the only person I could talk to discreetly about the issue was out cold.

The Qunari himself turned out to be called "The Iron Bull", emphasis on _the_. He was the leader of the group, which was appropriately called "Bull's Chargers". Some may know them from their association with the Inquisition, along with Bull himself. At this point, they weren't the supposedly holy warriors some think they were. They were just mercenaries. Very good ones.

They camped off to the side of the rest of us, in their own tight-knit circle. Which foiled my plans of talking to the dwarf, to the point that this one wouldn't be the first dwarf I would actually meet. On the other hand, Duval and his men had warmed up to me considerably after seeing how easily I had disassembled the sylvans. I broke out some of the hard liquor and the last of the ale from Ciara's tavern, and we had a pleasant lunchtime booze-up. Julie and Tam were very pleased at that development. That attracted the notice of The Iron Bull.

"Hey, I didn't really talk to you yet..." he said, "But what is that you're drinking?" He had clearly noticed the revelry, and wanted to get involved. The smile on his face said as much. I was all for it, not yet aware of his actual profession. I rolled a log over for him to sit on and held a bottle up.

"Vodka," I said, pouring him a cup, "Try it." He took the cup in his oversized hands, and drank it in one gulp. I winced, half expecting that he wouldn't be able to hold it down. Big doesn't mean liquor friendly. He practically inhaled it and moved his tongue about in his mouth afterwards. Didn't seem like a problem, once I saw that.

"It's … refreshing," he said, "Hits hard though. I like it." His tone was deep and gravelly, as I had expected. He sat down on the log I had provided, which must have been formerly the body of one of the fallen ents. A delicious irony, I remember thinking at the time, parking one's ass on the defeated while toasting their demise.

"Glad to hear it," I said to him, "The name's Hunt. This is Julie, and Tam. The two elves in the wagon are Armen and Ciara. I'm not the leader really... but they are following me." I pointed my finger around the group. Julie gave a small smile and a nod, whereas Tam was doing her neutral face-stare down thing. The huge man's eyes checked out Julie with interest, but when they rested on Tam, his face hardened considerably.

"I'm the Iron Bull... but I guess you've heard that," he said.

"Ser Duval told me after you tackled that thing," I replied, "Said your reputation preceded you. I believe him." Hard to imagine ordinary human beings not taking notice of a mercenary of his stature and calibre. Probably got all the women too, bastard.

"Well, I've done some crazy shit and my people are good at their job," Bull said, with no small amount of pride, "I have my fun."

"I don't doubt it," I said, before downing the dregs of my own drink. There was a silence as both my companions watched him closely, and I kept my eyes on Duval's men.

"So, that was some solid work back there," continued Bull, "Where you come from? Ferelden?"

Tam's face twitched with what I thought was fear for the slightest fraction of a second, before she looked down into her own cup and polished the contents off. My eyes flickered to her for a second, but she didn't return her gaze upwards. Unable to figure out the problem, I decided to answer the man.

"I'm the Marquis de Lafayette," I replied, "From the Far West." Might as well roll with the established lie, I thought. Bull was almost certainly going to talk to Duval at some point later, after all.

"The Far West of Orlais?" he said, not believing it, "It's just a big desert and a stinking forest. And big too. Where exactly is your land?" I smirked, thinking I would be insulted if I was actually from west Orlais.

"Do I sound Orlesian to you?" I said, "And don't say I sound like a dwarf, everyone has already said so."

"So the Far West of what?" said Bull, "Isn't it nothing but wasteland beyond some huge mountains?" He was better informed about the geography of Thedas than I was, at this point.

"For a couple hundred miles, yeah," I lied, "But beyond that, there's an ocean, and beyond that, another continent. That's where I'm from."

Bull frowned and shook his head. He didn't buy it, but at the same time, how could he contradict me? Sure, I might speak the local language, but so did he and he wasn't from around there. My clothing, my weapons, my manners, they'd all be alien enough to convince most. Bull was smarter than that, but lacked any other explanation. Which left him with nothing. No problem to me.

"Is that where you learned to fight like that?" he asked, keeping up the pretence, "Coming over that huge distance?"

"If you mean smashing tree-demons like they're nothing, yes," I said, still lying, "You've probably heard of the Templars? I'm like that, sort of. An explorer." That last part wasn't actually far from the truth. I've had plenty of time to run tests on my ability and that of Templars, and they're a lot closer than I'm comfortable with. Though far, far more capable, and not reliant on lyrium. Never had a chance to test a Seeker. I'm not exactly in Pentaghast's good books, and she's the only surviving one I know of.

"I haven't heard that Templars can do that to demons," he said, eyeing me with suspicion, "But it isn't something I know much about. I know how to kill mages and fade crap, that's all I need to know." A sentiment I could get behind fully. I refilled the circle's drinks, before responding.

"Here's drinking to that," I said, raising my cup, "To killing magic crap." Julie and Bull joined in the gesture, with Tam abstaining. We all drank at the same time. I felt myself warming up, as the alcohol began to affect me, but I suppressed it as best I could. Bull wiped his lips and handed me back the cup.

"I don't suppose you'd tell me where you learned to fight?" I said, "Since we're on the subject."

"The antaam," he smiled, "But I doubt that means anything to you." He was right. It didn't. But his eyes flickered to Tam again, before he stood up.

"Going back so soon?" I asked in jest, "And we were just getting started." I still didn't know much about him.

"It's been interesting, Hunt," Bull said, "I hope we meet again." And we would indeed do so, and in similar conditions no less. I waved him off, eager to speak to the others. He wandered away, shouting at his own people from a distance, merrily. I let out the breath I was holding, and drank again.

The Iron Bull seemed like a good guy, the sort of person I might go drinking with back home if anything, but I didn't like his questioning. I should have thought why he was even bothering, and it would have saved trouble. I just thought he was curious, like pretty much everyone else had been.

"He was big," said Julie, with a coquettish grin that had me snickering again.

"Are all Qunari men that large?" I asked Tam through my amusement, "He was built like a brick shithouse." That got a reaction, a smirk on our own Qunari companion flowered forth. Both Julie and myself were pleased to see it.

"Qunari women too," she said, her smile remaining, "I am actually considered quite small among my people." She had an inch or two on me, and I am not a short man. I'm not sure if I was surprised, as I had

"Is that a problem?" I asked.

"The opposite, it's an advantage," she said, "Because I'm smaller than most, and because my horns are very small, I was considered destined for great things. I would have been Ben-Hassrath, but I'm a terrible liar. So, I was assigned to the Tamassrans, and later exempted from birthing duties."

"Birthing duties?" asked Julie, eyebrows raised and lips thinned. Fairly sure I had a similar reaction.

"Qunari don't have families," Tam said, "But you'll notice that there are quite a lot of us." Yet another reminder of the totalitarianism of her former nation's government and religion. State-run baby farms. It occurred to me that she must have been an important part of that whole thing, until she escaped. Which sent another shiver down my spine, that she hadn't run from it. Of course, there was a good reason for her making that decision later rather than sooner, but I would only see evidence of it later.

Julie drank deeply in response to this, not wanting to think much more about it. Her preconceptions about the Qun had been confirmed entirely. When she was finished, she grabbed the log she had been sitting on, moved it to beside Tam and sat down again. She linked their arms, and lay her head on Tam's shoulder, staring at the fire. I just looked on, watching the expression of empathy. Julie had her secrets too, after all. But there was another thing on my mind.

"What is Ben-Hassrath?" I asked, "And why would being a bad liar stop you from being it?"

Tam's smile dropped, and her features hardened again like before. She looked over at the Iron Bull, as he slapped his thighs and laughed among his merc group. I glanced in the same direction, getting the point quickly. She articulated it anyway.

"He is Ben-Hassrath," she said, "Secret police, spies, even assassins, though there's no way he does that job. It's their job to stop all threats to the Qun, and enforce its laws." Julie's head bolted up and turned at that.

"Wait... doesn't that mean you're in serious danger?" she asked, "What if he finds out you abandoned your position?"

"I think he already knows that I am Tal-Vashoth," Tam said, "Which wouldn't be a problem, he is Hissrad, a spy. Normally, he would not want to blow his cover.. but..."

Tam looked over at me with worry, and a pang of guilt stabbed me. My presence had put her in danger. Even though she was well able to defend herself, even though she could be utterly terrifying, I was very fond of her and wanted to protect her. Julie's fault entirely. I mean, she was easy on the eyes and great in a fight. But until the night on the hillside, she didn't have anything like that hold on me.

"Well, shit," I sighed, "It's me, isn't it?"

"Someone with your abilities in the company of a Tal-Vashoth might be worth breaking his cover," she informed me, "He'll try to kill Julie and I, and capture you."

"I would like to see him try," said Julie, "He'll be full of holes." She did become rather fond of riddling particularly galling enemies with holes, either with her handcannon or other weapons. That's my fault.

"We won't let that happen," I said, agreeing with the blacksmith's sentiments entirely, "Over my dead body will he kill you two. Let's get out of here. Pack the things, I've got something to do quickly, before we go."

"What?" asked Julie.

"Restitution," I said. Not quite knowing what I was getting at, Julie merely shrugged. The two women rose as one, and began grabbing our things off the ground.

I walked over to Duval, who was laughing with his sergeant. As deep in their cups as we had been.

"Can I speak to you for a moment?" I asked. He nodded and got up. We walked a little away from his dwindled group of soldiers, who were very happy to be alive, and leaned against a large tree.

"What is it?" he asked. I pulled out the small bag I intended to give him. It was full of gold and silver, fully half what we had left from looting the bandits. I opened it and let him have a look, before pulling the strings at the top tight again to close it.

"This is for the families of the dead," I said firmly, holding it out for him to take. I had seen what it was like for wounded veterans and those left behind by the dead in my own country. They had support from our government, but often still struggled. I was quite determined to make sure I wasn't seen as some murderous monster by anyone. Not only out of personal feeling, but also with the expectation that the United Nations would soon be making contact with Orlais. Lay the groundwork for diplomacy, being the general idea.

Duval accepted the gift without words, and looked at me through his mask. Eyes peering through me, as if he had not expected this at all. I didn't doubt that, but I felt something needed to be done about the circumstances we had both found each other in. Some might hesitate to give a chevalier a large pouch of valuables with the expectation that they give it to someone else, but Duval struck me as the overly honourable type from the very beginning. Satisfied he'd distribute the money, I walked back to the wagon.

"Good luck, Marquis," he said as I left.

My action would later save the lives of ten thousand people, something so absurd that I scarcely believed my luck. In retrospect, it seems almost inevitable. But that story will be relayed in a later chapter.

By the time I returned, Tam was mounted again and Julie was at the reins of the wagon. Armen and Ciara stirred a little in the back, as the movement started. I hopped up onto the bench beside Julie, and we rolled along, past Duval and his men and towards the main road again.

There to meet us was the Iron Bull.

He crossed our path, and took hold of Fritz by the reins, stopping both horse and rider in their tracks. Fritz neighed nervously, while Tam narrowed her eyes as our assailant rubbed the back of his neck. I quickly reloaded my firelance, as it was still empty from the fight. I could tell this wasn't going to end well.

Bull began speaking in the Qunari tongue. I didn't understand the conversation, but Tam kindly told me how it went almost immediately afterwards. It was brief, at least.

"Tama... Look, I really don't want to do this," he said, addressing her respectfully, "I don't know why you're here, or if you're even still a tamassran. That guy is too interesting to let go. You're coming with me."

Tam leaned down on the horse slightly, smiling in her favourite way. "If you don't want to do this, then don't," she replied, "If you must, then prepare to die." Spoken with venom even I could recognise despite the language barrier. She could have lied, said she was a spy too or something, but she didn't have confidence she could trick someone of his intelligence.

Bull grumbled for a moment, and his grip on the horse's reins tightened very noticeably. A huge muscled arm curled over his shoulder to his back. I wasn't sure whether or not it was to retrieve his axe or to scratch himself in thought again about how to respond, but I wouldn't get the chance to find out.

Julie immediately raised her handcannon, and let off a bullet. A warning shot, thankfully. The muzzle flashed, and bullet buried itself in the ground not far away from Bull's feet. Fritz reared in surprise. He moved away with such force that Tam struggled to stay in the saddle, and the reins were torn from Bull's hand. The packhorses cried with shock too, shuddering a little. A quick jerk on the reins stopped them. Needless to say, the Qunari spy was shocked. His remaining good eye moved from the hole in the mud beside him until it was frozen on the sight of Julie, as she tweaked her aim towards him.

I raised my firelance to cover Bull's friends, as they stood up with their weapons. Faces full of anger on most of them. I put the mage firmly in my sights as the first to go if things went even more pear-shaped. I might be immune to magic, but the others weren't. Nor was the large amount of explosives and volatile weapons in the wagon. Blowing up unceremoniously would have been an irony too far.

"Nobody come any closer, or your boss learns to drink through a new hole in his head!" Julie declared loudly. Not certain that Bull's head was thin enough for her to actually do that, which amuses me every time I think about it. The man in question smirked, and waved his hand to get his people to sit back down again. They obeyed with a little prodding from his lieutenant, though their heads remained swivelled towards us. Tam wheeled Fritz around to join us, as I turned my attention to Bull himself.

"You're not in a strong negotiating position," I said, perhaps with a bit more cheek than I should have, "We're leaving."

"I guess you are," Bull replied, "But you know this isn't going to end well for you, right?"

"We're not going to be around long enough for your threats to mean anything," I said, "We're going back to my country. Good luck finding us." And good luck defeating the armed might of Earth's humanity if you did... I really wanted to believe I was still going home.

Duval rode up on one of his horses, sword out.

"Whatever this is, that's enough," he ordered, "Iron Bull, you are under my employ. You will obey. Marquis, I can't ignore you creating a disturbance either." If there was proof that he was a brave man, this is it. Even after watching us demolish his men and smack demon-possessed trees around like they were made of paper-maché, he intervened.

Bull held his hands up in protest, like he hadn't planned to do anything at all. He backed off to his friends, and mumbled to them. Some were clearly confused about what it was all about. That got me thinking that perhaps some of them didn't know he was a spy, or at least, not for sure. I nudged Julie to lower her weapon and get us moving again. She didn't.

"He should die," she said quietly to me, "He'll find us."

"If he does, he'll die then," I replied, "Let's go home." Playing that card on her was perhaps cruel, but we needed to get the hell out of there. It worked too. She put away her gun and the wagon moved again. A minute later, we were on the road again and out of sight of either Duval or the Iron Bull behind the trees.

I collapsed onto the bench, leaning back, not quite able to believe what had happened. I was glad for Julie's quick reaction. She let out a small laugh to herself as we made our escape, and smiled at me. Tam rode up alongside, deep in thought. We were going to have to talk about this again, I knew.

There was a rustling from behind, and I turned back to see our resident mage leaning over the boxes. "What was that all about?" asked Armen sleepily, his eyes barely open. The noon sunlight was too much for him, apparently.

"Go back to sleep," I said, "You'll need it to hear about the trouble we just dodged."

* * *

 _AUTHOR'S NOTE: Well, there is the first meeting of the Peacekeeper and the Iron Bull... I really wanted to make it a more friendly one than this, but it just wasn't possible. Bull is still a Qunari agent, after all, and he hasn't fought alongside the Inquisitor yet. He hasn't been out of Seheron too long at this point either._

 _ **5 Coloured Walker:** I hope this chapter answered your doubts as to why a hundred soldiers would be chasing a half-dozen people... i.e. they weren't. _

_**RomanceDagger:** I'm fond of Bull as a character too. We'll be seeing more of him._

 _ **Judy:** Thanks as always._


	13. Chapter 13: In the Garden Of Eden

**Chapter Thirteen: In the Garden of Eden**

The journey to Hearth took another two and a half days, give or take a few hours. The half-day left over after our fight with the Sylvans and the encounter with the Iron Bull was one of nervous quiet, weapons held at the ready and glances over our shoulders back down the road where the Qunari spy and his mercenaries might have followed. Or rather, that's how Julie, Tam and I spent the time. Armen and Ciara had taken my advice and caught yet more sleep, designated nightowls that they were. It was uncomfortable for those of us who were awake though. I remember being incredibly tired. Discovery by what all witnesses proclaimed to be a superpower was definitely not on my list of priorities. Nor was it the only superpower with its eyes on me, little did I know.

We made very good progress though, at least. We covered possibly as many as thirty miles before our horses complained loudly enough for us to stop to rest them. I suppose that in itself demonstrates how desperate we were to get away. I wouldn't have let Julie push them so hard otherwise.

We made night camp by the river, in a sheltered area behind large rocks on the shore. A bit damp, but the safety from peering eyes was the real draw. The sleeping bags were waterproof anyway. I was just glad to peel off my armour and combat webbing. Which admittedly felt divine. The summer heat was pretty devastating, mixed with the humidity that poured off the river. We took precautions to insure no one could sneak up on us, noise traps and the like, and prepared food.

The mage and the Dalish rose for dinner. The last of the hot meals from the ration packs, no less. It was yet another milestone on my distancing from Earth, and I knew it too. Sad about just that, I distracted myself from the notion by recounting the events of the early afternoon with the translation help of Tam. Armen's reaction was one of extreme displeasure.

"You mean to tell me that the big Qunari was a spy, and he now knows both about your weapons and your ability to … annul anything remotely magical?" he said loudly, put off his food entirely, "I can't believe it." I thought it a little bit of an overreaction to be honest. Put it down to my lack of knowledge about the new world, and its competing tyrannies.

"Believe," said Julie firmly, "But also believe that anyone who's going to find us is also going to die." She was thinking more along the lines of Orlesian knights than Qunari assassins, I think.

"It is not like the Qunari can send the antaam this far south through Orlais," Tam added, albeit not with a lot of confidence, "At worst, there will be agents sent. In numbers we can deal with easily." Which was true enough. To be honest, with the weapons at my disposal, the Qunari could have sent an entire army and I would have won. Though the second army would have captured me easily afterwards...

"Except I didn't sign up for being hunted by crazed giants as well as crazed Templars," said Armen, "Why don't you send a letter off to Tevinter as well while you're at it, complete the set of murderous insanity!" Ciara put a hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him down. He turned his head to her, and she whispered something into his ear. He released all the air in his lungs and turned back.

"Sorry, I'm just under a lot of pressure," he said, without clarifying further. Which was a little annoying.

"Don't be sorry, it _was_ a disaster," I replied, "We're heading south, away from that problem. It was bad luck. Maybe, if we had gone down the road on our own without Duval, chances are we'd have run into those damn walking trees and the Iron Bull anyway. And we might have died." So it somewhat worked out for us, trading off short term survival for a long term threat. Which sometimes happens, and all you can do is take the consequences.

Armen accepted my response, and began eating again. I nodded my thanks to Ciara, but she just narrowed her eyes at me. Evidently, she wasn't pleased either, but she wasn't the type to express it beyond a bad look. Chirpy ones rarely are. I made a mental note to speak with her at another time, before my train of thought was interrupted by clicking of fingers.

"Perhaps my people can help," declared Armen, his mouth half-full, "We can cover our tracks, and I'm sure that they've got an interest in keeping Qunari noses out of this whole business." He looked at me for approval, or perhaps just to see my reaction to the idea.

I remember being torn. On the one hand, any help to keep people off my back was welcome and I had already thrown in my lot with the mages by accident anyway. Not to mention I was sympathetic to a fault to their cause. On the other, soliciting them for aid would probably bring further trouble to me, or so I thought. In the end, I thought it was a positive on balance. Mostly because I was hoping I'd be out of Thedas or backed up by an unstoppable military force by the time that trouble came to try and bite me in the ass.

"You know what, that's a good idea," I said, "Once we're settled in, send word. Maybe we can work out what I can do to help too." Fateful words, to say the least.

Armen's face lit up like it was Christmas, a sight familiar to many a parent now I would imagine. Well, at least around some parts. The mage was absolutely delighted at the prospect that I would help. I was very glad to see it, hoping it would cure any lingering resentment over the mess I had inadvertently put him in.

"Why not, you already had us clear out a bunch of sylvans," said Julie, head shaking, "But I guess our list of allies is pretty bare."

"The list is empty," corrected Tam, "As much as I distrust saarebas, having them around when the Ben-Hassrath death squad comes would be welcome." Nothing does quite make you seek an enemy of your enemy quite like the words 'death squad', I had to admit to myself quietly.

"I'm glad you approve," said Armen cheerily, directing his comment at Tam, "I'm looking forward to convincing you that we're not all evil."

"You're not evil, you're dangerous," Tam replied, rolling her eyes, "Evil would imply you had complete control over your actions."

"Most of us do," said Armen indignantly.

"Most," said Tam, pointing at him with her plastic fork, "But not all." Her tone was menacing, though less so than it had been at the crash-site. She was still fulfilling her self-appointed role as his overseer. Which, considering what we saw from Qunari saarebas a number of years later, was prudent for her.

"I'm sure anyone that Armen knows is good," interjected Ciara loudly.

We all stopped and turned to her, ceasing our meal-devouring to look. She stared back defiantly, particularly towards me. Like it was my fault the Qunari and the elven wizard were fighting. Evidently, she expected me to try and keep some peace. I don't remember how I felt about that at the time, but it is a role I would fall into more and more as time went on, as did Julie. Peacekeeper in more ways than one, I guess is how to put it.

"You are all in this together now," she continued, "This bickering will get you killed. Stop it."

Tam and Armen glanced at each other awkwardly, and turned to Julie and I with expectation. I had nothing to say. I agreed entirely with Ciara's assessment, and indicated as much with a sharp nod. To be honest, I wanted the tension in the air cleared. There was enough of that about with spies discovering my existence and Tam's location. Julie had more to say, and went over and took Ciara's hands as she likes to do.

"You're right, of course," she said, "We escaped Halamshiral together, we should trust each other more. Give it time, we'll be safe in Hearth." Of course, we wouldn't be safe in Hearth, not in the long term anyway. I'm not sure there was anywhere in Thedas we would have been safe.

Ciara frowned and her eyes rolled upwards as she thought about it, but I could tell that the blacksmith's plea for patience had already convinced the young she-elf. Julie could as well, as she stood up and returned to her near finished meal with a large smile on her face. Armen grinned as well, and even Tam had a small smirk. I exhaled with exasperation, just glad we were a little more united. My mindset was still mostly military, thinking about unit cohesion as much as growing trust between new friends. And lovers.

A few minutes of satisfied eating later, Julie downed the last of her steak and stood up. She yawned theatrically, kneaded her palms and loosened her belt.

"I'm going to bed," she declared, "You two, see you there." A finger flicked between Tam and I, and an eyebrow flicked upwards suggestively. Julie strode off, hips swaying ridiculously in jest, partially undressing herself along the way. Tam and I finished as quickly as possible, positively mauling the rest of our food, to Ciara and Armen's great amusement. Once that was done, we ran off to join her. Both of us were famished for another thing.

Defusing tensions and relieving stress: There's more than one way to do either.

* * *

The next day's travelling was equally as fast-paced, but considerably less nerve-wrecking.

Ciara's little speech had put us all in order, to my great surprise. We proceeded with a new and clear purpose: Our own survival and prosperity. Yet the threat of the Iron Bull following up his business with Duval with a little hunting trip, with ourselves as the prey, had not yet disappeared from our mind. It was less likely by that point, but prudence dictated we high-tail it. So we did, to the dismay of Fritz, Bob and Lucky. Horses have it tough.

Of course, my own mood was greatly lightened of annoying burdens by the memories of the night before. It started slowly and quietly, almost a repeat of what had happened on the battle-hill days earlier, but we finally had the time to continue past the point we had been interrupted. It got a little loud, admittedly, and it was worth every moment. We collapsed into an exhausted sleep afterwards, almost entirely naked, and woke up refreshed. No need for details beyond that. The Earth products came in handy. Needless to say, I felt a lot closer to both Julie and Tam in the aftermath.

The scenery changed in more ways than that.

The forests and little patches of farm fields gave way to vast agriculture, in a way it hadn't before. Fields of crops, tall and small, filled any space not given over to orchards or pastures for cows and buffalo-like creatures that I had never seen before. Not a single piece of land was wasted as far as I could tell. It wasn't all food either, I would later find out. There was flax for linen production, herbs for medicines, natural dyes for clothing, and even a couple of plants for smoking. The river was full of boats and barges in the day-time, the same types that had filled the dockyard at Gethran's Crossing.

I was impressed. It seemed to me that the level of technology for farming was actually pretty damn advanced for a society that hadn't mastered gunpowder or steam power. Of course, the reasons for this advancement were that the Blights had killed off weaker strains of crop and farmers needed to stockpile due to large taxes. The nobles downriver and as far west as Val Royeaux were insatiable in their material desires. I had some inkling of these factors, but the overwhelming picture was one of wealth, at least according to what a society like that would consider wealth. Unemployment or hunger didn't strike me as potential problems there, and indeed they weren't until the real fighting got started.

Thus was the hinterland of Hearth.

During the day, we kept following the river-road, sun pouring down on us, passing by several large villages but not stopping in them for fear of giving ourselves away. Peasants bowed at the waist as we passed, still thinking I was a noble with an entourage of mercenaries. I ignored them, as I thought they would expect, but they got out of the way fast enough to allow our swift passage, so a great number of thankyous got stuck in my throat. Although the sight of Tam riding up on me on a horse as big as Fritz would have made me get the hell out of the way too.

By the end of the day, we were all exhausted. Horses more so than people. Armen and Ciara jumped off the cart at the same time they had the day before, just before sunset, yawning as they did so. Tam and Julie went off to find some meat to cook. Ciara scouted around the new camp, which was in the middle of a thick grove of apple trees by the roadside, while Armen and I saw to the fire. Which gave us time to talk. I had questions, since we were going to be contacting his fellows.

"So... tell me how the Rebellion began," I said, getting straight to the point as I gathered fallen branches to burn. Direct was always best with Armen.

The elven mage smirked and leaned on his staff, swaying a little as he decided how to respond.

"Are you sure you want to know?" he asked, "I know more than most about it, but the knowledge is dangerous." The implication being that he was surprised I would want to put myself in further danger for the sake of his cause. I was almost insulted. Anyone would assume we were working together if they came across us anyway, and so would also assume I knew what he did. I also liked to think I had a little more honour than just looking after my own hide.

"Better to know than for it to bite me in the ass if your friends do show up," I said, "So? Get on with it."

Armen inclined his head to concede, and began speaking. I allowed him his piece without interruption.

"It started in a place called Kirkwall about a year ago, a city by the sea to the north of here. The Templar commander there went mad, due to the possession of a rare magical artefact. She began to persecute the mages there, seeing blood magic and corruption everywhere. During a confrontation with the leaders of the mages of the city, a mage called Anders intervened and destroyed the Chantry chapel with a huge demonstration of magical power. It killed a Grand Cleric, a priestess of great importance, as well as everyone else inside the building at the time. As you can imagine, there was no going back from that. Afterwards, everything just spiralled out of control. A warrior named Hawke managed to get the rest of the mages out of the city before Templar reinforcements arrived to kill the other mages, and Circles of Magi rose in anger after it became clear the Chantry intended to annul an entire city for the actions of one rogue mage."

I frowned. It was a lot to take in. It also seemed like something like this was inevitably going to happen. All conflict begins with one thing; a grievance. The Templars provided no shortage of grievances, and it seemed obvious that all it would take to push a concentrated, solidified group of powerful people over the edge was a zealot doing what zealots do best. Tethras later told me the story in more detail, but we need not dwell on the exact details as they are more or less well known.

"So the anger spread, the recriminations began and hostility rose on both sides," I said, completing the picture verbally. Civil wars of all kinds have a similar pattern, on Earth or Thedas. It seemed unlikely that negotiations could solve the problem. It was too early, the real fighting clearly had not began. I realised this early. Armen's smile faltered at my words.

"It was then we learned we were not people to the Templars, or the Chantry," he said, "Just caged animals for their benefit and amusement, albeit dangerous ones if we were let loose."

"Which ...Circle was it? Which were you a part of?" I asked, wondering if he was present at the start.

"The White Spire in Val Royeaux, the capital city of Orlais," he replied, "I had a promising life ahead of me, until all of this started. Education, good food and drink, safety if the Templars didn't get in your way. The White Spire is as luxurious as any palace."

"Couldn't you have remained loyal, and kept all that?" I asked, surprised that he was speaking well of his Circle. Such things would have given many pause.

"Who knows. Possibly? The debate about whether or not to formally rebel hasn't stopped yet. Only Circles where the Templars will attempt to annul the mages will actually fight until that decision is made. Like Halamshiral," he said, "Even if I didn't feel strongly about our freedom, the mages left there may not be safe even if they stay loyal. I think it's only a matter of time before the Templars try to kill every mage they can. Besides all of that, I wanted to fight."

I grimaced at that last part, doubting he even knew what a real fight looked like. I was also not happy about hearing that my breakout had resulted in an entire group of people throwing their lot in early. Indeed, my actions had sent hundreds of mages fleeing into the countryside, too far from the centres of the rebellion to link up with friendly forces.

"How old are you, Armen?" I asked, looking him over again.

"Nineteen," he replied, smile returning.

I shook my head, but couldn't say anything to him. I had joined the United States Army at eighteen, after all, basically as soon as I had graduated from high school. For much the same reason. I wanted to fight. And fight I did. A year and a decade had passed since that point, and I still wanted to fight, albeit not as a grunt. Armen seemed to know a lot for someone his age, but I remembered he had said there was little to do in the Circles but read and the other thing. He seemed adept at both, and had no problem with flaunting it. Needed some protein though.

"I'm sixteen, by the way," said Ciara behind me.

I nearly had a heart attack, having not heard her approach.

"Don't do that," I said, attempting to admonish her for the stealth. Unnecessary stealth.

"Sorry," Ciara replied, not sorry at all, "It seemed like an interesting conversation."

Which indeed it was. A thought struck me though. Nineteen and sixteen.

"Aren't you a little too young for this sort of thing?" I asked, "You're a child."

Ciara snorted with amused derision at that idea, and Armen had a good chuckle too.

"I haven't been a child for four years," she replied firmly in her lyrical accent, "I don't know how you tell when a girl becomes a woman, but we know exactly when." Exactly the sort of excuse a teenager would make, incidentally.

I shivered, hoping she was only referring to puberty. The concept of childhood beyond puberty didn't exist in Thedas. Still doesn't, despite my best efforts. Putting off adulthood has all sorts of benefits, like not having to worry about babies when you're barely not a baby yourselves. My mild disgust must have been obvious, as Ciara and Armen got even more laughter out of it. I was tempted to slap the latter in irons for statutory, to see if he would laugh then. I had plasticuffs somewhere in my pack. The values of a place where most die before their fifth birthday are inevitably different, I suppose.

Of course, this placed me deep in thought about Julie and Tam, who had to be anomalies where this subject was concerned. Julie was in her mid-twenties by my accurate guess, and I placed Tam at the same age as me, late twenties-early thirties. Neither had children, as far as I was aware. Neither had any of the signs physically. Tam had said she was exempt from birthing duties, but that didn't explain Julie. She was eccentric, but with her beauty and capabilities, she had to have had suitors at some point. An accurate guess on my part. I guess it shocked me that someone as … well, loving as Julie wouldn't have someone, if everyone was getting together as early as Armen and Ciara.

The pair in question returned from the hunt with several nugs, all smiles, and we cooked the creatures for dinner. Didn't taste half bad either. My questions disappeared into the back of my mind, replaced with a desire towards satiating my hunger.

* * *

The last day proceeded at a much more relaxed pace. The sun was even more intense, so I removed my armour and donned gold-rimmed 'aviator' sunglasses. The chance that the Iron Bull and his men were following diminished entirely. I remember thinking that if the giant couldn't catch up with us in that time, I doubted he ever would. This was particularly true as the mercenaries had horses to chase us with, and our wagon meant that even with a day to settle affairs with Duval, they should have found us by that point. To say I was relieved isn't enough justice to my actual feelings.

After all, my only worry would be sitting about, relaxing as I awaited the vastly superior forces of my homeland to arrive to rescue me, all the while in the company of two beautiful, interesting women, possibly with a little entertaining combat against primitives with no conception of heavy firepower. Getting caught on the road with all the good stuff stuck on the back of a wagon would have sucked, but getting caught with my legs kicked up in a prepared position with all the good stuff ready to go was entirely another thing. I was already planning to get a still together at the earliest opportunity, as a side project while I waited.

On another note, the shaded lens and glistening frame of my glasses turned more than a few heads. It had only occurred to me as a good idea to wear them once I spotted the case in a side pocket of my own pack. The sun was very bright, and the faux-gold added an obvious air of wealth about me. Perfect for cavorting about as a foreign noble, I thought. Tam and Julie both had a go at looking through the lenses, and both agreed it seemed very useful. Tam even remarked that the Qunari would probably pay handsomely to have a look at such an invention, as Par Vollen and Seheron are a lot more sunny than southern Thedas. That's how I discovered that we were in the southern hemisphere of the planet, actually. It would be a while before I saw a real map of the known world, as opposed to a rough sketch.

The general atmosphere of activity concentrated, the further we went along. We were no longer alone on the road, not by a long shot. Other carts and wagons, pulled by horses and donkeys of every conceivable colour and shape, joined us. The smell of the air got a little more ugly as a result, from both animal and hard-worked peasant alike. I hoped that hygiene wasn't as bad here as the history books of my world made out about similar cultures there.

It was the middle of the afternoon when Julie waved to a couple of people she knew. It elicited first puzzled looks and then frantic waving back. I thought it odd that they didn't rush over to speak with us. It's not like we were in a hurry either, yet she didn't signal a stop or pull back on the reins.

"Friends of yours?" I asked from the bench beside her, trying to get to the bottom of it.

"Customers," she replied, waving to another, "I'm good at what I do."

"I can imagine," I said flatly, knowing she had a huge advantage over every other blacksmith. She probably learned the techniques after a single sitting of watching someone else, so she should have outclassed all but the grand masters of the craft. Which she could indeed.

"They seem surprised to see you," said Tam, riding up beside the wagon.

"My arrest was pretty public," Julie said, grimacing as she recalled the event.

"How public?" I asked. Out of curiosity more than concern.

"They snatched me in the street, early in the morning without warning in the market. In front of most of the town," she said, "Searched my place, didn't find the coin and weren't bothered to confiscate my goods for resale. It was quite loud."

Which explained the "striking a chevalier" charge on her rap-sheet. The beginnings of panic slipped into my throat as I realised something.

"Doesn't that mean they'll ask questions?" I said, "Maybe even report you?"

Julie shrugged at that, to my dismay.

"With my records destroyed, even the chevaliers who arrested me will assume I settled my debt," she said, "Time for a stop, I think."

Before I could question it, she swerved the wagon off the road, up a very thin lane that weaved away through tall sunflowers. The two packhorses neighed at the sudden change of direction, and Tam had to wheel Fritz around to follow again, causing a bit of disruption to the traffic behind us. Angry shouts came from the road, stirring Armen and Ciara from their sleep along with the jolting of rough terrain. I turned back to see if anyone was following and to check on the ex-sleepers, before addressing the driver.

"A warning would have been nice," I said sarcastically.

"Not as nice as what we're going to," she said, "Trust me."

I grumbled but settled back into my seat, holding on to the edge of the wagon for balance with one hand and keeping my glasses on my face with the other. Non-answers are not something I'm fond of.

Ciara poked her head up over the parapet of the boxes, and glanced around sleepily beside me. "What's going on?" she asked, "Why are we off the road?"

Julie had a little giggle, as she careful navigated the lane. She was leading us _somewhere_ at least. It was about fifteen minutes before she explained, even as Armen added his own inquiries.

"It's time for a wash," she said in a bored tone.

We turned a corner, and beyond was a large rocky pool with water jetting up in the middle of it, like a water fountain with not enough pressure. Or a jacuzzi. It was stuck in smooth raised rock at about shoulder height, shaped sort of like an upside-down plate. Small aqueduct-like pipes carried the overflow off a few yards in four directions to irrigation trenches, feeding the crops without spoiling the spring. They looked, inevitably, elven. The same sort of smooth white brickwork that the bridge we had crossed days earlier was built of. The whole thing was set amongst the high yellow flowers, the space paved in the same way the

Julie's intentions were obvious. "Oh good, no one is here," she said, bringing the wagon lurching to a stop beside the spring itself, wood creaking. She stood up on her seat and stretched to her full height, arms raised up. Which drew my eye, until Tam came riding by on Fritz. The Qunari circled the place, sizing it up.

"What is this?" she asked, looking confused.

" _La source couronné,_ " replied Julie, "Water bubbles up from the ground here for... some reason I don't know, and the elves built this to catch it. Some of the locals bathe here, and I know about it from my step-father." It seemed like a good spot for that, I thought. Its name was 'The Crowned Spring' after all, which I felt was entirely appropriate. It was big enough for twenty people to fool about in. Tam wasn't satisfied with the answer however.

"I meant why are we here?" Tam asked impatiently.

"Who cares," said Ciara, all smiles as she began stripping off and climbing off the wagon. Armen was hot on her heels, giving me a knowing nod. The robes were magically flying off him as soon as he finished the gesture. I rolled my eyes as Julie responded to the question at hand.

"We're maybe an hour away from Hearth now," Julie explained, "But I don't want to ride through town in the daylight. It'll raise questions, ones that I don't want to answer until I'm back home and ready."

"So you thought we'd hang around here until dark?" I asked.

She gave me a peculiar look.

"You've said that before, 'hang around', and I still do not understand what you mean exactly," Julie said, "But yes, we stay here until dark."

"I like this plan," I said, standing up. Not only from a desire to rest, but also as I didn't really want to draw attention to the contents of our little convoy.

"So do I," Julie said, "You are getting a little ripe." I sighed, as she nudged me and jumped off the cart. It was undoubtedly true. Combat, sex, and humidity-maxed heat had taken its toll on my aroma. And hers. In fact, if I had to say so, only Armen maintained complete cleanliness. Probably through some magic trick. I was getting to need a shave pretty desperately to boot.

The others were soon either naked and in the pool, or losing their clothes at a rapid rate. As the thought of real relaxation appealed to me greatly, an idea struck me for enhancing it.

Soon, dressed down to my boxers, a large box and the large firelance in hand, I climbed up to the spring pool. The outside of it was entirely dry and just rough enough to grip well with one's feet. I set the box and firelance down on the edge, and sat down into the water. There was a step on the inside of the pool, presumably for sitting on. It was pretty damn cold, but not quite as cold as the river had been when we washed after escaping Halamshiral. Ciara and Armen chatted among themselves about something, Tam was neck-deep, head leaning back on the smooth edge, and Julie was watching me. I inhaled air greedily for a moment, getting used to the water.

"What are those for?" said Julie, slightly annoyed, "We're relaxing, remember." I smirked.

"Well, this is so I can smite anyone coming down that road in an instant," I said, patting the side of the weapon, "Nothing worse than being interrupted in the bath."

"Yes..." said Julie, "And the other thing?"

"Music," I said, taking out the player and scrounged speakers. Julie's drown vanished, replaced by enthusiasm for my little plan. I set the speakers facing up in the box, and found what I was looking for on the player itself. American classics playlist. I clicked a random song, which turned out to be _In A Gadda Da Vida_. Or, In The Garden of Eden, if you're not drunk.

The guitar riff started up, and caused an immediate reaction. Armen and Ciara's conversation stopped. Tam's head rose from its relaxed position as she listened. Julie sank further into the water, enjoying the moment. I had a good laugh, then dunked my head in to cool off further. The heat was damned oppressive that day.

So that's what we did for a few hours.

Listened to more Earth tunes, sat about in a stone tub, and emptied our heads of the stress we had built up. Every so often, there would be some noise that sent me bringing the weapon beside me to my shoulder, and every time it would turn out to be nothing. It wasn't like the drinking at the crash-site either, which was more about distraction. I could make some off-colour comment about baptism and being born again, but I doubt anyone would get it.

* * *

By the time the sun began to lower itself noticeably, we were mostly out of the water. Ciara and Armen had fallen asleep in the wagon again, where they had laid themselves out to dry. Tam was doing her nakedness-in-sunlight thing like she had before, which neither myself or Julie had a problem with this time. We had seen it all before. Speaking of Julie, she was similarly naked but still half in the pool, sitting close to me.

As you can imagine, I was looking on with a great deal of happiness through my sunglasses. The cover from which didn't fool either of them.

"So, we need to talk about what happens when we arrive," Julie started suddenly, examining her pruned fingers as she spoke. Betraying her nervousness perhaps? It was a rare event for her to display it that easily.

I shifted in my seat, not having expected her to get to that point while we were still there. It didn't seem like her to try and spoil the mood. Tam inclined her head slightly to listen, but remained parked, leaning back on her palms in the light. I had no idea what to expect.

"We do," I said carefully, "So, what will happen?"

"People will wonder what happened," said Julie.

"Why you're free?" asked Tam.

"Who you both are too," Julie added, "And I have a cunning plan."

I snorted, attempting to suppress a laugh at that. Not only because I felt that cunning would be less useful than a display of force, but also for some rather more arcane reasons, which my comment afterwards reveals.

"Is it a plan so cunning, you could put a tail on it and call it a weasel?" I said flatly.

"What in the name of the Maker is a weasel?" asked Julie loudly, crossing her arms in complaint at my supposed doubts. With very intriguing effects on her person. My mirth only increased.

"Never mind," I said quickly, "Your plan."

"The story we will tell is this;" Julie said, "I was arrested, brought to Halamshiral, where you found me and got me out."

"How did I manage to pull off that miracle?" I asked, playing along.

"You bought out my debt hours before the fire," she continued.

"And just why would I..." I started, before noticing Julie's cocked eyebrow. I was confused for a moment, but had a guess pop up swiftly. Something fairly close to the truth.

"I saw you, and wanted you?" I said, "And because I'm a noble, I got what I wanted."

"And I was only happy to comply, seeing that you were a good person," Julie replied sweetly, though perhaps not honestly, "The gold we're bringing will help convince people, as well as the way you act. I don't think we'll have any problems, provided we use the money correctly."

"What about me?" said Tam, "I can't be your betrothed as well, and I am not going to play his servant." Pity, that first part. Completely obvious, that second part. She didn't appear to be in a bad mood, but I guess she was worried about it. Settling down this far south as a Qunari, Tal-Vashoth or not, was a risk I was not aware of.

Julie waved Tam over, and when she was close enough, put a hand on her arm.

"Tam, you're my mistress," she said, "People will believe that."

"That works," shrugged Tam, planting a kiss on Julie's cheek, and laying down on her stomach to continue her sunbathing. The relationship between the two of them was growing too, but I was a little too distracted to take great notice of it at that very moment.

I rubbed my temples a bit, trying to make sense of the detail. The noble-rescues-the-girl story had to be a pretty archetypical story, both in my world and here. Nobles would love such self-promotion, as it makes them look good and keeps peasants from rising in the hopes that their sons and daughters might be lifted above their station. It was the mistress part I was having trouble with. Showing up with both a fiancé and a mistress at the same time, after last being seen in chains? I couldn't get behind the idea.

"How will they believe that?" I asked, "You're a commoner, why would she not be my mistress?" Even if she was, people would have thought I was exactly the sort of noble that commoners hate. Which was exactly the opposite sort of impression I wanted to give off. As long as people thought I was an okay guy, as we say back home, they wouldn't go out of their way to screw with me.

Julie sighed and rubbed her cheek a little before speaking. "People already think I have had a mistress for a few years," she replied, "I told them that, to keep the idiots and bastards away."

"So the story is that you begged him to take me along," said Tam, putting two-and-two together, "And when he saw me, he agreed on the spot."

"That's... actually pretty clever," I said, finding myself believing we could weave the web of lies well enough to succeed. Assuming the details on the mistress angle were solid, it would make perfect sense in a fairytale sort of way. Instead of putting me down for the reputation of the aristos, it exploited the cliché to reinforce our story.

"Only if you can pull off acting like a proper noble," Julie warned.

"So act like an arrogant bastard, but dutiful enough to deflect hate," I said, "I think I can pull that off." And I wouldn't even need to act.

* * *

 _AUTHOR'S NOTE: So, that Trespasser DLC huh? Holy shit. Did not see any of it coming. Irony is that both the events in it AND the aftermath play absolutely perfectly into my plans for this. Very happy about it. Bravo to Bioware. Also, it means this fic may well continue into the next game, if I ever get that far._

 _This chapter is setting up the second part of the Laws & Customs arc, after which we're going to be approaching the Inquisition timeline at a much more rapid pace. Foreshadowing, etc etc._

 _ **KiraReaper:** Trouble loves Hunt you say. I wonder why that is._

 _ **5 Coloured Walker:** Thanks. I had to mention the restitution because it occurs much much later in the story. Could be as many as 100k words away, that chapter. Also, the construction of how it happens I think is rather complex. But that is my opinion of my own idea, so I'll look forward to hearing yours when the time comes. _

_**Guest:** Oooo, the temptation to spoil is immense when you say things like that._

 _ **Meebsterman:** The Iron Bull is a Qunari agent and mercenary when Sam meets him there. I didn't feel there was room for them to get friendly, an entity like Sam is potentially too valuable to the Qunari. I'm very glad to hear you enjoyed it enough to actually shout about it._

 _ **Tactuc501st:** Cheers_

 _ **Judy:** Appreciating the loyalty._

 _ **Comavampure:** Welcome to the party! I was hoping you'd drop in to read this at some point. Delighted you like it._

 _ **Ww1990ww:** Wow, a lot to respond to. First of all, the 'Murica tones are in there for a reason. I don't tend to write anything that is irrelevent to the story. I'm Irish, not American, it isn't a matter of national pride for me. Sam is an American however, and a patriotic one at that. It's important to his characterisation. It's also important for the storyline, as I hope you'll see when that arc comes around. On the Qun, it's implied that many have doubts. Or else the Ben-Hassrath would be unnecessary. Bull never leaves his spy phase only if you take that route in the main game, he can and does stay loyal to the Inquisition in Trespasser if you pick the right options. _

_As for the multi-ship, that isn't there to sex up the plot either. It is an integral part of the story beyond romance. I don't write in a romance unless it has importance to the plot, the same way I don't write in anything else if it's irrelevant. Also wrote it because I love all three characters, so it clicked._

 _ **The world traveler** : Much appreciated, I hope you'll keep reviewing._


	14. Chapter 14: A Noble's Hearth

**Chapter Fourteen: A Noble's Hearth**

At sunset, the sky turned its angry orange and we set out on the last leg of our long journey. All of us had changed into a new set of clothes, as we had no desire undo the good work that the 'Crowned Spring' had done for us.

Of course, one of us didn't have a spare set, and had to borrow from my assorted collection.

Inevitably, Julie was now fully dressed in the uniform of my world, complete with a jacket with all the symbols of Fraser's country and body armour. Her toolbelt had been replaced with combat webbing, on which she hung the rounded helmet off of one hip, and her weapons on the other. With her hair tied back into a ponytail, she probably wouldn't have looked too far out of place back home. Tam had also augmented her clothing with one of my t-shirts, which without the leather and cloth cross-wrapping underneath actually managed to reveal more of her body than before. The temperature had dropped off suddenly and sharply, so I didn't really blame her for making a practical choice there. Ciara donned a padded hunting outfit, which was quite a contrast to the linen serving clothes she had on before. Armen, inevitably, kept his robes with his numerous, well-hidden pouches.

To the eye of anyone in Hearth, I reckoned we might as well have dressed as aliens. I suppose we had, actually, given how strange we must have looked to the common person on the street. As a precautionary measure, I had everyone fitted out for armour again, doled out more ammunition for Julie's handcannon, and broke out the rest of the fragmentation grenades I had left.

Which might lead you to believe that I didn't have faith in Julie's plan. The opposite was the case. If I was going to play the foreign noble, then I had to look as foreign as possible, while playing to the commoner's idea of how a noble acts at the same time. Showing up in strange garb while possessing an overwhelming capability to kill was exactly the right move, both Julie and I agreed. Armen was less enthused, worried about provocation of the local authorities, but I dismissed his worries. If I was a noble, I couldn't hide it. If you've got it, flaunt it, as the old song goes.

It was all part of the scheme which Julie had dreamed up, which according to her, she had pieced together over the course of our entire escape and concerned everything we had to do.

The traffic of wagons and donkeys had disappeared an hour earlier, as expected. Without the benefits of technology, my understanding was that people had to rise with the sun and work until it went away. So we had the road to ourselves, for the most part. There were fires on the roadside where people had set up camp for the night, either too exhausted or too broke to proceed to the town. After an hour of travelling, sometimes with the help of my flashlight, we exited a particularly dense plantation of pear trees.

Hearth was revealed to us in the gloom.

The town was surrounded by a substantial defensive wall, punctuated with round-towers with high peaked roofs. I made a mental note to inspect these in the daytime. Big walls didn't necessarily impress me, as I had weapons that could bring them down, depending on where I struck and the construction itself. They were tall enough to require a siege tower to mount rather than ladders, at any rate. Torches moved along the top of the fortifications, tracing the positions of guards as they went about the business of keeping the people inside safe. The space between the wall and the farmland around the town was a couple of hundred yards, or in other words, an arrow's flight distance. So they could turn besiegers into pincushions with a clear line of sight. The walls ran right up to the river, which appeared on our left.

"By Andraste, it is good to be back," sighed Julie, looking up at the walls. She didn't look happy, just relieved. I wondered if I would feel the same, when I got back to Earth. It was a strange notion.

"Let's hope it stays that way," Tam added, "The hardest part is next."

"I hope the chevaliers are either asleep or too drunk..." said Julie, catching my full attention.

"What do you mean by that?" I asked.

Julie gave me a nervous glance, but didn't elaborate further. The feeling that I would be involved in some gratuitous violence struck me again, as we approached the gatehouse. I shifted in my seat, all the better for firing, and tightened my grip on my firelance. Noticeably so, apparently.

"Don't worry, we have your back," said Armen. The cliché words didn't reassure me in the slightest. Still, the man was trying. Ciara was beside him, not paying much attention to the conversation, directing her full gaze at the guards ahead.

Like the guards at Halamshiral, they were dressed in blue and had masks on, although their face-coverings were a dull red instead of polished metal. They had the same longswords that Duval's men had in great numbers, but no shields. Not that shields would have helped them much. There were only two of them on duty there, and if I had to guess, I would say they were bored. They slouched against the rock, chatting. I frowned at the lack of discipline. After all we had seen on the road, I had expected a great deal more wariness. Testament to my own professional mindset I guess, as their sloppiness was about to help us get by.

As I was in the middle of my mental disapproval of their readiness, the guards were startled as Tam rode up ahead of us and drew her sword. As planned. They went for theirs, but didn't draw before she spoke.

"Make way for the Most Honourable Marquis de la Fayette, Lord Samuel Hunt!" she shouted, mustering all of her authority. Which was considerable. She had been trained to exude authority since the age of twelve, after all. The guards' hands flinched away from their blades, and they looked for the 'most honourable' lord in question. I stood up on the wagon, helmet off and beret on, as they approached with lit torches smoking away.

One glimmer off the gold on my pins and beret, and the leader slapped his subordinate's chest into a short bow. I smirked at that, before quickly turning it into a warm smile for appearance's sake.

"Please, take these as a gratuity for your cooperation," I said, in Orlesian so I could hide my accent, "And for your inconvenience."

I tossed them two silver coins, which the leader caught awkwardly, hardly believing his luck. Julie had told me that was equivalent to somewhere between a week's and a month's worth of wages for them.

"Thank you, milord," he replied in common, "Will you be calling upon the baron? He will want to be informed of your arrival." I guess they weren't entirely incompetent, as they were directing the unknown noble to their own liege-lord for verification of my identity. After all, how many guards could recognise a real noble from a fake when they saw one? My respect for them inched upwards a little.

"Tell him I will be staying temporarily at the Marteau residence in the smith district," I replied, "And that I hope to meet him tomorrow to talk about purchasing some land."

The guards looked at each other quickly on the mention of Julie's surname. She had warned me about this, and had told me to hurry along once our purpose was made clear.

"Good night," I said, "I hope to meet you again." I wasn't sure that I kept a straight face when I spoke, but the guard seemed to accept it. I had only been informed of this particular duty a few hours before. I hadn't quite got my head around it.

We got waved on, through the gate and into the town itself.

"Thank the Maker," said Julie, once we were out of earshot of the gate.

"Told you I could pull it off," I joked. I got a soft punch in the arm for that, causing the wagon to swerve a little in the process.

"So... take us home," said Tam, not appreciating the irony of her words.

"Just follow this street," Julie replied to her, "We're going out of the gatehouse on the other side."

Tam nodded, and took Fritz forward, horse hooves knocking on the cobblestones loudly as they went ahead on the lookout.

The avenue itself was wide enough for two wagons to pass in a pinch, but without room for pedestrians. It was far less grand than that of Halamshiral, but far better than Gethran's Crossing or any of the other villages we had seen on the way. There was no street lighting, but the moons were both full that night, and having two moons makes the night very bright indeed. There were also little lights in windows, as well as the peeking of fireplaces out of doorways. By my watch, it was only about twenty-one hundred hours. People were still awake but paying passers-by no heed at all. The sounds of people talking leaked out of every small tavern and family home, and the smell of the street was greatly moderated by the smell of food and burning wood.

It felt safer than Halamshiral too, despite the similarity of the winding streets. Whether it was the expectation built up or the size of the town itself, it was far less imposing in many ways. Less guards to bother me, yet enough to fend off the dangers of the countryside. Less people to barter and trade with, but enough to get to know. Most importantly, it was the journey's end. As far as I hoped I would need to travel, and a clear landmark for anyone of my world looking to find me.

We passed the empty central square and marketplace, a space flanked on all sides by more salubrious buildings, through another avenue until we reached Tam. She was waiting at the next gatehouse, which was darkened with the gate open and no guards. Julie brought the wagon to a halt beside her.

"Trouble?" she asked.

"There are no guards," the Qunari reported, "Why?"

"They patrol the palisade on the other side," Julie replied, "There are archers in the towers above though, so try not to look suspicious." It would be some feat for Tam to avoid suspicion, given who she was, but we proceeded anyway.

On the other side of the gate, outside the walls again, was another large collection of buildings. They were lower than those inside and had large yards, usually including some form of large equipment. This was the smithy district, I realised. Somewhat of a deceptive name too, as I saw potters and butchers too. I later learned that any business using significant fires had to be outside the walls for safety reasons, with potters using kilns, smiths using forges and butchers smoking their meat. Almost all of the manufacturing was done nearby. The smiths dominated however, which is why the area was named after them.

At the end of the street, I could see a wooden wall, complete with spikes on top to deter climbers. Cutting through it, another gate where the night watchmen were passing the time with a few drinks. Which was recklessness that pissed me off a little.

Thankfully, we didn't need to talk to them, as we shortly pulled into a courtyard between two buildings, one square shaped with a huge chimney and another horse-shoe shaped one. Tam swung Fritz in first on Julie's order, circling around and looking through open windows for any sign of life. She quickly reported to us that there didn't seem to be anyone in.

Julie, Armen and Ciara jumped off the wagon, while I covered the entrance from the top of it. The former went straight for the forge building, undid several chains barring the door and opened it.

"How odd," said Julie after she had a very brief look inside.

"What's wrong?" asked Ciara, "Are all your things missing?"

"No, everything is still there," Julie said in confusion, "I thought I would come home to find myself robbed blind."

Something smashed inside the house, like pottery or thick glass. We all turned our heads towards the windows, trying to spot movement. I saw nothing.

"Tam, ditch the bow and come with me," I said, falling into my usual mindset when I perceived danger, "Rest of you, spread out and make sure no one escapes."

The others complied, which I was very glad to see. We were working better as a team with every incident. Tam placed her bow on the wagon's bench, as I pulled my mace off my belt. No need to draw attention with gunfire, I thought. Not this early in the game. Tam drew her own sword, a weapon I remember considering a "crusader" type as she palmed it. If it was back on Earth. Very appropriate.

We approached the nearest door, and I tried the cast-iron handle. It was unlocked. I grabbed a flashlight in my spare hand. With mace and sword ready, we two most physically imposing members of our group entered the house in deathly quiet. My heart was pumping hard, not sure what monstrosity or evil prick we would find in the dark. When we were both inside on either side of the door, I depressed the activation button on the device with trepidation. White light streamed out.

The scene was a shambles.

The room was a kitchen, complete with cupboards and a sink, though it lacked the plumbing I was familiar with. The stone floor was wet and covered with shards of a large pottery container, which explained the noise we had heard. Alongside the shards was a candle in a holder, the wick smoking gently. A large table dominated the room, where the culprit lay splayed out, breathing quietly on her stomach as she slept, red hair obscuring her face.

My first instinct was that it was a child.

"You've got to be kidding me," I said, putting away my mace again, "Children go around empty buildings, getting drunk?" The notion actually sounded less ridiculous to me once I actually said it, considering the lengths my own people had to go to in order to prevent the same thing. Tam shook her head with a smile on her face.

"You really aren't from Thedas," she said loudly, half laughing. Still, Sleeping Beauty remained just the way she was.

"Oh, ha ha, you guys have more fun, is it?" I said indignantly, pointing at the body, "Going on a binge at her age is dangerous." Not like me to play the moral crusader, but damn it if some things just go over the line. My own drinking was hardly abstemious.

"I think you need to look again," said Tam, her warm smile on now.

I approached the table, and examined its occupant. My mistake was immediately obvious. It was an adult dwarf, and definitely of the female variety. She was dressed in some sort of leather padding that opened near her neckline. I frowned and turned to find Tam's smile had expanded.

"I can't believe the first dwarf I'm going to meet is unconscious, drunk, and asleep on a table," I said flatly.

"Better than one trying to kill you," assured Tam through her amusement, which succeeded in raising my spirits a little, "Though I'd make quick work of this one." Always throw in a mild death threat there Tam, don't let anyone stop you. Tam in action was a thing of art.

I scratched my head, figuring out what I wanted to do. The sleeping woman looked very comfortable, and didn't strike me as a burglar. On the other hand, having a random stranger wake up as we unloaded the Earth weapons and electronics seemed stupid beyond reason. So, with a snort of amusement on my own part, I made a decision.

"Go get the others," I said to Tam, "Bring a bucket of water."

* * *

"She looks so peaceful like this," remarked Julie, hand on chin as she inspected the intruder in the candlelight. We had to light the place up more naturally, as the flashlight wasn't great for filling a whole room with illumination. The battery was limited in power too, which I had begun worrying about. The entire troop was arranged in a circle around the table, as the dwarf continued to sleep comfortably. Just watching, wondering who she was.

"You know her?" asked Armen, smirking, "She's... an interesting one."

"Of course I know her, or I would have already thrown her into the street," said Julie, hand going to her hip, "What she's doing in here, I don't know."

"Is she a friend?" asked Ciara, hopefully.

Julie grimaced for a moment, thinking about how to put it right. I braced myself, knowing that look and knowing it was going to be good.

"How can I say this... She is a colossal bitch," Julie continued, with a wave of her wrist, "But she's _my_ colossal bitch." Ciara looked like she had eaten something sour, as Julie ran her fingers through her hair, probably wondering if she had said it right. I let out a small _heh_ , quite satisfied by the response myself. I knew exactly the sort of person she meant.

"What does that mean?" asked Tam, eyebrow raised.

"She's a business partner that I trust," said Julie, "We have a lot in common." Which I knew better than to probe into.

"Well then..." said Armen, "Who will do the honours?"

"Oh, it's not going to be me," said Julie, hands held up, "I have a business to protect."

"Waking her with a bucket of water is a threat to your business?" I asked.

"Certainly," Julie replied.

My eyes widened at that. "You're right, she is a colossal bitch," I said. Who breaks into their arrested friend-slash-business partner's house, gets drunk and falls asleep on the table. That bitch, I guess.

"I'll do it," said Tam, "If she tries to punish me, she'll regret it." A promise I could believe in, to say the least. Tam having two feet on the dwarf, and probably a great deal more experience opening people up with sharp objects. Or so we thought. I picked up the bucket, and gingerly handed it to Tam, who happened to be standing closest to the target's head.

The Qunari turned the bucket over, and water washed over the table in a brief torrent. The dwarf jumped up as if receiving a shock to the backside, rolling into a sitting position and blowing dripping water out of her face. Her breathing was heavy, the water must have been pretty cold. As a final insult, Tam placed the bucket over the victim's head, and crossed her arms. We broke out laughing loudly.

"My lords and ladies, may I present the lovely Leha Cadas," said Julie, in a stage-play announcer's voice. The dwarf grumbled loudly from the bucket, before lifting it up so she could see who was mocking her. With a scowl on her face. She eventually tossed the bucket away, with a little more force than was required, and rubbed some more water out of her face.

"You're alive," said Leha, "Well, that's something."

My jaw dropped. Everyone and their dog had been right. The woman's accent was so close to my own that could have passed for a local back home. All the talk about my accent sounding dwarfish was merited. But that just brought up more questions... how did that come to be? I added it to the pile of questions along similar lines, like how do Orlesians speak French...

"That's all you have to say?" asked Julie, "I thought you'd be more surprised. Don't you want to hear about my daring escape?"

"Right after I kill the person who woke me up with a bucket of water," Leha declared, standing up on the table. She started cracking her knuckles, eyeing Armen and Ciara. Who she perceived as easy targets, because they were smaller. I would have liked to see the result of that, personally, but the bout was stopped before it could begin.

"Good luck," Julie snorted, pointing behind her friend. Leha turned to find Tam staring at her, hand on curved dagger, her smile turned just as curvy with the addition of bared teeth. Clear anticipation of a fight. They had a staring contest for a little moment, tension hanging in the air as Leha decided whether or not to strike. That is, until the Qunari spoke, her features relaxing with a particular realisation.

"Actually, it was his idea," said Tam, stabbing a finger towards me. I gave her a pleading look, to not make my plight worse, but she just found that amusing and it was too late. The dwarf's attention rolled over to me, and she looked me over. I tilted my head, trying to get a gauge on her thinking, but I couldn't read her. She hid her feelings well, when she wanted to. She was a merchant, I guessed.

"So, you're the one who decided this was a good idea," Leha said, holding up her dripping sleeves outwards, "Too bad for you, I hold grudges." Whoopty-doo, I hold weapons that can mow down whole armies. I almost said it out loud, but caught myself with a grin before I gave away anything.

"Easy, Leha," said Julie, trying to soothe her, "They're friendly."

"I was having a great dream, I'll have you know!" Leha snapped, "You could have waited until morning."

"No, we couldn't," said Tam firmly. Which was right. The dwarf was uninitiated into the secret of my existence, and I had no intention of explaining to anyone else. I hadn't even intended to explain to Ciara, but Armen has a big mouth. Or likes pillow talk a little too much.

"Who's the Qunari?" asked Leha, "Matter of fact, who are all these people?!"

"She's my mistress," said Julie, with more than a little pride. Leha's gaze returned to the silver-haired giantess, with a new atmosphere about it. A lecherous one.

"I thought you were lying about that," she said, running her eyes lengthwise down Tam's person, "Thought you were using it as an excuse to go about the countryside for fun, and avoid the suitors." Bullseye, I thought.

"Well, things have developed since then," said Julie awkwardly, not exactly denying the lie.

"Which means these ones, I guess," said Leha, "A mage, a Dalish she-elf, and a... Fereldan noble?" Her eyes searched me this time, not assessing me as a sexual object, but rather trying to work out what my deal was. Ì narrowed my eyes at her, which did not deter her to my annoyance.

"Leha... this is my betrothed," Julie said, clearly a little embarrassed, "Sam Hunt, the Marquis de la Fayette." I still wonder if she was being shy for dramatic effect or not. I hadn't learned her tells at this point.

The dwarf's eyes flickered about with confusion, moving between Tam, Julie and I. She scratched her head too, practically spinning on the spot. I supposed if I learned that my best friend had come home from gaol with a much-talked about mistress AND a fiancé, I'd be confused too. I had to say something. If this was a friend of Julie's, we'd be seeing more of her.

"It's alright, I'm not a _complete_ bastard," I said cheerily, "Even for a noble." Which was all I could say, given how outraged she was that I had soaked her to the skin. Well, Tam had, on my order.

Leha's eyes widened upon hearing me speak.

"You sound like you're from the deeps near Orzammar!" she said, "What is going on!"

"It is a lot to take in," joked Armen, "Try not to hurt yourself."

"And you! Shouldn't you be locked up in some tower somewhere?!" she said, pointing at the mage. She was still drunk, I finally realised. The mage didn't take kindly to that remark, however.

"Shouldn't you be underground in some damp cave?" Armen rebuked, tip of his staff sparking ever so slightly, "Or perhaps we're both seeking more than the stereotypes provide."

Leha's jaw chewed for a moment, angry but not sure what to say to that. Or perhaps it was the threat of a lightning attack. After all, she had suggested that he should be imprisoned. This woman spoke her mind a little too easily, and it was far from nice thoughts. Though the shock of our arrival, Julie's freedom and an ice-cold bucket of water probably had a lot to do with it.

"Not a very nice way to treat a guest..." said Ciara, "In someone else's home."

"Yes, speaking of that," said Julie, leaning forward, "What in the name of Andraste are you doing here?"

Leha's anger disappeared in a flash, which intrigued me, as her face turned to a neutral pose.

"You were imprisoned, not likely to come back after you slapped the chevalier around a bit," Leha said, "As your supplier, I took it upon myself to take control of your assets and find a suitable replacement as mastersmith so I could continue to trade."

So she moved in as soon as she thought Julie wasn't going to come back, for her own benefit. Lovely. Julie herself didn't seem to mind though, as if she expected it. Perhaps she even had it arranged like that.

"And that leads to you being drunk and asleep on my kitchen table... how exactly?" she asked, laughter creeping into her voice as she spoke.

"It hasn't gone well," said Leha, "None of the other smiths want to use the place, or associate with me, because of the whole hidden gold thing. Your apprentices are out looking for new work too, so I lost them. Oh, and the baron is disputing my right to hold the property for you." The hidden gold thing of course meant hidden income, the taxes on which they hadn't paid up. I began to suspect that scheme was Leha's idea. Not that Julie was incapable of such deception, but she had less malice in her.

"And..." said Julie.

"And I missed you," added Leha quickly, crossing her arms, "By the Stone, you are stubborn one."

Julie smiled, and embraced the drunken, soaked dwarf for a moment. I felt better about things, upon seeing that. They were close, it was obvious. The dwarf even permitted herself a small smile, before returning to her sullen stoicism.

"Isn't that nice?" said Ciara cheerily, "It is good to have friends you can depend on." Regardless of her skills with a dagger or bow, count on Ciara to see some positives. Both Julie and Leha stared at her like she was mad though.

"Depend on her to drink up all my ale," said Julie, "I presume the food is either eaten or gone off."

"Nothing but hard bread left, sorry," said Leha, "Mostly due to spoiling. Didn't have time to buy more." Julie sighed, and shook her head. There was some conversation about what had happened in her absence, stuff I didn't really understand. Incidentally, having no refrigeration sucks. Thank the Maker for ice mages, and mages in general. Living industrial shortcuts that they are. They also appreciate liberty as a political ideal a lot more than most. Or at least, southern ones do. I guess I'm biased, because they can't hurt me.

"Well, we can talk about how I got back in the morning," Julie said, "Go home, get ready for work. We've got a lot to do, and I could use your help."

"Profitable work, I hope," Leha complained.

"Very," I replied, knowing the plan could set us up for life. Even if I thought we wouldn't be waiting that long.

Leha jumped off the table and landed surprisingly easy, for a drunk lady, and walked off in the direction of the door we had entered by. I was about to breath a sigh of relief, when she stopped dead and turned around again.

"By the way, your sisters will be glad to see you are alive," the dwarf said, "Visit them tomorrow."

"I was planning to," said Julie, "When _Lord Hunt_ is visiting the Baron."

Leha let out a laugh at that, which didn't help my nerves. Nor did the reference to me as "lord" anything. "That'll be an interesting conversation," she said, then left.

I turned to Julie.

"Why will it be interesting exactly?" I asked, "Beyond the obvious deception I'll have to play." More convenient details were missing, I knew. Though trying to get them was almost pointless.

"It's... complicated," said Julie, "Just be you, and there won't be any problems."

I wondered if there was an implication that I was to simply blast the man's head from his shoulders. If he made some absurd threat or exposed me, which seemed likely, it would have been the only course of action. I guess she meant I should act natural, though now I am tempted to believe she was flattering me. I determined to do my best not to upset him anyway, because it was her asking. I hoped he was more like Duval than Goldie or Red Mask, the irony of which is substantial.

"By the way," Armen interrupted, "Sisters?"

"I have two younger half-sisters," Julie explained, "They have families of their own, too busy to worry about me too much." I realised that I'd be meeting the sisters soon enough, if the cover was to be maintained. I had mixed feelings on the subject.

"I guess they're not blacksmiths," Tam said, taking a chair.

Julie laughed. "In spite their father's name, they would just hurt themselves if they tried to be." I could only imagine what that meant.

* * *

We spent a couple of hours unloading the wagon, putting the equipment in Julie's basement. Most of it, anyway, the electronics and lights we kept upstairs as we expected to use them. Armen's magic helped a great deal, as he levitated several of the heavier items away. When I asked him why he hadn't done this at the crash-site, he responded that he had been afraid to. Something about drawing undue attention around the Fade-touched helicopter wreck. Which was a satisfactory response, given that I had actually seen demons and had no desire to meet more of them. The books we put into Julie's room, to join a small collection of tomes she already had.

Julie's home was actually fairly big, easily big enough for the five of us. Which of course it was. Her step-father, mother, two step sisters and Julie herself all must have lived here together at some point. That wasn't counting her apprentices either, whom often had to stay there I reckoned. There were three bedrooms on the top floor, and a guest room on one of the ends of the curved building. I would have been satisfied with it entirely, modern conveniences aside, if it wasn't for the image I was trying to create. I very much doubted that any nobleperson, except perhaps the military diehards, would have found the place acceptable in any way. It's not that it was dirty or small or badly constructed, it was just... _common_. It was in a commoner neighbourhood, "middle-class" as we would put it back home, built from common materials rather than smooth, pretty stone, and the smells of industry surrounded it on all sides rather than incense. I regretted that we couldn't stay there for the plan to work.

After a small meal with the remaining cooked nug and the very last of my rations, we went to sleep. Ciara and Armen went away into a comfortable bedroom on their own early on, leaving the rest of us to decide on quarters. We considered splitting up into the remaining rooms. Briefly. In the end, Julie wouldn't hear of it. Her bed was massive to begin with, why would we end our association so quickly? Or so went her logic. I was far from unhappy about the situation. Tam was positively gleeful to be sleeping 'in commune' again.

All three of us collapsed onto Julie's bed exhausted, barely undressed, and fell asleep immediately after getting comfortable. It was Tam's turn in the middle, which I have to say was very agreeable.

Julie and I woke up before her, to the sound of people beginning to work. Metal striking metal, hooves outside, that sort of thing. At six damned o'clock in the morning. I could have killed the workers for that. We both went out into the yard, still half-dressed, though both of us had our handcannons. Julie went to get a bucket of water from a well, while I brushed my teeth with some of the water we already had. Which nearly caused Julie to drop her bucket when she saw.

"What are you doing?" she asked, "Why are you foaming at the mouth?"

I removed my toothbrush from my mouth and stood up over the pale I was using to spit. I thought she had already seen me do this, so I was surprised.

"I'm cleaning my teeth," I said, "Don't you?"

"I don't look like I have rabies when I do," frowned Julie, approaching, "And what is that smell?"

"Mint," I replied, "It's the flavour of the toothpaste."

Julie sniffed a little more, and tilted her head, thinking about something. She rushed off into the house and returned with a wooden container. She opened it and held it out to me. I must have looked at her like she was on something, as she rolled her eyes promptly.

"Smell it," she said.

I did as I was commanded. It was mint, or something very close. "So you chew this?" I asked, getting the drift of what she was trying to show.

"More or less," said Julie, "This is elfroot. It has many healing and cure properties."

"Mint?" I asked, "As far as I know, it just tastes good." Not being a herbalist or alchemist, I didn't really understand why it was used for this purpose.

" _Elfroot_ , and it heals because of a connection to the Fade," said Julie, "I was wondering if it would have a reaction, but it seems not." I grumbled. More Fade shenanigans I could do without. Of course, the properties of elfroot are many and not entirely magical. It is surprisingly effective against microbes, as an anti-inflammatory and makes a hell of an ice-cream flavour. Julie chuckled a little, and I got a warm kiss to pacify me. Which I returned on her neck, teasing.

"So, am I going to hear about your sisters or do I have to wait for another campfire drinking session?" I asked. She shrugged.

"There's not much to say, really. Their names are Élodie and Claire," Julie said, dipping a cloth into the bucket and rubbing her face with it, "My mother remarried after coming here, and had two more daughters. She died giving birth to Claire, and we were all raised by my step-father. They both grew up as normal as could be and got married. I love them both very much, but they are quite busy in their own homes." I was tempted to laugh in pity at her step-father's plight, raising three girls on his own. Couldn't have been easy. It wouldn't have been on Earth.

"How old are they? Do they have kids?" I asked, "Actually... how old are you?" It seemed like a delicate question, but she didn't seem to mind. Quite the contrary.

"Élodie is twenty, and Claire is eighteen. I am twenty-five," Julie said, seemingly happy I wanted to know, "Élodie is pregnant, though it is still early. I wish my step-father could see her now. He died in a siege in Emprise two years ago, during a dispute between our baron and a neighbour." There was pride in her voice like I had never heard before. Without a mother, she would have had to help raise her siblings. That was the source of it, I knew. I would hear such a thing again.

"Are they both as beautiful as you?" I asked, trying to flatter her so the conversation wouldn't get too serious. She laughed at my attempt.

"Even more beautiful, but don't get ideas," joked Julie, "However, I'm the useful one."

"They're useless?" I asked.

"Oh, absolutely," Julie continued, "When they were young, I had to do everything for them."

"You spoiled them," I said flatly.

Julie feigned shock, opening her mouth and giving me a slap on the shoulder. "I did not," she said, "Although I am being harsh. They both work hard."

We finished cleaning up as the sun rose and shone into the place. I managed to shave, thankfully, so I was back to a suitable state for meeting people of importance. The others awoke soon afterwards. Armen and Ciara both had bed hair as they came out, a sprig of black and blonde hair out of place on opposite sides of their heads. They had been sleeping face-to-face, producing the amusing hair sync. Tam on the other hand entered the yard in perfect order; hair combed, sand-colour uniform on, and weapons on her back and hip. They joined us in the middle of the yard, and we exchanged good mornings.

"So, today's the day," yawned Armen, "Are you ready?" He was addressing me, and I would have rather not thought about it.

"No problem," I lied.

"I'm sure you'll do fine," Ciara assured me, "After all, this has to be easier than fighting." That wasn't strictly true, not with my arsenal, but I suppose it carried less risk as long as I didn't overplay my hand.

"You better get dressed," said Tam to Julie and I, "If we keep this... Baron waiting, he won't like it." Men in charge rarely like being kept waiting, that's for sure. Women in charge, even less so, actually. We nodded to her, and went back upstairs to change without another word.

I dressed as formally as possible. I made sure there was no dirt in my rank insignia or on the symbols of my world, that the golden icon on my beret was polished, that my boots weren't out of order. Clean clothes, armour, bayonet, combat webbing, ammunition, grenades, mace and kite shield, handcannon, firelance. I layered myself to intimidate, both with my weapons and my person. It was a trick I had to pull before, talking to tribal leaders and UN diplomatic pukes alike. I was very pleased with myself when I checked the over-polished metal that served as a mirror.

Julie was taking longer, and the reason was that she had opted for a dress instead of her work clothes or the uniform I had given her. I questioned this as soon as I was done with myself, but it was a very elegant thing. It was a deep red, a dark scarlet through and through, with a reasonably wide bottom like you would expect of a dress before the development of the fashion industry.

"I'm supposed to be newly-betrothed," said Julie, "You know, happy and celebrating it? My sisters might wonder what I'm thinking if I don't show up like this. This is Orlais, remember?" As you can tell, Julie might have been a commoner, but she was no peasant either. There is a word on Earth, bourgeois, that applies. It explains a lot of what happened later, that particular fact. Peasants don't tend to be the ones to rock boats, they're too busy working to survive.

"Whatever that means," I said, "Why aren't you coming with me to meet the Baron anyway?"

"Trust me, you do not want me there when you meet him," Julie said forcefully, as she struggled to do the strings up on her back. I went over to her and helped, not able to watch her fight them any longer. Once that was done, I put my hands on her hips from behind, and she put her hands over mine.

"The baron is a good man," Julie continued, "But I am not sure how he will react to this."

"To what?" I asked.

"To the face of our deception," she said, slapping my hands away from her stomach, "Anyway, go wait in the courtyard."

"Yes, Your Majesty," I joked, and left the room.

When I exited the house, Tam was inspecting a newly washed Ciara while Armen looked on, enjoying the spectacle. The horses were watching too, while they ate. Yet another moment where I had to stop and appreciate that while she was an efficient killer, Tam had also been raised from childhood to be a surrogate mother. Ciara was still young enough to trigger her training. Armen probably was too, but he was a mage, so no doting over him. Still, Ciara didn't seem to mind too much.

I sat down on a bench outside, and Tam stopped her fussing to join me. Allowing Armen to move in and make a joke, which sent Ciara giggling loudly. They were an interesting pair, I thought. I was happy for the mage though. He had been through a lot, I knew, and there was more to come. Not sure if I felt the same for Ciara, I didn't see her as prepared for the trouble.

"Where is Julie?" asked Tam, rubbing her hands together.

"Getting dressed," I replied, "How are you feeling?"

"Like I can breath again," she said, stretching out, "Sleeping a lot better than I was before, thanks to you two."

"Happy to hear it," I said.

Tam's eyes went a bit glassy as they regarded me. Before I could wonder why, she leaned in and kissed me. It was not a modest one either. She grabbed my face lightly to hold me in place with one hand, while the other lay on my chest. We got closer, ignoring a hoot from Armen. If only the Qunari kissed more often, they'd win more followers.

She tasted like elfroot.

After a minute, Armen's amusement turned to warnings, and we separated to see what he was trying to say to us. I think we both would have liked to dunk him head first into a bucket, if it wasn't for the figure standing in the way. Someone I did not expect to see until at least the afternoon.

"Enjoying yourselves?" said Leha, "Because I'm going to enjoy this tale." She was wearing linen now rather than the leather of the previous night, a pendant of some sort in silver, but kept the same boots she had escaped the kitchen in.

I was rendered mute by her words. The dwarf's presence was unwelcome, particularly when I was about to set out to deal with someone who was likely as annoying as she was. While our fellow lover was well aware of the attraction between Tam and I, I didn't really know how she would feel about her being left out of this sort of thing. I needn't have worried.

"She knows," said Tam bluntly, "I asked her."

Now it was Leha who joined me in being surprised. I wouldn't have broached that topic in a million years, as it seemed too complicated to me. I had believed the whole thing was natural, but it was not. Tam was not shy about the subject in the slightest, and neither was Julie. They had come to arrangement, leaving little old me out deliberately. I could live with that. The dwarf didn't look like she believed it, but I certainly did. The intruder's rude reappearance was grating my nerves though. I stood up, and she backed off a little. Which was gratifying.

"So, what brings you here?" I asked politely, making sure it was perfectly evident that I wanted an answer quickly. With a little brush of my hand across the pommel of my mace.

"Oh, right," Leha said in a rush, "Listen, you don't have much time..."

As you can expect by this point of this tome, her voice was drowned out. Shouting and horse hooves filled our ears from the street. I panicked. Tam and I drew our weapons, and moved quickly to cover the entrance. Armen spun his staff around, electricity arcing around it, preparing to discharge as much power as he could gather. The selector on my firelance clicked to automatic, and I waited for a target.

Around the corner rode five men on horseback, followed by about twice that number of footmen. Those behind the lead rider were guards. Dull-red masks that doubled as helmets, chainmail covered with blue cloth emblazoned in bright yellow with a tree and a mountain, longswords for the footmen and spears for those on horses. Their leader was much better equipped, wearing partial plate armour on his shoulders and upper torso. His mask was a brighter, enamelled red and encrusted with black pearls along its edge, and he had a sabre-like weapon by his side with a gold-rimmed scabbard. He was on a large white horse, with its own barding.

I thought of two things as I watched them assemble on the threshold of the property. The first that this number of men was no real threat, which caused me to relax a little. There might not even be any need to spill blood. The second thought was of a strange irony; Julie had probably made some of the things these men and women were carrying.

" _You_ are the Marquis de la Fayette?" asked the leader in surprise. I could hardly blame him. I was in full Earth-panoply. So was Tam. He hesitated at the sight of us, perhaps more so than I had anticipated. He had a deep timbre to his voice, but his accent had wavered with the question. I stepped forward, slinging my firelance again, and stood as tall as I could. How I thought a noble should stand.

"Lord Samuel Hunt, Marquis de la Fayette," I said clearly, "And to whom am I speaking?" Laying it on with a shovel is surprisingly effective when talking to people who expect it. Especially in Orlais. He seemed to appreciate the respectful tone.

"Baron Pierre des Arbes, the Lord of Hearth," he replied through his mask, "Where is Julie Marteau?"

* * *

 _AUTHOR'S NOTE: So, proceeding quickly. To be honest, I was expecting to write the full encounter in this chapter, but it turned out more words than I had originally planned, so cliffhanger time. On both the encounter and the rest of Ms. Marteau's plan._

 _ **Enclave93:** Yes, they will meet Varric and yes, they will join the Inquisition. _

_**5 Coloured Walker:** Here's more. I haven't played Trespasser myself, but I got spoiled on it, so I just watched a few playthroughs. I was not happy when it was spoiled for me._

 _ **Ww1990ww:** He doesn't say America is the best. Sam won't industrialise anything. He's a peacekeeper and a soldier, not an engineer or scientist. At best, he knows about war and politics. How weapons and some civil engineering work, how societies work, you're not going to see steam engine trains or things like that. Not because I believe those things are impossible to make in a few years, they are **because magic** , but because of his fear of advancing technology more quickly than political ideas. He's looking to avoid industrialised war and mass murder. _

_I also promise that Sam will not try to change the political structure of Thedas._

 _ **Ripper1337:** That's what I was going for. Also, sort of a riposte to the tons of Self-Insert fics that have people going to Thedas with knowledge of how things are going to turn out. Sam hasn't got a clue._

 _ **SleepiPanda:** Thanks!_


	15. Chapter 15: The House of the Rising Sun

**Chapter Fifteen: The House of the Rising Sun**

I couldn't answer the Baron. I just stared up at him, as if incapacitated by a lightning strike. I couldn't speak and I couldn't figure out why. Worse, there was an almost primal urge in me to object. Of course, as you're reading this you have already figured out why. For whatever reason, the idea of letting him see Julie was offensive to me. It went down to my very bones. I like to think it was my own regard for her, but the truth may be that it was something like male territorial instinct. We are all ugly creatures when what we think is ours is threatened, a truth that everyone has witnessed by now. Embarrassing in retrospect, and very much an overreaction. But we can't help how we feel.

Tam's presence did not help matters, adding an immediate desire to defend her to my fears. She was also an obstacle to what the man wanted. Which almost got people killed. I very nearly twitched the barrel of my firelance upwards when she answered on our behalf, unable to hide my distrust of the noble before me.

"She is inside, preparing to meet her sisters," Tam said, stepping forward with her sword in her hand, "What business do you have with her?" Which was the question on all of our minds.

The baron rode a little more into the yard, and his mask turned from me to face Tam. The Qunari wasn't intimidated in the slightest, and maintained a stance that she could spring from to decapitate the horse in a single motion. If she needed to. This calmed me down a good deal, as I saw that I wasn't the only one who found Pierre des Arbes an unwelcome visitor.

"Who are you?" Pierre asked politely, "A Qunari mercenary perhaps... this far south?" Even with a mask on, he appeared unable to understand Tam's presence.

Which made Leha's next words all the more satisfying. "This is Marteau's mistress," she said flatly, "And before you ask, I was as surprised as you to hear it." It surprised _me_ that Leha spoke so casually to the supposed lord of the entire region. Which made me very interested in a lengthy interrogation.

"I thought she spun that tale to delay me," Pierre said slowly, before turning back to Tam, "As well as fend off less worthy men."

"Perhaps you aren't as worthy as you thought," said Tam cheekily, spinning her sword around and sheathing it again. I determined to reward her somehow for that line, because the baron positively flinched at it, taking high offence at the implication that a commoner would reject him. Unfortunately, Armen gave out a small burst of chuckles despite his best attempt to hold it in, drawing attention to him and Ciara. No doubt there would have been a snarl on the face currently hidden by a mask.

"An apostate?" said Pierre, his tone now far less polite, "I suggest you stop laughing with your Dalish friend, and tell me why I shouldn't fetch your head for the Templars." At those words, several of the baron's men stepped forward, weapons readied. Ciara reacted, pulling out her straight dagger, which I was pleased to see. Tam drew her sword again almost casually. Armen just kept smiling, even as the charge on his staff kept building visibly, becoming like a lighthouse beacon pulsing every few seconds with blue arcs. All of which would have scared the living crap out of me if I was the target, even with my resistance to the Fade. We still had not tested the exact extent of my capability. However, I myself didn't move a muscle, having already worked out the details of what to say in this situation with the others.

"He is in my service," I said, deflecting attention back to me, "His knowledge is invaluable, and I have no intention of searching for another as good as he is." Playing the higher ranked noble, albeit a foreign one, was a dangerous gambit. I looked back at Armen, both to get him to say something along similar lines and to get his confirmation. He just shrugged, and relaxed his stance a little.

Pierre des Arbes wheeled his horse around again, and stopped in front of me. I saw his eyes examine me through the mask. I simply returned the gesture, evaluating the man. He was smaller than I was, but was of a similar build. Fighting him hand-to-hand would have been a pain, I could tell. He sat in the saddle like he had been born there, with ease and in perfect harmony with the animal. His armour was of a quality that might had even saved him from my handcannon, if the bullet struck him at an angle.

Des Arbes dismounted and removed his mask, revealing a handsome tanned face and dark-brown hair. His eyes were startlingly grey however, and piercing without the unique colour in their own right. He wanted to talk face-to-face, I realised. I guess it was my turn to be a little intimidated, but there was no way in hell I was going to show it. We squared off, an ice between us.

"I will ask you, Marquis," the baron said, finally getting to the point, "What business do you have here?"

I smiled, but said nothing, searching for the right words.

"Pierre!" came a surprised call from behind me. The voice being very familiar, I turned around with a groan.

Julie stood at her doorway, both hands on her hips. Her red dress looked dazzling in the low morning sun, the colour seeming to smudge off onto the wall beside her. Her hair was brushed out and looked better kept than I had ever seen it. And she was still wearing my boots. My knees went a bit weak at the sight.

Until the Baron pushed past me, and embraced her.

"Thank the Maker, you're alive and free," he said, "No one would guess you had ever been in prison!" Julie sighed, and returned the hug briefly before separating him from her.

Tam and I glanced at each other. We were both uncomfortable with the display. Julie just looked like she hadn't expected it, or perhaps she just had not expected it to happen in her courtyard. The guards backed off at least, moving to positions to block off the street just out of earshot. I guess they got the picture that it wasn't their business.

"I was only imprisoned for a few days," Julie explained, "Not even enough time to go mad."

Pierre smiled at the joke, unaware of the real events and how she may very well have been driven mad had another been selected for the grim task of breaking her. Which I resented of him.

"How were you freed?" he asked, "And what is your association with the Marquis?"

Julie grimaced, hesitant to tell him the story we had concocted. To be truthful, so was I. In the setting of a formal meeting, I would have been comfortable with it. With a bunch of guys ready to wade into us with sword and spear, I was considerably less so. Presumably, all of them could also be counted on to be completely loyal, so anything he said or did would also remain private, which would not have been the case at his baronial court. In the end, we can always rely on Tam to not care about the little nitpicks.

"The Marquis paid her parole and her debt," the Qunari said, "It was no small amount." Paid in blood too.

The Baron rounded back to me very quickly.

"In return for what?" he asked, "I cannot imagine it was a fair proposition." Phrasing.

I ignored him, looking to Julie for some instruction about how to respond. She frowned slightly, sympathising with my plight. Perhaps to stop the Baron from disbelieving me, or doing something stupid if he did believe me, she opted to tell him the lie herself.

"My hand in marriage," said Julie, "That was what I promised to get out."

Pierre stopped dead, as if frozen by a spell in a statue-like pose. Except for his eyes, which moved between all of us. His face was completely despondent, like... well, like his lover had abandoned him. I doubted their relationship was ever at that level, but he certainly wanted it to be. If his hanging around after this incident is any evidence.

"There were conditions," Julie added, trying to calm him, "One was that I be allowed to keep Tam as my mistress, another was that we would live here. It's not like you'll never see me again, he is sacrificing too. He's an explorer from the Far West, he could have brought me further away than anyone could have followed." She took his hands in hers, which sent a pang of jealousy through me. I'm not sure I would have been cheered by those words, but it woke the Baron from his state of shock. He looked back at me, his sense of superiority destroyed. The change shocked me.

"So I am beaten," he said.

"I'm afraid so," I replied softly, not wanting to rub it in any more, "Though not entirely by me."

His eyes tracked to the sword-wielding Tam. He understood and straightened up.

"Then I give you my sincere congratulations," the Baron said, "I shall take my leave."

"Wait, I told your guards that we had business," I interrupted, "That wasn't a lie."

"The Marquis wants to buy some land," said Julie.

Pierre tilted his head for a moment, thinking about it. His lips pursed, which didn't put much confidence in me that he would agree. Particularly after Tam and I had supposedly stolen his would-be wife. Or so I thought. He put his red mask back on and slipped back into his noblesse, as if his outburst of affection for Julie hadn't ever happened. I took that as a good sign.

"What do you need?" he asked, directing the question to Julie. Which was just as well, because as if I would know anything about real estate in a foreign country, in a feudal society, on a different planet, quite possibly in a different universe. And wouldn't ever have to.

"An estate, with a large freehold and residence," she said, "Something suitable." Which meant something suitable for a 'family' of our social position, I imagined. She wasn't the only one with demands though.

"Preferably somewhere not within sight of the town," Armen added, "I am no apostate, my lord, but there are tensions I would rather avoid." Like people who might call down hell on us.

"Oh, a garden too," said Ciara, throwing in her two coppers.

A veritable shopping list of desired features. I was half tempted to throw in a hot-tub and gymnasium equipment for the laugh.

The Baron walked away from us a few steps, turning his back and thinking about it. After a tense minute, he turned about and nodded, agreeing to the demands. Which I had not expected.

"There is one place I can hand over almost immediately," he said, "But there is a problem. The land is not freehold, it is divided into tithed plots as a manor. And the Marquis is higher ranked than I am."

"And you require an oath of fealty for us to buy that land," said Julie, before I could screw up and ask why it was a problem, "What can we do?"

"Oh, I could let you have it for free, on two conditions," Pierre said coyly, "First, I require an alliance between our two houses. Since marriage is not possible, you will have to swear an oath before the Chantry." It sounded like a pain in the ass, but words are wind and I had firelances.

"Done," I said quickly.

He hadn't expected me to agree so readily, I think. Perhaps because I was foreign, and he wasn't sure if I was Andrastian. I'm not, admittedly, my old faith was one of the few things that I kept from my life on Earth, as passive about it as I was. However, not paying for the land in return for helping this guy for a month or two was very doable, in my opinion. He could hardly object if I broke the arrangement later, with the assistance of UN troops holding him at gunpoint. Unfortunately for him, I would find out less than a day later that my sojourn in Thedas was permanent.

"What is the other condition?" Tam asked.

The question seemed to excite the Baron.

* * *

"What do you mean its haunted?!" I asked loudly.

We were walking down the gravel-strewn road southwards, in the direction of the manor that would apparently be mine by dinnertime. It was only a mile's walk from the palisade gates, yet this road didn't seem to be well-travelled at all. In fact, the only people on the road were my fine self, Armen, Ciara and Leha. Julie had went with Tam to greet her sisters and tell them the 'big news', probably with the Baron tagging along like a bad smell. So the dwarf led us onwards to our destination, talking about the place like it was the gate to hell.

"No one who stays there ever comes out of it alive," Leha said, too casually, "There used to be nobles there, the Baron's cousins, but the House of Repose killed them all in one night about two years ago and the manor passed to him. The two managers he sent disappeared the day after he sent them, and the servants with them. It's a cursed place." The House of Repose just sounded like a band name to me, but if they killed an entire noble family in a single night, I didn't need much explanation beyond that.

"And he wants me to wander around in it until we find the source of the curse?" I said, "He's trying to get me killed. Even if it isn't demons or possessed trees."

"Undoubtedly," said Armen, "It's all part of the Game. He wants Julie, but can't just kill you himself. His prestige is at stake if he didn't at least try to get you killed in an accident." The temptation to go back and put my foot up his ass was overwhelming. I'd like to see his prestige ever recover from that. Though one part of the mage's explanation caught my ear.

"You keep mentioning this... Game like it means something," I said, "What is it? The Game of Thrones?"

The other three looked at each other with a peculiar thought on their faces, as if I had said something far more witty than they expected from me. Which pissed me off.

"That's actually a very good way to put it," said Armen, "It's a game for power and prestige, involving murder, intrigue, spies, and marriage-bonds."

"Every place has something like that," said Ciara, "Even my old clan. It's just that the shems in Orlais take it to an art form, or so they'd say. You don't have anything like that where you're from?"

"In our country, it's money and the love of the people that decides things, usually," I mused, "Which of the two dominates depends on what the question is about." Money tended to decide things more often, though, it has to be said.

"Like Antiva then," said Leha, "The Far-West sounds like an interesting place."

"That it is," I said, not wanting to get into it, "Perhaps less interesting than the murder-trap we're walking into."

"Look on the bright side," said Armen, "You'll have triumphed over the Baron if you live." Which would tickle me, to say the least. Didn't answer the big question though.

"Why does a noble want to marry a commoner in the first place?" I asked, "Is Julie just so beautiful that she can get over that hurdle?" I certainly thought she was.

Leha laughed throatily at that, as if it was a joke.

"He's already married," she said, wiping tears from her eyes, "He wants her as a _mistress_."

"What," I growled, "The bastard."

"He's already married to some noble childhood friend of his, even has kids in Halamshiral," Leha explained, "It was a political marriage, they don't really love each other like that. Or so he told Julie. She plays the Game up there, does law-work for the Crown to increase her standing." I should have gotten more angry, but something had clicked in my mind, distracting me completely.

I had met Pierre's wife.

Cecile des Arbes. My prosecutor, or persecutor perhaps, in the farcical pre-trial proceeding I had went through before our escape from prison. I cursed loudly, thinking myself stupid for not realising sooner. Their family name was the same and they even wore very similar masks. It was just that so much had happened between the escape that I wasn't able to catch it. It was an unwelcome development to put it mildly, and I predicted to myself that I'd be shooting Pierre as soon as his wife came back for a visit. Which I was agreeable to, admittedly.

"Cheer up," said Ciara, mistaking my curses for despair, "She likes you. They both do." They meaning Tam and Julie both.

Those words helped, dissolving my fears instantly. The burning sensation in my head dissipated. Ciara was a perceptive girl, after all. "Thank you," I replied with a smile, "I hope so."

"I think the words you're looking for are 'she loves him', or he would hope so," said Leha, "They're betrothed, after all, even if it does reek of a political marriage as well." Perhaps it was. The plan wasn't for us to actually get married, but rather for us to escape to Earth. Her implication therefore didn't really offend me.

"You're saying that she is using him to advance herself?" chuckled Armen, "I don't think so."

"All I know is that she has both your lordship and the giantess wrapped around her finger," Leha continued, "And she's always had delusions about changing things."

"I'm perfectly fine being wrapped around any part of her," I joked, "Tam too."

"Just as long as you know," said Leha, "I'm here for the profits this is going to bring in. Looking to retire early and live like a queen. Nothing else."

"Then you and I are going to be good friends," I said. Of course, that was more true than either of us could have imagined.

Past a very leafy set of trees aligned in a row at the edge of the forest, the manor itself came into view, stopping our advance.

It was a mansion or a small palace to my eyes. Surrounding it was a stone wall to about waist height, tipped with sturdy metal fence. Beyond that was a courtyard paved precisely in a dark, smooth stone right up until the building itself. From the angle we were approaching from, its layout was plainly that of a thick square. There was a gate on the ground floor that led to an overgrown garden situated in the middle of the complex. There were various outbuildings as well, peasant housing and a stable from what I could see, but there were others I couldn't readily identify.

The building itself looked like it could take a serious hit or two even from weapons I would have been more familiar with, never mind a trebuchet or a cannon. The walls were all grey limestone or something similar, punctuated by tall windows, revealing that it had three floors. The roofs were sloped and covered in blue-black slate. Most of the windows were covered with wooden shutters, painted the same colour as the roof tiles.

It was a god-damned château.

"Well, that's creepy," I said, "It's empty, but it looks like it could hold hundreds of people. Too big." Also looked like every dead idiot from there to Tevinter could congregate, which was what I thought was going on.

"Nothing is too big for a nobleperson," said Armen, "Trust me."

"You types don't live in estates where you're from?" asked Leha, surprised at the revelation.

Afraid to give away my secret, I gave her the truth. Sort of.

"In the countryside, maybe. It's all high towers in the cities," I said, "I lived in the city." I hadn't lived in a skyscraper though. No way I earned enough for a condo in a central location. That's not what I was in the game for, so to speak, though I admired those who were. Like my brother and sister, both of whom were much more money-grubbing than I ever was before I came to Thedas.

"Well, get used to it," Leha said, finding a seat on a large rock, "The house is the last thing you need to worry about, what's inside it is a little more of a problem."

I sighed again. The Baron had said it was best to just take one other person with me to search, because large numbers of people didn't seem to be attacked. In the day time, at least. My suspicion that it was just a ploy to thin out our numbers was practically confirmed by that, to kill Armen and I in particular.

"You and you, stay here," I said to Leha and the mage, pointing at them and then the ground, "Ciara, you ready?"

The Dalish girl had got her hands on a shortbow made of unidentifiable bone and wood, courtesy of the fletcher that lived two doors down from Julie's smithy. Well, not courtesy of, he charged two silvers for it and Ciara had to haggle him down to that. To answer me, she began warming it up with a smile, before grabbing three arrows from a pouch to hold with it.

"Why do I have to stay?" asked Armen, almost pouting.

"To kill des Arbes if I die in there," I joked. He cocked his head with a huh, before seeming to accept it. Leha seemed pretty damn pleased not to be going in, crossing her legs and bouncing the raised foot up and down as she watched us with an attentive visage. Ignoring her obvious lack of real care for my life, I took a breath to steady myself for the inevitable BS to come, before waving Ciara over.

"Okay Scooby Doo, let's go unmask the bad guy," I said, marching forwards, "Need to earn those Scooby-Snacks."

Ciara practically skipped along beside me, not bothered by my joke. If you're confused about what I was talking about, you're not from around where I live. Or lived, if you're reading this a good number of years after I'm dead. Though I hear it's popular in Ferelden. A leak of information I couldn't have prevented.

We entered through the gated archway into the centre garden, myself in front with kite shield and mace ready and Ciara to the rear with an arrow nocked. Some would say this was a bit unwise, considering I had a firelance that could supposedly kill almost anything. However, after my experience with the sylvans and the 'haunted' reputation of the place, I had opted for something a bit more up close and personal, so I could exploit the ability against magical crap that I had gained. Bullets didn't seem to pick up the power, at least at ranges that made that sort of thing useful.

The garden was a jungle of weeds and bushes that hadn't been kept in years, the cross-roads style path nearly disappearing between the verges. Each section of the crossed path lead to another archway leading out, and between them in the walls were heavy doors that were almost certainly locked. On both the left and right, staircases rose from the corners of the buildings and reached over two of the arches, leading to the middle and top floors. I frowned, getting the ominous feeling you get when you know something is going to go absolutely pear-shaped.

"Well, at least it has a garden," Ciara chimed in happily, "It'll be great once it's trimmed." You'd need a chainsaw, my dear. Or a mage.

"Do you think this place has a basement?" I asked her wearily.

"Houses usually do here," she replied, "For keeping things cold in summer." No refrigeration, again. I decided that cutting right to the chase and going for the most cliché place to find the monster or ghost or psychotic killer wasn't what I wanted to do. I pointed at the right-side staircase with my mace.

"Well then, let's try the middle floor first and head up," I said, "I'm not suicidal enough to go straight for the basement just yet."

Ciara nodded rapidly, trusting my judgment. Which made me feel a bit old, but reminded me of the cheerful waitress she had been when I had first met her. I smiled back at her, and we took the stairs to the main level. We could see into the rooms all the way around once we had climbed halfway, but nothing moved. Encouraged, I tried the handle of the rather ornate door. When it refused me, a sharp kick brought it to heel, albeit at the expense of a large amount of sound.

"PIZZA DELIVERY!" I roared as I entered, doubling down on the noise, "DOUBLE PEPPERONI!" Standing in the corridor, I awaited a response to my ridiculous challenge with my shield up and my mace at the ready.

The wood making up the internal structure of the building creaked, including the floor below our feet, but nothing else stirred in the house as far as I could tell. Not even scurrying rodent feet, which I would have expected at the very least. I must have been smirking at my own wit, because Ciara shook her head at me.

"That was a bad idea," she said, her lyrical accent pronounced with disapproval.

"You're probably right, but I couldn't resist... Sometimes you just have to put them off-balance with a surprising line," I conceded, "Shall we take a tour of the palace?"

The corridors were all along the inside wall of the 'square' building, open all the way around and lined with windows. There was evidence that there had been paintings, bookcases or furniture in some places, but the place must have been cleared out of anything particularly valuable. There were no less than thirty six rooms on the middle floor. Most of them still had bed-frames without bedding, but little else. Some couches covered in sheets were left, sometimes ajar from where they should have been. Fireplaces still had unburned wood in them.

My overall impression was of a rush job to get as much out of the place as possible.

Despite the neglect, the paint and walls were holding up very well. There seemed to be no real peeling, just some fading of the colours where the sun could reach the wall during the day. No wildlife had got in either, from the missing smells. It was just wood in the air. What I found peculiar was a complete lack of dust in the place. I ran my finger over the headboard of a bed in the first room we checked out, and it came back pretty clean.

As for my impressions of the place as a potential home, it was definitely what we'd call a fixer-upper. I didn't think we'd ever be able to buy enough furniture to put into a place like this, and nor would we need to for a mere few months' stay. It was extremely extravagant, to say the least. Without more people, it would be a strangely lonely place too. However, with Armen potentially going to contact the mages, there would probably be a few more people around the place. Not to mention that the Baron talked of 'vassals', about which I had no idea at that point.

We completed the sweep of the middle floor, and still not feeling up to getting down to the basement, I directed us up a spiral staircase in the northwest corner of the building to check on the top floor. It was pretty much identical to the floor below, down to the room placements, except that the roof slanted inwards in each of the bedrooms.

"Nothing," said Ciara, as we checked what had to be the sixtieth door, not even bothering to enter the rooms at this point. She was getting frustrated, to my alarm.

"Tell me," I began, wanting to know why she was displeased at not finding ghosts, "Why did you leave your clan?" Armen had filled me in a little on the Dalish, and it seemed unlikely that members of groups like that would just up and leave.

"Adventure," said Ciara, looking into another room down the corridor, "I guess I.."

She didn't get to finish the sentence.

A loud groan of wood erupted from above, which saved my life. As I turned, shield up, a huge insect jumped down onto me. A spider, the size of which I had never seen before. My blood filled with fear and shock, as its weight slammed me to the ground on my back. Clusters of eyes stuck into a black carapace stared at me angrily, pincers making up its mouth snapping at my chest.

I struggled desperately to put the shield between me and the maw of the thing, the metal screeching with every glancing blow. Its front legs manoeuvred to pin me down, but swift kicks and strikes with my mace dissuaded that. I didn't seem to do much more though, the mace wasn't the ideal weapon to fight with from the ground. I couldn't get a full swing off to do some real damage, but if I dropped it for my handcannon, the spider would have been on me in milliseconds. I cursed like a sailor, streaming the insults off as I fought for my life.

A white-fletched arrow hissed into the spider's maw as its head drew back for another strike. The monster didn't make any noise, but it recoiled backwards in pain nonetheless, helped along with another kick from me. I scrambled away from it, as Ciara loosed another arrow into it. To my immense relief, she made her mark well, striking one of its eye-clusters. It shuddered on the spot, which sent a bolt of fear down my spine. My response was to unsling my firelance and aim, with the intention of putting five rounds rapid into the thing before it recovered and then gloating.

However, it could sense the danger, and scurried back the way it had came. Up an unfolding wooden stairway leading to a dark attic, twitching and scrabbling as it moved. I slapped myself on the helmet for my now-revealed mistake. _Of course_ the attic was a candidate location for where something would be hiding I thought to myself, positively startled by my own stupidity. Ciara approached, third arrow nocked and peered up. I was busy sucking in as much oxygen as I could, settling myself down a little.

"It nearly got you," she said, all business now, "Nasty thing." I was absolutely certain I'd be having nightmares about the moment for years to come, which made my appreciation of her presence all the greater.

"Yeah, I owe you big-time for this," I said, doubling over and breathing hard, "Thanks for saving my big dumb ass."

"My pleasure," said Ciara, "Fight's not over yet, it'll hide up there until we draw it out."

I had an idea about just leaving it up there until it bled to death. Its wounds weren't the kind you recover from. Except the doubts at the back of my head reminded me that I wasn't on Earth, and that the monstrous spider might even now be recovering from its wounds. Which meant we had to deal with it sooner, rather than later.

"So much for the haunted theory," I said with a frown, "We're going up there, unless it's a bad idea?"

Ciara shook her head. "I've only seen giant spiders in forests and caves," she said, "Only thing for it is to get in and destroy the nest."

Nest? Wonderful.

"Are there more than one of them?" I asked.

"That one was carrying an egg-sack, so I don't think so," said Ciara, not sounding sure. Which did little to reassure me. I hadn't seen any eggs. Just murderous eyes and too much pincer.

"I'll draw it out," I said, "You shoot from the stairs." I really didn't want to, but the thought of using a sixteen year old as bait for a carnivorous spider would have been more grating on my sense of self. With nothing else for it, I snapped my flashlight onto the barrel of my firelance, turned it on and began climbing. The wood groaned again under my weight, announcing my presence.

The attic was as large as the corridor below, the roof slanting on two sides. It was ribbed with both large wooden supports and chimneys ascending from the fireplaces below. I had expected to see desiccated husks of dead human beings, but none were there. If I stood in the exact middle of the space, I had just enough room to stand up comfortably under the slate and wood to see. Ciara came up behind me, her eyes glinting slightly in the darkness as elvish eyes tend to do. Relying on her to cover my back, I aimed down to the corner directly in front of me.

Sure enough, there the spider was, writhing in pain. It must have hit the arrows stuck inside of it off of something, because it was bleeding far more profusely than before. Infuriated that it had put me in a compromised position, I raised my firelance once more and shot it once. The bullet went through-and-through, impacting the wood behind with a thud followed by a splatter of blood. I had hit the bulbous part of its body, and it collapsed dead. I fired a few more shots for good measure on reflex, for my own gratification.

"Hunt!" shouted Ciara from the gloom behind me. I spun around, just in time to illuminate another giant spider. I couldn't get a clear shot past without hitting her, to my distress. I thought the thing would be on her, her bow unable to hurt it enough. I scrambled forwards. She proved more able.

The young Dalish huntress loosed an arrow. It whispered over her gloved hand and straight into the middle of the spider's … face. The creeping sprint that it had been in the middle of suddenly veered off to the side, and to my astonishment, the spider impacted a pair of shutters and tumbled out of the window. The attic flooded with sunlight as we stood for a moment, not sure what exactly had happened. Until Ciara turned around to me, a big smile on her face.

"That was a good shot, wasn't it?" she asked happily, "Didn't think it would jump out the window though."

I laughed, all my fears released by the sheer absurdity of what had happened and Ciara's own oblivious confidence. Armen was a luckier man than I had previously thought.

"You probably hit its brain," I said, "Put an arrow through my head, and I might accidentally jump out a window too." Ciara laughed again at that.

I strode over, put on my sunglasses and had a look down. The spider was below on the stone patio, laying on its back gravely wounded but still alive. A chance to exact revenge.

"Help me drag that other one over here," I said to Ciara, "And we'll finish up."

* * *

With some difficulty, we tossed the dead spider out of the window and shut it again, before descending again to the courtyard. A few glances down the stairs showed that there were what I thought were storerooms on the ground floor, and basements below that. No more spiders, thank God. I could live a thousand years and it would still be too early to see more of them. Too bad I would.

Ciara and I exited the overgrown garden through the archway just behind where the spiders had fallen, which happened to be the same one we entered from. Armen and Leha looked over, and I gave them a small wave to hurry them closer.

"Spiders?" Armen asked, gingerly poking one of the monsters' bodies with the end of his staff, "So, no curse?"

"Looks like it," I replied, "They were hiding in the attic."

"No bodies either," said Ciara, "Wonder where they put them?"

"Probably dumped them somewhere outside," said Leha, "Surface spiders tend to do that, to keep the nest clear."

"I wonder how they got in there," I said, looking up at the windows, "The place was locked up tight before we came along."

"The House of Repose," Leha mused, "They could have left the spiders as hatchlings, they sometimes leave nasty surprises for the friends of targets, if their clients request it." Just for shits and giggles, I guess? Orlesian nobles are vindictive sons of bitches. Everyone knew that, but I was learning.

"Or they could have just crept in some other way," said Armen, "It doesn't really matter as long as you're both alive." Ciara smiled and went over to him, and they did the goo-goo eye thing for a bit.

The spider that jumped began moving its legs slowly, curling and straightening to fight to get its bearings. The others all backed off. I approached and inspected it. Sure enough, it looked like the spider was still conscious on some level. Its many eyes tracked me as I walked past its head. I stopped in front of it, so it could watch as I ended its life. I guess I'm a vindictive son of a bitch too. Pissed that I had been jumped, I pulled the magazine out of my firelance, checked it, and slapped it back in. Ready.

"What's that?" asked Leha, getting interested now. From a distance.

"You'll see in a minute," I replied, not moving my gaze from the spider's own. Leha didn't respond, probably because she was wondering if I was mad. I was after all holding a strange piece of metal that didn't seem to have much function.

Before I could shoot, the sound of a horse's hooves drew my attention, and I skirted the dying spider again to see. Tam was riding up on Fritz quickly, through the road's gap in the hedgerow and onto the paved environs of the mansion itself. Her helmet was off.

"What's she in a hurry for?" asked Armen.

"I guess we're going to find out," I replied, waving to her.

Tam slowed the horse as she approached close by, and dismounted beside me. With a glance at the spiders, she hugged me briefly before speaking.

"Julie is bringing her sisters to meet you," said Tam quickly, "But the Baron brought the Revered Mother. She sent me ahead to warn you, they are only a minute behind me."

Warn me? I smirked, realising that this was an excellent chance. Pierre des Arbes had possibly sent me here to die. I hadn't, yet the job of clearing the 'curse' was not yet entirely complete. It was time for a demonstration of my capabilities. One that would dissuade the Baron from another such transparent attempt to separate our group, as well as convince him that I was a useful friend to have. There was one snag, however.

"Ciara, Armen, are you going to stay to meet the priestess?" I asked, not sure if that would cause trouble or not, "I'll back your play." The two elves looked at each other, before standing their ground. Which pleased me.

"I have no intention of hiding," said Armen firmly, "I am no crazed blood mage." Good man, I thought.

"And I can pretend to believe in the Maker for a few minutes," Ciara joked.

"Me too," I replied. Assuming the Maker and my Creator aren't actually the same deity, or if both exist but Thedas is the Maker's realm rather than God's. Or neither exist, though I don't believe that. Still haven't really figured that out, which is why none of my children and grandchildren share my exact faith.

"I'm not sure I can," said Tam, "Who would believe that I believe?" It was a good point, but I had a solution.

"Then ask to convert if it becomes a problem," I replied, "Preachers love people who come to them for guidance, it's the whole point of being a preacher." Tam rubbed her neck, like she didn't like the idea, but didn't seem to have any other ideas.

The thumping of more horses came down the road ahead of the actual horses. Perfect timing, I thought, removing my own helmet and replacing it with my blue beret.

"Okay, can you guys get out of the way for a second?" I asked, "Move a little more over there." I indicated away from the archway and the spiders, so the riders would have a clear view of what I was doing. They complied, and turned to watch the newcomers arrive.

Inevitably, the Baron led the way, this time with only two retainers on horseback. He was still dressed in his armour and mask. Behind him was a young woman in robes on a brown pony, with short blonde hair and sharp eyes. This had to be the priestess, I knew. I guessed it was the 'firebrand' that Julie had talked about too, rather than the elder whom had taught people to read. Perhaps I should have thought of that as a bad sign.

At the back, Julie rode with her half-sisters. They were both olive-skinned, though the shape of their faces was different to hers, obviously the result of their parentage. They wore dresses too, albeit more modest ones than the scarlet of the eldest. I have to say they were very beautiful in their own right and in different manners. Of course they were, they were related to Julie. I couldn't figure out from that distance which one was Élodie and which was Claire, the former's baby-bump not visible yet. Sorry, Earth terminology again.

I turned around from the approaching group, and back to the spiders. I raised my firelance to my shoulder, aimed at the barely-alive spider and shot a burst into it. With messy results. As horses neighed loudly behind me, the regular _clip-clop_ of their shoes turning irregular, I sent another burst into the dead one for good measure. Perhaps a waste of ammunition, but I still had thousands of bullets for the firelance at this stage. And it had the effect I wanted.

I flicked the safety on and checked the results. As expected, the newcomers were all flabbergasted, except for Julie, who looked like she was watching a movie with popcorn. Incidentally, Leha's eyes looked like they'd pop out of her head, which was a nice bonus. Excellent. I smiled graciously, and after nodding to Tam to follow, moved towards our guests with a casual gait.

"Marquis, what in the name of the Maker..." began the Baron, his voice wavering as he tried to express himself.

"It was giant spiders killing everyone, not spirits," I said, passing him by and paying him no real heed, "No bother at all." An outburst of disbelief or exasperation erupted from behind the mask, very ignobly.

The Chantry mother watched both of us as we passed, particularly Tam, who tapped the top of her dagger with her palm when she was level. Instinct, I guessed. Not that the priestess would have been any match in a fight, but the hostility was pouring off of her. Firebrand indeed.

Finally, we came to Julie. I took her free hand and kissed it gently, eliciting a confused look, before turning to her sisters. One was in a light brown workdress, another was in a blue dress.

"Ladies, I am Lord Samuel Hunt, the Marquis de la Fayette," I said with a theatrical short bow, "I presume I have the pleasure of meeting Élodie and Claire?" I was getting results on the etiquette of being a noble simply by playing to popular notions of the concept from Earth. It was a good laugh, behaving like some guy out of an old movie. The two sisters' pairs of deep brown eyes looked me over, trying to decide what to make of me. I was genuinely happy to meet them.

"You do," said Élodie finally, distinguishable in her blue dress and long braided hair as the older of the two, "You saved Julie?"

"Well, I had the help of Tam here," I said modestly, as the Qunari stepped forward, "I'm sure you know all about her already." Claire nodded, her eyes agape with wonder. I guess Julie had spun the mistress tale pretty deep with her youngest sister. Élodie looked less impressed, even disapproving.

"I did what I could," Tam added, inclining her head to them with a warm smile of her own. And what she could was disembowel the gaoler. Good thing he deserved it, I thought.

"What did you do just now?" Claire asked, a very Julie-like curiosity on her face, "To the spiders, I mean." The others had dismounted and joined the circle by now, and their faces revealed a great deal of curiosity on that very subject as well.

"Just used a weapon from my country," I said with a wave of my hand, "Big spiders aren't any real threat." Which was perhaps a little too flippant, even if it did earn me another outburst from Pierre. Mission accomplished on the demonstration of my capabilities, at any rate.

"That is enough bragging out of you," joked Julie, nudging me, "I know you're trying hard to impress them, but there are limits." I suppose I was trying to impress them. Or at least, upstage the Baron. I threw my hands up in jest surrender.

"Okay, I give up," I said, "But you should come take a look at our new home, meet our friends."

"An apostate mage, a Dalish and a Qunari?" came the honeyed, formal voice from behind, "What manner of friends are those?" The Revered Mother spoke to me. Her words rubbed me the wrong way entirely, both being out of turn and insulting. When I turned to her, I found the Baron equally offended. Which was a strange sensation.

"They're all Andrastian. As am I, thanks to Julie. The mage is a healer," I said, "I intend to set up a hospital." An idea that came to me a split-second before. Medical care is high on the priority list for the United Nations, so I suppose it came more or less naturally. I had no doubt such a thing would be true of a religious leader. Of course, the problem was that hospitals didn't exist in Thedas.

"A hospital?" the Revered Mother asked, "What is that?" Jackpot.

"A place where the sick and injured can find treatment," I said over my confusion, "My country values such things."

"The Marquis is from the Far West, as I have told you," explained the Baron, "Marquis, this is Revered Mother Héloise Brandon of the Hearth Chantry."

"A noble ideal," the Mother said, "Perhaps there is hope for you after all." Her features softened a good bit, though it took the space of Tam shifting her weight on her feet for them to return to the hard-ass image this cleric clearly liked to show.

"I certainly think so," I said cheerfully, dissembling my irritation at her racism against my lover away. She didn't appear to catch my deception, though her type rarely can.

The Baron walked up to me, nodded to himself and slapped me on both shoulders. Which was almost as alarming as the giant spider landing on me. Or perhaps it is more accurate to say that was another spider, just one of a different kind.

"You have done what I asked, against my expectations," he said, "Shall we confirm our alliance?"

With the mask on, I couldn't read whether or not he meant me further harm or intended to use me. Either possibility would have brought trouble. However, seeing no other choice and with the expectation of rescue, I could only agree to it. I would find out what he intended soon enough. Still, I looked to both Julie and Tam before speaking. Both looked encouraged.

"I think that's for the best," I said.

* * *

 _AUTHOR'S NOTE: Go Ciara! Another chapter that was meant to be part of the last one, but grew too large. So I guess there'll be yet another fairly soon. Reading the Masked Empire at the moment for flavour on Orlais, depicts the country pretty much exactly how I imagined it._

 _This fiction now has a TV Tropes page courtesy of Drgyen, which you can check out and add to yourselves. Or add it to the Dragon Age recommended fanfics list if you're feeling particularly generous._

 _ **Ripper1337:** You called it._

 _ **5 Coloured Walker:** Sam brought along the spare uniforms of Fraser's squad, some of whom were bigger than he was. Tam is small for a Qunari and has smaller horns, though they remain big enough to be obvious._

 _If you want to see what I based my image of Tam on, go check out the Female Qunari picture on the Qunari page on the Dragon Age Wikia. Aside from the face, that's what I picture when I think about her._

 _ **Meebsterman:** Favourite story on this site? That is high praise, sir._

 _As for what state Hunt is from, I might as well tell you because it can't really be explained properly in the story... He's from Massachusetts, though that's not the whole picture. I see his family background as being more diverse in terms of states. Father from Virginia, Mother from Mass., grandparents from a variety of eastern states. What sort of people they were will come out in the story. East Coast though, definitely._

 _ **Comavampure:** Perhaps the Baron is a kink in their plans? Perhaps not. We'll see. _

_I loved the idea of Tam too much to exclude her from the romance, and the idea of Julie and Tam competing seemed... too archetypical, perhaps even sexist. Also, it would be a bit hard to include her on a HUGE plot point if the multiship didn't exist._

 _Also, the teethbrushing moment was a shout-out to your Maker, Have Mercy fic._

 _ **Judy:** Judy uber alles!_


	16. Chapter 16: Spirits in the Sky

**Chapter Sixteen: Spirits in the Sky**

 _The Marquis de la Fayette, Lord Samuel Hunt of the United Nations of Earth hereby exchanges pledges of honour and allegiance with Baron Pierre des Arbes of the Empire of Orlais, Lord of Hearth and the Dalish Hearthlands. Their friends shall be one, and their enemies shall be one. From the date set hereby, both shall ever raise their swords in the common defence of each other, and both shall defend the Hearthlands with their lives. The Baron Hearth, in recognition of this, grants the Marquis de la Fayette the manor of Ancienmaison. The Marquis de la Fayette, in recognition of his disposition, grants the Baron Hearth overlordship over him and his holdings, including appropriate troop levies, taxes and Chantry tithes._

 _Witnessed at Ancienmaison, in Solace of the thirty-eighth year of the Dragon Age, by Revered Mother Héloise Brandon, Mother of Hearth._

This was the pledge I signed after a rather tedious religious ceremony involving the threat to our immortal souls should we be lying about our pledges. My signature on it was a random scribble, as I could hardly set down my actual name in Latin letters for them. Armen was sent away beforehand by the Mother as to not sully the ritual, which he was quite glad about. Ciara went with him to go hunting instead, as we had yet to eat anything but nearly-stale bread. My stomach was grumbling throughout the chanting, and I think I wore down my teeth grinding them.

When it was over, the Baron rode off with his retainers first, followed shortly by Mother Brandon. The latter was very quiet after the ceremony, almost melting into the background as I shook hands with des Arbes. This struck me as strange, given the Chantry's reputation that Armen had built up in my mind and what Julie had said about this particular cleric. I expected a lecture, a stern warning or even a death threat should I not comply with the laws on the matter of magic. I was a little relieved when none of those possibilities materialised, putting it down to noble privilege. I should have been suspicious instead.

I led Julie, Tam, Leha, Élodie and Claire around the château for about an hour, firelance still at the ready. It turned out that eastern ground floor corner rooms were reception halls of some kind, chandeliers still in place, varnished wooden floors and wall panels in perfect condition. The basement had metal cages on it that we couldn't open, guarding a large wine cellar that hadn't been emptied and areas for food storage. So we were now apparently the owners of a lot more booze than we had anticipated. It was too grand for the likes of me, but I put a brave face on. After all, it appeared that Julie still hadn't told her sisters of the real situation. For their own protection, you understand, they were not warriors.

Both were very impressed by our new manor, at least. Though how the hell we were possibly going to live there was a mystery, never mind maintain the whole noble image. The expense would be massive, as far as I could tell. Something told me that blagging through it for a month wasn't going to cut it. Which is why that wasn't the plan.

* * *

Long story short, we all ended up back in Julie's courtyard in Hearth, having a lunchtime barbecue of halla and nug roasted over a huge fire. I had wondered previously why there was a pit in the middle of the place, but I guess my question was answered. There was a decent stew going too, if I recall correctly. We dragged the table from the kitchen and sat around it eating and joking about Leha falling drunk on it, talking about nothing important in particular. There was some talk about how casual I was for a noble, despite clearly acting like one at other times. It was fairly easy to explain that my countrymen used that sort of meal to relax and talk with their fellows regardless of class. So it was all very lighthearted. Well, until the inevitable questions came up.

Of course, it was Élodie who asked, being the sensible one. She even made sure most of the others were involved in their own talk before asking.

"So, Marquis... What do you intend to do in Orlais?" she asked, "Now that you must stay in Hearth." Clearly, the terms of our false arrangement had been explained to her in detail. I could only gawk at how much like Julie she looked like for a moment, freshly reminded of it by her question. Their faces were nearly identical, except for the brown eyes. She had remained pretty quiet until then, unlike Claire who was talking rapidly to Tam.

"I intend to live quietly," I said, "Keep my head down, avoid any trouble, and enjoy myself if I can." While I wait for the air cavalry, I might have added.

"So you won't play the Game?" asked Élodie, eyes narrowed. Concern for her sister was what I saw.

"How can I?" I replied with shrug, "I'm a foreigner."

Both she and Julie laughed at the absurdity of that, and I smiled, knowing that it would be impossible to keep out of the politics of the land after declaring myself a noble. Not to mention the machinations of the Baron and the Revered Mother, both of which I foresaw would be a serious problem. However, I was confident. It was only temporary.

"You're now a landed knight of Orlais," said Julie, shaking her head with a grin, "Your name will be registered with the Council of Heralds in Val Royeaux. Maybe no one will care, because we don't have very much land. Or maybe every noble in the Dales may ask themselves who you are." Good thing I hadn't stuck with Clint Eastwood as a name, or I might have been in trouble. Though I still intended to avoid every social occasion that the Baron would probably host, for fear of meeting his wife and being exposed.

"How do you know so much about what happens between nobles here?" I asked Julie, finding it odd.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Julie replied, before eating a small piece of halla. She was teasing me again.

"A piece of advice, my dear sister; don't keep secrets from your betrothed," Élodie said, "She has been involved in many... incidents with the nobility before. Often with less than respectable company." Respectability was evidently a value that Élodie placed highly, albeit not at the expense of her relationship with her family. It was actually rather amusing, considering her age.

"It is not my fault that the only people who want to make some coin at the expense of the chevaliers are thieves and whores," shrugged Julie, "It's funny though, one of those incidents is how I met Pierre." Élodie's lip curled up in disapproval, but she said nothing, instead taking a swig from the ale in front of her in the most lady-like fashion she could. Like I said, proper at all times. The last part of Julie's response intrigued me.

"How _did_ you meet the Baron?" I asked. Which almost caused Élodie to spray out her drink, before she swallowed and began coughing. Leha turned from listening to Armen and Ciara to us instead, with a decidedly neutral face. Signs that the story was a good one, at least. Even if my question was unexpected.

"I was in a chevalier's house during a party with a few other people," Julie explained, "Looking out for trouble in a servant disguise while a friend did something." A friend quite possibly meaning Leha, but I didn't stop her.

"So along comes the Baron up the corridor, taking off his mask," she continued, "Our eyes meet, and then... well, he isn't exactly ugly, is he? I had to do something." He was many things, but ugly wasn't one of them, I have to admit. The implication being that they jumped into a storeroom or something. To be honest, I would have done the same thing if given half the chance.

"Julie, this isn't a good thing to talk about," said Élodie with a grimace, "I mean, you're supposed to be pure before marriage. Or at least pretend to be."

"He asked!" said Julie, "Should I lie?"

"No, but..." Élodie began again.

"It is no problem," I sighed, "I don't mind. Don't worry about it."

The middle sister stared at me for a moment. "You are more tolerant than some, Marquis," she said at last, "You truly are an aristocrat." Not sure if that was meant to be a compliment, but I took it at face value. The nobles in any society get away with more improprieties.

"So you're not a little angry?" Julie asked flatly. Not sure if she was disappointed that I wasn't jealous or just surprised. Alas, that sort of thing is water under the bridge for me.

"No," I said sincerely, "Not even slightly." After all, who was with her now? Well, who was sharing her with a beautiful Qunari exile, to be more accurate. I looked over at Tam. She seemed to be having fun telling a story to Claire. I doubted she cared either. In fact, I was sure she already knew.

"Aww, isn't that nice," remarked Leha, "The guy gets the girl, the girl gets to be a marquise, everyone is happy." Her cynicism made me want to throw a little of my drink her way, except it was too warm to waste it in such a way. I settled for a rude gesture, once I was sure that Élodie couldn't see. The dwarf returned it immediately. She always did see Julie as playing the angles whenever I saw her as doing good, though given what has happened, both viewpoints on the subject of my lover's motivations may in fact be valid. It's a difficult thing to want to change the world, and it makes you hard.

Phrasing.

"And who would pass up such an opportunity?" Élodie asked, the question rhetorical, "It seems like a wonderful opportunity." She herself had married as much to climb the social ladder as for love, though the latter was there in her case. I spoke to her husband very rarely, and their personalities were quite similar. Or perhaps it was just their ideas about manners.

"Orlesians," sneered Leha, "Almost as bad as the dwarva who stick to the caste rules up top. I swear, can't you just find someone who has your back and stick, instead of all this manoeuvring?"

I gazed at her in surprise. "I didn't take you to be a sentimentalist, Leha," I said, before taking a gulp of ale.

"It's not about sentiment, it's about trust," she said, "Most people are trying to play each other. Play the Game, as you lot would say. It's only right that you have at least one person you can trust."

"And where is yours, hm?" joked Julie, a little cruelly.

"I don't go for tall folk," Leha insisted, "Unfortunately, most surface dwarva are thieves, liars and/or murderers. Not exactly great material to work with." Considering she was at least two of the three, that was rich.

"All the better than I found someone who isn't a thief, a liar or a murderer then," said Julie. I had to restrain a laugh, as I had stolen, lied and killed in the past two weeks or so. All to survive, yes, but despite the fates throwing everything they could at me, it still felt like my fault somehow. Not least events like the battle on the hilltop against Duval's men.

"Do you know when you're getting married?" Élodie asked, moving the conversation in a less Leha-oriented direction, "I can't imagine it will be soon."

"No, we're going to wait," Julie said, "Summerday next year seems likely." Her sister nodded her head with approval.

"Good, that's the best time for it," she said, "The Maker blesses those who marry then." She patted her belly slightly, showing what she meant by that. I had almost forgotten she was pregnant, and the reminder was timely.

"Congratulations, by the way," I said, "I have many nephews and nieces. Children are funny. Though I'm told they are a lot of work."

"Thank you, Marquis," Élodie said, smiling at me for the first time, "I appreciate it." Her importance in the years to come was far from small, and without knowing it, I had laid yet another of the foundation stones for events to come.

* * *

A few hours later, Julie's sisters wished to return home as the sun began to get lower in the sky. Having still not seen the town in daylight, I offered to escort them back. They agreed, which I was glad for, and we picked up Tam to help too. Considering we were fully decked out in Earth-panoply, with our weapons and helmets on our belts, I doubted anyone would accost us on the street. Anyone who did would have died instantly, and not by my hand, but it wouldn't be necessary. We were going to have a pleasant walk back. In stark contrast of what the night would bring.

The streets were full of people still, going about the last business of the day before they would disperse for some leisure. Many were in hoods, a phenomenon I had noticed in Halamshiral but not fully understood. Of course, these were elves, looking to avoid trouble for being what they were. Hearth was in the Dales, so the majority of the population was elven, but the power rested with humans. A demonstration of both facts would be coming soon, little did I know. Nor were the elves the only ones donning headgear as a matter of course. Élodie and Claire had both put on half-masks, the latter in a light blue colour and the former with a decadent purple tone. Apeing the nobility was practically the mark of the middle class, as far as I could tell. All the merchants we passed on the road were wearing half-masks too. Status is very much visible in Orlais.

"Marquis, what brought you to our little corner of the world?" asked Claire, "The Far West is... far away." Thus spoke the youngest of the sisters in a manner Julie would have. She might not have looked like the eldest as much as the middle sibling, but her mannerisms were entirely the same; bordering on the whimsical at the best of times. I smiled at her words, the familiarity all too present.

"He's an explorer," said Élodie, before I could answer, "He came to discover and understand the people here. Perhaps to open the way to an invasion." That last assumption wiped out my smile, as it was a little too close to the truth for my liking. Not out of my own intentions of course, but if my countrymen did find a way to Thedas, _they_ would want to take what they could. Élodie was clearly drawing from her own world's experience with Tevinter, the Qunari, perhaps even the darkspawn as well, so I spoke to reassure her.

"My job was to boldly go where no one had gone before, to seek out new life and new civilisations," I said in jest, arms raised outwards to gesture towards the town in general, "How dare you accuse me of being the vanguard to an attack!" Claire giggled a little, glancing at her sister.

"I'm sure those spiders would have disagreed," Élodie said, "Weapons the Qunari would cower at, strange manners, a whole other written language. You are a mystery, Marquis. A dangerous one, if there is an empire of people like you out there somewhere."

"I have no intention of staying mysterious, my lady," I lied, "I am here to explore, I'll need to talk to people." Intelligence gathering generally does require that. Or at least, listening to people. Élodie seemed content with that answer, walking along silently.

"What did you do before you became an explorer?" Claire asked.

"I was a soldier and a peacekeeper," I replied, having no reason to lie about that , "I still am, actually."

"So you upheld the law?" she said, "Like the Baroness?"

I frowned at the mention of Cecile des Arbes. I just couldn't get away from the fact she would recognise me instantly. It was hardly the time for thinking too much about that, so I answered quickly.

"I was sent to warzones to separate warring groups," I explained, "To protect people who weren't fighting, to make sure no one was violating the rules of war, to defeat those who were, and to rebuild villages and towns." Or in a lot of cases, to watch helplessly as people were slaughtered while awaiting authorisation to attack. At least, that's how it was in the early days of my time in the desert. The international politics of Earth are far more complex than that of Thedas, so not everyone was on board with attacking certain factions in the civil war we were sent to sort out. There were around two hundred countries when I left, and undoubtedly there are more now. If anyone's alive, that is.

"That's a strange thing," Claire remarked, "I think things would be better if we had something like that in Orlais."

I felt a pang of sympathy for her. Her father had been taken by armed conflict, after all, and it was clear that was what she would have wanted peacekeepers for. For the moment, I said nothing. Perhaps when my countrymen did arrive, they could put a stop to that sort of thing entirely. Peace through superior firepower. A phrase that shall probably be etched on not only my memorial, but that of Julie and Tam as well, incidentally. A pity, considering all I wanted to do was be left alone.

"Maybe it would be better," I conceded, "But I don't think your nobility would like such interference."

Élodie snorted at that. "They'd prefer to die, I think," she said, "I'm surprised your own kind allow it."

"Well, there's a reason for that," I said, "There were two wars, one a century ago and another about seventy years ago. They were bloody, unlike anything you can imagine. Kingdoms fell to pieces, and millions perished. After that, my nation and many others came together to prevent wars of that scale from happening again, because they threaten everyone."

"Sounds like a Blight," said Claire, "I don't really remember what happened when it happened last time, I was too young."

I reminded myself to ask Armen what a Blight was when I returned to the smithy, as this was now the second time the word had been used in my presence and I was beginning to suspect there was a little more to it than a disease affecting potato harvests. Which is what a blight is on Earth.

"Be glad that you don't remember," I said, getting a hum of approval from Élodie in the process.

We finally reached a large house on a terrace, in a part of town that was slightly less dirty than the others and was a little less busy too. Gabled roof, large windows with shutters, arched doorway and fresh-looking paint on the walls. I was impressed. Evidently, Élodie's family did well for itself. Goods trade, in case you were wondering how exactly.

"Well, I guess this is goodbye for now," I said, "I'm sure I'll be seeing a lot more of you."

"Thank you, Marquis," Élodie replied, with a little curtsy, "I hope you treat my sister well."

"I will," I said.

The two sisters entered the house and the door shut. I headed back the way we had come, with more questions than answers and hoping I had made a good impression. The next month or two of waiting would be hell otherwise, I thought as I dodged gaggles of pedestrians.

* * *

When I returned, I found Julie in the forge building with Tam.

It was a tall and wide space made entirely of stone from top to bottom, with pieces of metalworking equipment tucked into every possible corner. Two forges dominated the space to either side, seemingly having different purposes. Tools were stored everywhere, and there were three anvils in the middle of the space. At the back were complete and incomplete products; a few sets of plate armour, weapons, farming tools, nails and arrowheads in boxes. Pretty much what you'd expect to see. I wandered over to the rear to examine some of these. Julie was busy fussing over some of the chainmail we had taken from the dead on the hilltop, trying to restitch a loop of metal into one of the holes I had made with my firelance while Tam watched in amusement. As you can imagine, both had changed clothes at this point. The forge wasn't a clean place.

"You going to stand over there forever?" asked Julie through her exertions, after a few minutes of me picking up swords and having a swing of them, "Did you get my sisters home?"

"Sorry, was just curious to see what sort of things you make. Your sisters are safe," I replied, placing a sword back on a rack, "What are you doing?"

"Getting these ready for sale," said Julie, "From what the Grand-Duke's chevalier told us, I think prices on armour are going to go up." I wondered a little if continuing her trade might blow the whole 'acting noble' cover, but I wasn't going to take it away from her for the sake of it. She'd probably shoot me if I tried, for a start.

"Will that bring in a lot?" I asked, hoping that the money would at least be handsome.

"A fortune, if her mutterings are right," said Tam, standing up and picking up another set, "We might be living in luxury for our last few months here." If only.

"We can hope," Julie said, holding up the chainmail to inspect it, "Once I get my apprentices back, we can even do some extra work to complete the sets, add some plate sections and gloves."

Armen walked in, seemingly without Ciara to my surprise. They were practically joined at the hip at this stage. The others kept working, so I inquired as to where the huntress had got to.

"At the fletcher again, inquiring about better arrows," Armen said with a wave of his hand, "After meeting those spiders, she wants some that can pierce thick hide better." I shrugged at that. It was a sensible precaution, one beyond her years in my opinion. Of all the people in our little group, I think she was the only one who shared my immediate fear for the future. Or perhaps she could sense my unease when I was out of eyeshot of Tam or Julie. I tended to forget all about any number of problems when I was with them.

"Actually, now that you're here, I have a question," I said, remembering my talk with Élodie and Claire on the way back.

"Well, I am a scholar," joked Armen, "I like questions. As long as I can answer them." A clear warning to keep off the topic of the Rebellion, that last part. Not that the Rebellion was the subject of my interest that evening.

"What is a Blight?"

Immediately, the sounds of work and movement from Julie and Tam halted. Armen's smile disappeared, as if choked. The chainmail was placed back on the floor. My friends looked between each other in confusion, with wide eyes and thinned lips. I had no idea what was wrong with the question, but from what they said afterwards, it's clear that they were at a loss as to how to explain. Not least because I was from a world where magic was non-existent, at least in the way they recognised, and the evil gods more than likely didn't exist either.

"I'll be right back," said Julie, brushing off her work clothes as she got up, "Take a seat."

She rushed out. I followed her exit as she strode out quickly, before grabbing one of the many wooden stools strewn about the place.

"Where's she going?" I asked.

"I can guess," said Armen, "We're going to need some help with this one."

I looked to Tam, and she shook her head, not knowing where Julie had went. The person in question returned several minutes later, with Ciara, a bottle of vodka and several cups in tow. My eyebrow raised at that. It was going to be one of _those_ conversations. She poured everyone a drink, handing them out without a word, before sitting down on top of an anvil and nodding to Armen to begin. He drank a little before speaking.

"Ahh, where to start..." he said, eyes looking to the heavens.

"The magisters," said Julie firmly, "Start with them."

So Armen did, explaining everything from back to front. How the Tevinter magisters entered the Fade, the city within it, unleashing the darkspawn onto the world under the control of dark gods. How the foul creatures live underground, attacking the last dwarven kingdoms while digging to find more of their gods, and every couple of hundred years, rising to attack the kingdoms of the surface and destroy the world. He spoke about the Archdemons, how they led the hordes and that they were immortal save against a very special kind of warrior. The effects on people and the land seemed particularly horrendous, with the taint affecting crops, farm animals, corrupting people and even children born during blights were smaller. Finally, the mage spoke about the Grey Wardens and how they saved the world five times, the last time less than ten years before.

I was dumbfounded by the whole thing. If it wasn't for the seriousness of the atmosphere, made worse by the alcohol, I wouldn't have believed a word of it. Undead from underground, that eat men and turn women into living incubators for broods of more undead? Dragons leading armies to the doom of all? It sounded like apocalyptic prophesy to me, the sort of thing a deranged cultist would come up with. However, Julie's face told me all I needed to know about the truth of it, which added to her previous stories of tree demons, painted the picture that she had experienced some of its horrors first hand. The truth was that all of eastern Orlais still hadn't recovered from the effects of the crisis.

Which is why I began asking questions about the Fifth Blight.

"They stopped it though, right?" I asked, "I'm not likely to run into any darkspawn or archdemons while we're here."

"Darkspawn, perhaps. They sometimes raid the Dales," said Armen, dredging up the knowledge from the back of his mind, "But without the leadership of the Archdemon, they are much more easily defeated, and we probably won't see another of those for centuries." I would say that this was a naïve idea, but the evidence was firmly on our mage's side on this. We could not know about Corypheus and his plans.

"Your weapons should be effective against them," said Tam, "And with your... ability, you might even be able to kill an Archdemon." I breathed out heavily at that. Even if I could have, I had no intention of testing that theory, because that would have meant getting to within a swordswing of the damn thing. Considering they were dragons, and I had seen a dragon, up close and personal, I had no intention of going there.

"Without dying, you mean," I said, remembering the stories, "These Grey Wardens... they must be great men and women, to take on that burden." Drinking darkspawn essence seemed like an insane risk to me, at least if you aren't immune to that nonsense. Guaranteed suicide missions as a life long career seemed more par for the course though.

"They're heroes," said Ciara, "Even to the Dalish. The clans usually shun humans and other races, but a Grey Warden of any race can usually talk to them without being turned into a pincushion. Usually." The Dalish were troublesome in their prejudices like that, but we'll get to that part.

"Mages who don't like the Circles often join up too," Armen added, "Grand-Enchanter Fiona, our leader and the one who pushes us towards freedom, she was once a Grey Warden." That made sense to me. Of course the one leading the Rebellion had tasted freedom.

"I didn't think you could stop being one?" said Julie.

"It's complicated, and I don't know the whole story," Armen replied quickly, "but it makes me wonder if she could kill an Archdemon without dying as well."

"Well, the last Grey Warden to slay one didn't die when the last Blight was stopped," said Julie, " _The Hero of Ferelden_ , as that country likes to call him. Maybe there are more exceptions to the rule than you know." Well, at least there's hope there, I thought. Knowing my luck, I reckoned three archdemons at least were bound to show up during our short stay. Dragons and demons had already put in an appearance.

"No one seems to know how he did it," said Armen, "Worse, he was Warden-Commander in Ferelden for a year or so, and then disappeared hunting some mage, or so the word is. I would love to know how he did it."

"You don't know?" said Tam, incredulously, "I thought everyone in the South knew?"

Heads turned to her like lightning, mine included. This was going to be good. Or very bad. Either way.

" _You_ know how the Hero of Ferelden slew the Archdemon without perishing?" asked Armen, "How by Andraste's dimpled cheeks would you know something like that?"

"The Arishok... the leader of the armies of the Qun," replied Tam, "He was a Sten, a war leader, sent to investigate darkspawn during the Blight, and fought alongside Amell and his company, including King Alistair. He's quite fond of telling the story. " Both as a cautionary tale and as a political manoeuvre to demonstrate his experience of the South, no doubt. I've found the Qunari more politically divided than their facade would have us believe. Of course, the notion that Tam spoke to the supreme commander of Qun forces warranted some comment.

"Wait. You're on a story-hearing basis with the leader of all Qunari soldiers," I said, "Just how highly ranked were you?"

"I was a candidate to eventually replace the Ariqun on Seheron, remember? Or maybe to be Viddasala, I'm not sure," said Tam, "All three of our supreme leaders or their underlings would speak to us regularly, weeding out the weaklings and testing us. The Arishok was quite fond of me, as I was among the most insistent on the importance of military training among our young."

Given her skills, I was surprised she wasn't a soldier herself. Of course, only males could be soldiers under the Qun, though women served by changing their identity to that of a male. I guess she liked caring for children too much to abandon the duty for combat roles. She proved cut out for the latter at any rate.

"Yes yes, get to the part where you know how to survive killing an Archdemon," said Armen impatiently, "This is ground-breaking magic, if it's true." Which is probably why he should be let near it, but alas, I am always there to fish him out of the fire.

"Very well, _saarebas_ , though I doubt you'll find the tale useful," said Tam, annoyed by his tone, "Amell travelled with a number of companions other than the Arishok. As well as King Alistair, there was a red-headed Orlesian bard, a dwarf beserker, an assassin from the Antivan Crows, another human mage who is quite high up in the Circles now..."

"Senior-Enchanter Wynne," interjected Armen with a small hint of disgust, "She opposes the Rebellion, the old soft..."

"A golem..." continued Tam, raising her voice slightly, "And apparently a dog, of which the Arishok can't seem to shut up about. They were all pawns for the last member of the group. A so-called Witch of the Wilds named Morrigan." That name was familiar to me.

"Morrigan," I said flatly, "The goddess?"

"You know of her?" asked Tam in surprise, "She's a goddess?"

"In some of our mythology, she was a goddess who offered great power temptations to heroes in return for her love or for some other task," I said, remembering some of it, "She is the goddess of both life and death, associated with cows and ravens." I loved the old myths of various Earth cultures, and I have to say it was among the favourites of mine. Mostly because it was so wacky. People turning into swans and wars fought over cattle. That sort of thing.

"Sounds like she needs to make up her mind," said Julie, "Crows and cows? Life and death? I do not understand." The story has nuances beyond that sort of thing, but like I said, I liked it for its strangeness. Morrigan was fond of lending her favour to warriors, and as I was planning to be a warrior, the idea of a goddess offering herself to me along with the strength to win was appealing. The Hero of Ferelden was evidently of the same opinion.

"Morrigan is not entirely unlike your myths, but she is not divine," Tam continued, "Amell fell in love with her, and she with him. Not surprising, they were both _saarebas_. Amell did not like life in the Circle and Morrigan was disdainful about it at best."

"It seems I have more in common with the Hero than I thought," joked Armen.

"As well as Morrigan," added Ciara, "Careful you don't run off to the Wilds!"

Tam pressed on. "They fought together, slept together and made much of the decisions that saved Ferelden together. The Arishok found her to be not a formidable threat, at least for a mage, until the eve of the final battle. Morrigan and Amell coupled, and the witch got pregnant."

"I'm not sure how that has anything to do with surviving an Archdemon," interrupted Julie. I have to admit that I couldn't see the connection either. Armen on the other hand looked thoughtful, like he might have had an idea about where the story was going.

"At least the technique seems pleasant," he remarked, once he noticed that I was watching him. His smile was back.

"She performed a ritual, during or after their joining," said Tam, "So that when the Archdemon was slain, the soul of the Old God it possessed would take hold of the unborn child. According to the Arishok, it could survive the taint that would have killed an adult, so Amell lived."

"So a sprinkle of blood magic, Amell gets to live and Morrigan gets a child with the soul of an Old God..." said Armen, "I can see why she did it." Power being the implied reason. It's always power with blood magic.. Though I am perhaps being harsh on their motivations.

"She disappeared almost immediately after the battle at Denerim, and Amell disappeared a year later," Tam finished, "Not sure why, the Arishok left Ferelden days after Morrigan left. Perhaps the Warden-Commander wished to find his lover and their son or daughter?"

I shook my head in disgust.

"Using a child like that..." I said, "I couldn't do it. Who knows what in the hell will happen to them, a demon's soul floating about inside them?"

"The soul of an _Old God_ ," corrected Armen, "The Old Gods are not necessarily evil, they become Archdemons because the darkspawn dig them up and corrupt them. It is a matter of some debate in Val Royeaux." I wasn't sure that made things any better for the child, but alas...

"I'm sure it is," said Julie, "Meanwhile, the rest of us get to worry about being dragged off by the evil _fils des putes_ in the middle of the night, while the professors sit behind Val Royeaux's walls." Tam nodded her agreement with that, her view on Armen's academic curiosity being as dim as it was back then. I realised that something along those lines must have happened before. The palisade wall certainly wouldn't have stopped a determined enemy, especially one as dangerous as darkspawn.

"Don't worry. We'll smite anything that tries to come for us," I said firmly, "A few months, and we're out of this place forever. The more you tell me about this world, the more I look forward to showing you my world." The whole group smiled at that hope, so openly expressed. So naïve.

It was only hours later that we discovered it to be a false hope.

* * *

We had a hearty dinner to compensate for the serious topics we had been discussing. Some of the halla and nug we had cooked for lunch, with potato mash, gravy skimmed off from earlier, butter, bread, ale, even some black pepper, which was a luxury back then. The food doesn't seem strange to me now, but coming from Earth, I found it both filling and rough at the same time. Better than the rations, worse than the fare back home. Regardless, we ate very well and talked about more lighthearted matters, like what we were going to do with the château and who would win in a shooting competition between Tam, Ciara and I.

It must have been midnight when we finally packed it in for the night, and I retired with Julie and Tam to the former's bedchamber. I entertained the idea of fooling around for a little while, but after a... playful exchange, the three of us decided wordlessly that it had been too eventful a day. We were tired. Tomorrow was a new day, we could indulge ourselves then. So, we drifted off into a deep sleep almost as soon as we had gotten comfortable in the bed together.

When I regained consciousness, I awoke to a hellscape.

I was laid down on my back, my usual sleeping position, on damp rock, which was definitely not my usual bedding nor the bedding I had went to sleep on. I opened my eyes, and found an open sky above me. A dark green sky, filled with floating mountains and twisted archways that made me question which way was up for a moment until reason reasserted itself.

Not that reason apparently means much in the Fade, but it does to me, so I didn't fall into the sky.

In the distance was a floating, black settlement of some kind. Brooding towers and walls covered in shadow, menacing the whole place like a beast growling and ready to strike. This was the Black City, though by my standards, it was more of a Black Town. Which didn't diminish its threat. I groaned at the sight, and pinched myself to see if I was dreaming, a more or less common response to such things. I didn't wake up.

"Riiight," I said to myself, "So this isn't a dream."

I stood up and looked around. I was in the middle of a small island, surrounded by a dark pool of black water. Beyond that was rocky terrain, with steps cut into it at sharp angles and unholy lights hovering around, both of which seemed to go on forever. I rubbed my head and pinched the bridge of my nose. A quick check, and I found myself without my weapons or armour. I was still in the clothing I had worn to bed. Which wasn't much. There was only one immediate conclusion that I could come up with; I had been transported to another world. Why Tam and Julie hadn't been taken, I did not know.

"Ah shit, not again," I said aloud, "Whoever is doing this, can you cut this out?"

"Who is doing what?" came the Orlais-tinted reply, sending goosebumps up my skin instantly. I turned to seek the owner of the voice, a female one that had some years on it. I found no one behind my back, only to turn around and find myself confronted with a red mask barely inches from my face. I fell backwards, stumbling to remain on my feet.

"What the hell!" I shouted, reaching for my weapons before remembering they weren't there, "Who are you!"

"Françoise des Arbes, Baronetess of Ancienmaison," she said in Orlesian, doing a curtsy, "And you?"

I looked over the woman, still in a mild state of shock. She wore a long, grey dress with red lining with a huge, ballroom skirt. Long, immaculately tressed brown hair curled out from under her full-face mask. She looked younger than her voice suggested, and by a long way. She waited patiently for my answer, which calmed me down a great deal. I straightened up, and took a step forwards to offer my hand.

"Samuel Hunt," I began, "...the Marquis de la Fayette." I wasn't sure whether or not to lie about my title, but it was becoming a habit to add it on now.

For her part, the 'Baronetess' found it amusing.

"And lord of my former manor, are you not?" she said, "You seemed very interested in it today. The Revered Mother's chanting aside."

I gulped down a lump in my throat as I realised I was talking to a dead woman, Pierre's assassinated cousin no less. Suppressing my panic, which threatened greatly to overwhelm my senses, I placed myself in my military mindset, the sort I used to talk to officers who outranked me and were well aware of the difference. It was the best I could do.

"It was a fine building, ma'am," I replied politely, in Orlesian, "It will serve very well, while I am living temporarily in Hearth."

The ghost seemed confused by that, tilting its head and laughing a little.

"Where shall you go afterwards?" she asked, "And here I thought you would make a good replacement, after so many attempts to usurp my place by those who had me killed."

Another shudder went down my spine at the implications of those words. Aside from the fact that a dead woman wanted me for an heir, I began to seriously doubt that the giant spiders were responsible for most of the deaths in the château. There was also the thought that perhaps Pierre had his cousin killed, or perhaps his wife had, to claim both the land and the chance to frame an enemy. I couldn't put it past him, even if Julie trusted the man.

"I will go home," I said firmly, putting aside my thoughts.

"How?" she asked, "How will you go home?" I found the question strange.

"The same way I came," I replied, "I hope."

The dead noblewoman found that entirely hilarious, doubling over and rumbling a great giggle out of her. I clenched my fists, and my lip curled with anger. I was not in the mood to be mocked, even by the dead.

"You have no idea, do you?" she said, "You are quite famous, around here."

"Famous?" I asked, not liking the sound of that at all.

"Oh yes, many have been expecting your arrival," she said, "They and I watched it, as you fell from grace." Fell from grace sounded downright biblical...

"So... this is the Fade," I said, looking around again. There were more spirits gathering now, looking a lot more like the ghosts of stories from Earth. I wasn't sure I was in danger, with my supposed immunity to this sort of thing, but of course, if I was already there, I couldn't rely on that.

"Indeed, and it is not the first time you have been here," Francoise said, "Though it is the first time you have been here in this way."

"In this way?" I asked.

"I have summoned you here, to talk," she replied, "As I could not speak to you during the day, it was daytime and you were awake." Okay, so there was hope of getting back, I thought. If she could summon me, she could place me back in my bed just as easily. If she was so inclined. So I decided to indulge her wish to speak to me.

"You said I fell from grace," I said, "What do you mean? How did I fall?"

"In that giant metal machine of yours, of course," the dead women giggled, "It was very unusual, not like the others at all. It drew all sorts of attention." She was talking about the helicopter, and I suddenly remembered the clawmarks along the outside of its metal skin. Interesting attention indeed. The mention of others just confused me entirely. Other whats? Earthlings?

"Others?" I asked.

"Many enter the Fade who do not wish to, one way or another," the dead woman said, deadpanning, "More than that, I will not say." Yeah, real helpful there lady. I really wished I had a firelance to empty into her, which was a bit stupid. Contrary to the presumed expectations of you, my dear readers, no weapon materialised at will for me either. A lesson for another day.

"I don't suppose you could show me the way I came?" I asked, looking for better answers.

"Certainly," she said.

Suddenly, the scenery around us changed. The general features were exactly the same, but there were now two of the Baronetess. The original remained in her place, the second was stood among a huge crowd of translucent beings, all looking upwards.

I tracked their gazes to the sky, and saw a giant thunderstorm high up, nearby the dark, floating city. Wreathed in a very familiar green lightning. Out of the cloud, tumbled our helicopter, blades whirring and engines roaring. It was a memory, I realised, one of Francoise's own that she was sharing with me. As the helicopter got closer, I picked out other shapes attached to it.

Lithe, spiked creatures, green caricatures of tall men with long, blade like fingers. They were tearing at the aircraft viciously. Most were concentrated at the front, getting into the glass of the cockpit with some ease. I shouted out, as I realised I was watching how the crew had died. Torn apart by monsters. It had no effect. The helicopter continued falling, or half-flying, until it was eaten up by another bright flash of green, leaving the monsters behind in the air. The storm dispersed in seconds afterwards, as if it had never existed, and the crowd went with it.

The memory disappeared, leaving only us and the small gaggle of spirits left. I looked up at the sky again and felt sick.

"Does that satisfy you, Marquis?" the Baronetess asked.

"Yes," I said, trying to keep my stomach together, "Thank you."

"You are most welcome," she said, with another curtsy, "Do you see now that you cannot return home?" Which was the reason that nausea had hit me, aside from the experience of being sucked into another's memories. The place in the sky where we fell from was undisturbed, and at no small altitude. I would need to go back, get Julie and Tam, re-enter the Fade with all its dangers and demons, find a way to get that high up and then re-open whatever hellgate I had passed through with Fraser's men and the helicopter crew.

It didn't seem possible.

"I'm afraid our time is up," said Francoise suddenly, "I am glad I had this opportunity. We may never speak again, but know that you shall be safe in my home."

I opened my mouth to speak, but the Fade disappeared from my sight, replaced with the darkness of Julie's bedroom.

I was sitting up in the bed, but my vision of it was clouded, as if I was underwater or there was a heat haze. As soon as I noticed it however, the visual effect dispersed with a wooden bang, and Armen appeared in front of me by the doorway. The noise had been his staff, and it was obvious that he had been casting a spell of some kind.

I jumped out of bed and checked myself. Everything was still there, and a pinch confirmed that I was still awake. Julie and Tam were out of the bed to either side, backs to the wall and hands grasping at the masonry, but slowing relaxing from their stance.

"What happened?" I asked, trying to figure things out.

Armen sighed with relief and shuffled into the room, a very sleepy Ciara with him. It was still the middle of the night, which I wouldn't quite understand for a few minutes yet.

"There was a spirit, so I rushed up here and dispelled it," he said, "I woke to … relieve myself and sensed something magical was here."

"I know that," I replied, "I was talking to it in the Fade."

"You what!" said Julie, coming over, "How?!"

"No idea," I said, "It called itself Francoise des Arbes, it claimed to be the murdered owner of our new … castle. It also showed me things." Recognition fell over Julie's face, but she didn't have time to reply.

Tam rushed up to me, and hurried me to the bed. I lay down as instructed, and she began a physical inspection, looking for marks or any other sign of possession. Even I knew what she was at, so I let her do it. It was gentler than the one she had given me at the crash-site. When she was done, she hung her head for a moment.

"Thank you..." she said to no one in particular, "I was worried." She lied down beside me and put her hands on her face for a moment, before sitting up again.

"If he's resistant to magic, I doubt he can be possessed even if his mind can go to the Fade," said Armen with a yawn, to reassure the Qunari, "But this is still a weakness that can be exploited." Julie and Tam still looked concerned. Even Ciara's eyes widened enough to show she was listening. I really, really did not want to add to the weight on their mind, but every fibre of my being was screaming out to tell them.

So I did.

"We have a bigger problem than whether or not a spirit can get inside my head," I said.

"What's that?" asked Julie, eyes wide. I hesitated for a moment, but she sat down on the bed to hear. I couldn't deny her.

"I saw exactly how I came to Thedas, where I came through the Fade," I explained, "There's no way we can get to Earth that way. No way anyone else can get through and back again, flying machines or otherwise. We're stuck here."

* * *

 _AUTHOR'S NOTE: So, the second to last chapter of the Laws and Customs Volume. I hope you enjoyed it. The next chapter will be called Prelude to War, and the next volume will be called Rebellion. As you can probably tell, the next volume will be more spread out in terms of time, moving us ever closer to that Inquisition timeline._

 _Good number of revelations in this chapter, though Sam still doesn't have the whole picture, either about the state of affairs in his new home or why he's in Thedas._

 _I'm playing with the cover photo at the moment, trying to work out what would be a better noble sigil for"the Lord and Ladies Hunt" so to speak. It'll come up in the story next chapter, so I'd like your opinion both on the one on the cover photo, and the one on my own profile/on the Outlander TV Tropes page. If you're arsed. G'won though._

 _ **Drgyen:** The relationship between Julie and the Baron remains largely lacking clarity for the moment, other than that they were intimate at one time. Sam isn't particularly interested in the details, because he doesn't value the knowledge, and Julie doesn't really want to tell, because she doesn't really want to get into it when she's got Tam and Sam. It'll come out in bits._

 _Whereas there'll be more direct conversations on the subject of Sam's origins._

 _Various pieces of Earth culture will be inevitably and sometimes inadvertently dropped by Sam over the years. Scooby Doo will be one of them... Three guesses why it's popular in Ferelden though._

 _ **Ripper1337:** More prophesy? Well, you're going to have to wait for confirmation or rejection of that particular hypothesis._

 _ **5 Coloured Walker:** Bear in mind that nobles can enlist the services of mages or even take them as lovers into their own homes. Vivienne being the prime example. If a noble says the mage is in their service, a Chantry mother is likely to believe it, especially in Orlais. But yes, there is no Circle Tower in Hearth and there is no other reason for the Chantry to have extra security there, so there are no Templars. _

_Of course, that doesn't mean Mother Héloise is just going to sit pretty and accept it. Or that she entirely believes the story. Or that she doesn't._

 _ **Vixeona:** Evidently, you've got a real feel for how I myself see Sam, if that's your opinion on his parenting haha! As for the genetic compatibility issue, the lore on Tamassrans says that they deliberately insure that no mixed-children are born under the Qun, which implies that it is possible. However, practically none exist in canon. Tal-Vashoth keep to themselves as much as the Qunari do, apparently. The reputations of both probably prevent it happening often, for savagery in the former case and religious zealotry in the latter. I would imagine there would be violence against mixed couples in contact regions as well._

 _As for the basement, sorry, nothing really interesting down there. Deliberately avoided the prime cliché to hit up the second most common one as a joke._

 _ **Comavampure:** Cheers. Magical refrigeration would only be available to nobles who had mages more or less permanently on staff, runes or otherwise. Far easier, and far cheaper, to keep things stored below ground. If anything, the wealthy nobles would use both good storage and magical means to keep food cold. It's just that no one has lived in the château for years._

 _ **Eclipse1234:** That will be dealt with in the next chapter._


	17. Chapter 17: Prelude to War

**Chapter Seventeen: Prelude to War**

After I revealed that Earth was now a near-impossible destination, if not entirely a suicidal objective, we quietly relocated to the kitchen. Sleep had no hold on us any more. The atmosphere was strange, a mix of disappointment, confusion and fear for the future, as I told the whole story of what I had seen in the Fade. No one asked any questions except Armen, mainly about what I could see and the like. Apparently, that a spirit could interact with my mind but not my body was utterly baffling to him. I was glad for the small piece of more or less practical conversation on the subject, as it distracted me from my despair long enough to think about what had to happen next. There was a pause as everyone got lost in their own thoughts, which I interrupted.

"Survival is what we have to concentrate on now," I said, "We're in real trouble."

Heads raised themselves at that, some understanding what I meant, others not quite getting it.

"What do you mean?" asked Tam, "Aside from the mage, the Qunari will take time to find us, the Templars don't know where you are, and our records were destroyed with the prison."

"I think you could kill anyone who threatens us anyway?" added Ciara, "A traveller from another world with knowledge beyond anything this world has seen? I'd be scared. Fen'harel himself would tremble if he met you.." Not sure if the Dread Wolf was ever capable of that to begin with. That said, he wasn't best pleased at my presence either once he discovered it.

"It's not gods or demons we have to worry about," Julie said, "It's everyone else." Everyone else without the brains to understand what they were dealing with, of which there are and were plenty. I owe so much to my civilisation's forefathers, their work and intelligence. Without them, I would indeed be dead. Yet my alien origin also presented disadvantages.

"I'm supposed to be a noble, remember?" I said, leaning back in my chair, "We could have kept up that deception for a few months, but now we're talking about a lifetime. Questions already might be being asked about me. In six months, in a year, in three years, someone will eventually suspect me enough to investigate." Investigate, arrest, hang. Or rather, attempt to arrest me while I kill everyone and flee to some dark corner of the world where no one will look. Not my idea of a way to live your life, then or now.

"Surely we can do everything we can to make your cover as strong as possible," said Armen, "What other choice do we have?" A reluctance grabbed me by the gut, as I realised the great threat to our enterprise.

"There's a problem with that idea," I said, "The Baron has a wife who lives in Halamshiral, right?"

"That's right..." Julie said, head tilted.

"Her name is Cecile," I said, "I met her during our imprisonment... she was the royal prosecutor, the one attempting to have me killed for murder and apostasy." Only Julie and Armen reacted, their eyes opening wide, before falling, realising the problem at last.

"So what?" asked Ciara

"She's probably the only person alive who knows that I was imprisoned," I replied, "She thinks I'm a noble, at least, but that won't matter when she contradicts the entire story of how Julie and I got out of the prison."

Tam snorted with derision and crossed her arms. "So we kill her," she said, "It's you or her. You're worth more." I was touched by her regard for me, and a little taken aback by her willingness to kill for it. There was an inconvenient fact standing in the way of me agreeing to that course of action however, beyond what would happen if the Baron found out.

"She has children," I said firmly, "I'm not going to kill her to cover my own ass unless it's the last resort."

"If she shows up with a small army, will that be the last resort?" asked Tam, a tinge of anger entering her voice, "Will you let her threaten us all? I won't forgive that." Would I let the Baroness threaten Tam or Julie, was the unspoken question I suspect. She had a point. Eliminating the Baroness, perhaps on the road or at night in her home, would have been the most prudent course of action. But I couldn't do it.

"Any army she brings won't be large enough to capture us," I replied, "I won't orphan her children otherwise. That's final." Tam turned her head away, and I worried that I had insulted her a little. Truth be told, she was simply conceding the point badly.

"What can we do?" asked Julie, "As we do not seem to be playing the Game?" Fuck the Game, I thought.

"I have an idea," said Armen, holding his hand up, "If you'll hear it." I perked up a little at that. The mage was wise beyond his years, albeit loyal to his cause. Which others were well aware of.

"If it involves the Mage Rebellion, I don't want to hear it," said Tam before anyone else could speak, "I am just saying that before you start, so you understand." I began to understand as I listened, that Tam was in the worst mood of all of us, about not being able to leave Thedas and go to Earth. Her hatred for the Qun is very much that of a born-again heretic, and her fears that they would hunt her down would haunt her for years to come.

"Luckily, it does not," Armen replied with a great deal of patience and grace, "Not directly anyway."

"Go on," said Tam, scepticism evident in her tone.

"We flee to Ferelden," Armen said, "King Alistair and Queen Anora have proven themselves to be sympathetic to the plight of mages. They granted the Ferelden Circle a good measure of independence after the Blight. The kingdom is in dire need of aid, aid that you can give them with your knowledge if you wish. They are hostile to the Orlesians, we should be safe there."

I groaned. The idea of travelling again so soon... Giving up my knowledge for refuge didn't seem like a fair trade to me either. Even the civilian improvements I had in my head would have given the country a huge advantage over the others, one that could be turned into military success with no real trouble at all. That is to say nothing about the military ideas and technology in my noggin, or the vast knowledge of my library, either. For that sort of leverage, they would have had to make me king. Still, I wasn't hearing any other good ideas, so I was prepared to go along with it.

Until Julie stood and spoke.

"No, I will not leave Orlais," she said, mustering some cold steel from her heart, "I will not run, I will not leave behind my family, I will not let _them_ drive me away." As her father had been driven away, as her mother had...

For me, that was enough to settle the question. Tam looked like she appreciated the response as well. I wondered if that was because Ferelden couldn't hold off the Qunari, but I was also sure it was moments like that when Julie was most attractive. Eyes flashing, fists clenched, back straight, glorious words on her lips. We were far from the only people to be enthralled by the sight over the years. Aside from the fact that we would be dead without such charisma, it was intoxicating to be in her presence when she was like that.

Even Armen accepted her answer with his usual quiet smile.

"Umm, so what do we do?" asked Ciara.

"We prepare," said Julie, "If they're coming for us, we get ready. We should have time for that."

"More easily said than achieved," said Tam, before smiling, "But I will enjoy the challenge."

"Better for the mages of Orlais too, I have to admit," said Armen, "You will need them, if you want to stand and fight." Both Tam and Julie looked a little troubled at that, but a quick glance at me, and their expressions softened. Evidently, my Fade-immunity was a significant advantage for us over any magical force to the extent that it eased their concerns.

* * *

Thus, we decided to stay and fight all our would-be enemies, and make Hearth our home.

We discussed necessary steps at length, enough length that fully recalling the conversations here would be tedious, but I shall summarise them. I think it's fair to say we had three things on our mind. Money, mages and military might, in that order.

We discussed money, as it would definitely be the biggest hurdle to our aims. Nobles are not poor, not in Orlais anyway. They steal money from the backs of the peasantry and merchant classes, and they spend it frivolously. Or so Julie said. Apparently, the Baron didn't do the last part, even if his purse was filled by the former. I took her word on it. There was one huge advantage that we had; my knowledge from Earth.

America, my homeland, is what we call a 'consumer economy' and it shows. There are many wonderful things to buy, and if you sell them, you are made for life. If you're really good, you're made for several lifetimes over. Of course, with no competitors on the backwards-ass markets of Thedas, I could make us significant amounts of money in very little time. We wrote down some simple stuff that we could manufacture easily that would sell like hot-cakes, all the way up to things that would require years to develop but could probably fund entire countries if done right.

Capitalism, the first step to democracy from feudalism. Marx would be spinning in his grave at the notion, I'm sure. Good thing _Das Kapital_ didn't make it across, or maybe our banners would have had hammers and sickles. Julie and Tam almost put them on as it was. Julie seemed particularly glad that we weren't going to rely on our 'vassals', something I still didn't understand and she didn't explain until later.

The mage situation was what we discussed next. It was far more complex than Armen had indicated before. Circles were in a state of unrest across the entire continent. A system of warning signs had been established by the Grand Enchanter, Fiona, after the Chantry forbade any more meetings of the College of Enchanters. Under increasing oppression, the Rebellion seemed certain to break into a war phase, particularly as the more fervent rebels secretly departed their Circles and made their way to Andoral's Reach, a fortress in the north west of Orlais. A vote to separate the Circles from the Chantry had failed. That they were calling it a Rebellion at all despite the lack of real fighting was proof enough that fighting would start sooner or later. I feared we had moved that situation along further by accidentally triggering the warning for Halamshiral.

Armen explained that the mages there had been primarily isolationists or ' _Lucrosians_ ', people wanting nothing to do with the conflict, because they either wanted to be left alone or their real interest was in building up wealth. They were not likely to engage in questionable magical practices either, a point he stressed pretty hard to soothe Tam's prejudices on the subject. By now, they probably had scattered to the four winds to hide from the Templars, to places known only to mages or to the forests that dominated the Dales. There were a couple of hundred of them at least, according to our resident mage.

After giving Julie, Tam and I a hopeful look for about a minute, it was agreed that our previous idea about contacting them should be extended to one of giving shelter to those mages. The war hadn't broken out yet, and with my ability, we could convince anyone that they were safe under my supervision. That was an extremely naïve view on my part, one that would cause us a great deal of trouble, but it wasn't entirely off the mark either. I _could_ kill any mage that fell to demonic influence, and I was immune to blood magic. That wouldn't necessarily stop people believing it was unsafe, or against the teachings of the Chantry. However, since the priestesses would be against us anyway, suspecting that I myself was something magical and for our association with Armen, I didn't really care at the time.

The conversation turned naturally from there to military might. It started with a remark by Tam that mages would give our survival a real boost, for when the Crown, the Templars or the Ben-Hassrath came a'knocking. Armen expressed a little more doubt on that front, explaining that almost none of the mages that would come had never seen combat. Which I could have guessed, as being locked up in a tower for most of your life doesn't see you put onto battlefields too often. Nobles had their pet battlemages and the rest were left to rot, as far as I could tell.

Ciara asked about my Earth weapons, and I explained the situation there. I had a dozen or so of each type of weapon with me; firelances, shotguns, handcannons. That wasn't great, but it was certainly better than nothing. Ammunition was a little more troublesome. I had tens of thousands of shots for the firelances, but only about two hundred for the handcannons and about sixty for the shotguns. Beyond that, I had a significant amount of explosive compounds but only a handful of detonators, composite armour for a dozen more people on top of the armour I had already distributed, another half dozen radio transmitters and headsets, and a good number of sensory devices for seeing in the dark, seeing things by heat, distance-finding, etc. Bottom line was that we couldn't rely on those too much. Resupply wasn't coming. I would need to train to use a bow, was Tam's recommendation. I agreed, having no desire to draw still more attention to my weapons and equally no desire to hear my gun go _click_ with no more bullets to feed it. That idea would never really bear fruit.

Once I was done explaining that, Ciara and Armen expressed a wish to go back to bed, so they went off.

Which left the three of us with nothing to do at about four in the morning. With our stresses built up, we decided to work them out until daybreak. Tam in particular needed that, as Earth had been robbed from her. It was a sad thing to see, a person's hopes taken away from them. Julie and I made her the centre of attention for a couple of hours. She cheered up, just a little, despite knowing that we weren't going anywhere. Perhaps because of it.

* * *

Needless to say, the next two or three weeks were extremely busy.

By the end, I had thoroughly explored Hearth in the cause of restoring the former home of Francoise des Arbes, remembering her promise that I would be safe there. When a dead woman makes you a promise like that, you tend to believe them. I even thought that it was perhaps a little prophetic. The Fade is funny with time.

The town had the hallmarks of actual planning in its layout, an indicator of its foundation as a human colony town after the Exalted March against the Dales. It was divided into four districts, all surrounded by the curtain wall. The space was almost perfectly divided in four by the two main avenues, but there, the semblance of design ended. In the middle was the town square I had seen on my first night, which was much more lively in the daytime.

The southwestern district belonged to the merchants, and was most familiar to me as it was where Élodie and Claire lived with their families. It was surprisingly well-to-do around there, and not entirely dominated by humans either. If I had to guess, I would have said the split was about fifty-fifty in terms of the 'races', though I use that term with a pinch of salt for reasons that you will discover. The houses there were larger, the streets were a little more clean and the people wore half-masks without fail. The district connected to the palisade section of the town via the southern gate, where many of the merchants were forced to work so to prevent fires. The 'softer' industries remained within the walls however. I spent a lot of hours there with Julie, deciding on bedding and curtains in my guise as Marquis, throwing money around like an idiot. At least I got some comfortable clothes for my trouble as well, as walking around in Earth garb all the time drew far more eyes. I refused the idea of donning a mask myself, though Julie picked two up for later. Deep blue ones with red and white highlights.

The south-eastern district was what would be called the alienage in western Orlais or Ferelden, but the term didn't really apply to a town in the Dales. On Earth, we would call it the working class neighbourhood if we were being polite, the projects or a slum if we were being a little more honest. This was almost entirely housing, with the occasional tavern, and it was dominated heavily by elves. The clue was in the hoods. I only went there once, with Tam and Ciara, to find some guy who was apparently the best carpenter in the business before he had retired. We couldn't find him, even with Ciara's help in negotiating the ethnic divide. Which was a little off-putting to say the least, along with the immense filth of the place.

The north-eastern district was the docklands, where most of the trading went on. This was where most of the human freemen and workers lived, alongside shops, taverns and brothels a plenty. Leha lived there, and I found myself visiting her place three times to get help on buying more basic materials for fixing the château. Despite her attitude, she was very _very_ good at her job. I had feared we would need to sell the dragon's teeth to fund the renovations, but thanks to her, it wasn't necessary. I often travelled in this district with Armen, after seeing a man get stabbed for his coin purse on my first visit. I didn't exactly want to blow anyone away to make my point, so travelling with someone who was obviously a mage was my idea of deterrence. It worked horrendously well. Perhaps it wasn't the best move, as the Chantry chapel was also in that district, bordering the main square. I'm sure the Revered Mother had eyes on us.

Lastly, the north-western district was for the nobles and their servants. Mostly for the latter. Almost all of the nobility, consisting of some eleven chevaliers and their families, lived on their own estates outside the walls. I was technically the twelfth, though I maintained my own title of Marquis, which was supposedly significantly higher than anyone else's title. They maintained grand houses inside however, to participate in the Baron's governance of the town and its lands. The Baron's own house was called 'The Keep', as it was at the most north-westerly point of the town and was well-fortified on the outside. The majority of the buildings there were for the servants though, being decent but not on the level of the merchants' own. They served as a protective buffer from the vices of the docklands and the slum, the houses of the rich surrounded by those they gave patronage to. I toured the place once on my own, making note of the layout, defences, guard posts and the like.

If I was on the brink of being discovered, that was where I would have to take the fight, after all.

* * *

Our new home was much changed.

I renamed the château from 'Ancienmaison' to "L'Ambassade" on the first day, another piece of politics to strengthen my hand on Julie's suggestion. I had Armen use his magic to carve a large piece of black marble for me, with the words "Embassy of the United Nations of Earth" in Latin and Dwarfish script, and in both Orlesian and the Common Tongue. He couldn't do the symbol though, as it was too complex to put on the stone in the size I wanted, so I just had him put a simplified version of the eagle from my tattoo on it instead. It looked bizarre to me, the mixture of symbols from two different entities, but it would look official to anyone else. We placed the stone just outside the gate. Even Orlesians recognise some measure of diplomatic immunity.

It was an annoying task, even with magical assistance, but we also gutted the rooms and the attic to replace everything in them. Tam objected to anything staying, fearing the return of spirits to the place, so that was one thing. The place was in bad need of renovations as well regardless. Apparently I had very good credit, courtesy of my new holdings, and Julie exploited it to the maximum. We also had the small chest of gold and silver that she had salted away from the taxmen, which she had buried not too far from the château itself. The place really looked like a palace by the end of it. There was nothing stupidly expensive, like gold fixings or something along those lines, but everything practical was of the highest quality. It was far from minimalist too.. When I fell into one of the beds for the first time, I thought I'd never get up again. Never had a bed that comfortable before, not even on Earth.

Aside from the work, I got to know my companions a lot better.

I learned that Julie liked spice-tea from Antiva, black with honey when she could get it. Expensive but essential, apparently. She drank it while reading Machiavelli, Rousseau and Hobbes... Heavy hitting stuff. She devoured the texts, reading them cover-to-cover in two days each, collapsing into bed once the sun began to fall. Tea on the bedstand, steaming away, book in hand. The library we kept was moved from the old smithy to the new place as soon as the latter was liveable. After that, came the smithy's equipment and tools. The château had a forge building too, though it was smaller and we would have to build a bigger one, but she used it anyway. Julie paid attention to every detail, so that we could be comfortable and maintain the illusion of our nobility. I was quite grateful that she took the reins on that. I wouldn't have known where to begin. Between playing lord of the manor and actually being one, there's a knowledge gap to say the least. We grew closer, talking long into the nights about the ideas she had been reading about as Tam listened.

Tam became considerably more affectionate. I think she previously had a fear, whether at the front of her mind or the back of her subconscious, that we would abandon her. Our arrangement up until that time was a great deal more quid pro quo, simple physical pleasure exchanged. When we didn't leave her to her fate or drive her off after the possibility of going to Earth became nil, the fear disappeared and her armour dropped away. She spent her free time hunting or practising archery with Ciara in the courtyard, listening to Julie read aloud while laying beside her, trading insults with Leha seemingly for fun, or watching Armen. As for myself, the majority of my contact with her in those days was either work-related or bed-related, with or without Julie. The Qun suppresses many things, and passion seems to be among them. The genie was well and truly out of the bottle on that one. I found myself becoming affectionate to her too, catching myself smiling at her or waking up enveloped by her. She put 100% into everything and anything she did, which was more than you could say about Julie or I.

Ciara stayed her cheery, excitable self. I didn't see her very much at all, as she opted to explore our new land for most of the daylight hours, mapping it out for me. When I did see her, it was during the aforementioned archery practice with Tam or with a report on what was out there. In the evenings, she had Armen start work on the garden, clearing out the huge weeds and rejuvenating the soil there. A little flame here and there had that task completed in no time at all. She seemed entirely undisturbed by the potential dangers ahead of us, or perhaps even relished them. It would be a considerable period of time before I met a Dalish clan, so this struck me as bizarre but welcome nonetheless. I'm sure Armen appreciated her boundless enthusiasm as well.

The mage himself found that he was best suited to any number of jobs that needed to be completed. The stone carving, the garden, lifting heavy objects like they were nothing, he took on the work with good grace. The reason why was obvious. Two days into the work, he sent off what I thought was a raven with a message attached to its leg. We finally made contact with the nascent Mage Rebellion. The full circumstances of our escape from Halamshiral went with it, along with the details of my fake identity. He sent a raven to someone else as well, with similar details, but refused to say to whom and what exactly he had said. I knew he wouldn't endanger us, as that would mean putting a torch for his plans for me, so I let him away with it. For leisure, he spent time with Ciara and learned to read Latin letters. When I asked him why he would bother, Armen made mention of wanting to know about Earth's knowledge of the material world. I have to admit, I was impressed with that motivation.

The person I spent most time with when the sun was up was Leha, which was unpleasant but necessary. Aside from being a trader, she was an alchemist. Both skillsets helped me with my ideas for making coin. Aside from various tools, which we could copy from examples that I had brought with me, there was the alcohol. My father was fond of making moonshine, to the eternal embarrassment of my mother. Like father like son. Leha informed me of the sorts of drinks that nobles and ambitious merchants liked, and I came up with the products to match. By the third week, we had a whole range planned and a trademark. The former was mostly grain alcohols with various sweeteners, the sort of thing I wouldn't touch with a bargepole but that would please the yuppies of either world. The latter was a simple eagle, identical to that on the entrance stone, with " _L'Ambassade_ " underneath it in Dwarfish script. The first of many profitable ventures, I am proud to report.

As Julie is fond of saying, the sinews of war are infinite money. Cicero was another item on her reading list. War was indeed coming, and we could feel its approach. Settling into Hearth was the strangest experience of my life, but it was among the most pleasant as well. The most strange event happened just as I was getting used to things.

* * *

"What the hell do you mean he wants to see us?" I said over breakfast, "It's been weeks, and we haven't heard a peep out of him."

Leha sighed, having arrived minutes earlier from the town herself. She had burst into our new kitchen on the ground floor looking red and flustered, which reminded me a little of how she had shown up before the Baron's first arrival. I looked to the others around the table, and most seemed as irritated at the prospect as I did. It was Armen and Julie eating with me. Tam and Ciara were out hunting yet again.

"His seneschal told me to run down here and tell you," Leha panted, "The Baron will be coming, and he won't be alone."

That really got my attention.

"Please tell me that the Revered Mother isn't the company with him," I groaned, "She already gives Julie an earful every time she goes down to the chapel." Lectures about appropriate relationships, the threat of mages, and bitching about why I wasn't going to sing the Chant of Light with my betrothed. My patience with the woman was severely tested, to say the least. Tam avoided similar censure by actually showing up, which I found rather a hilarious diversion for my nerves.

"No, it's the corvée levy," said Leha, rolling her eyes, "I don't actually know what the hell that means, I don't speak Orlesian... but 'expect a crowd' was the feeling I got from the conversation."

"A crowd of what?" asked Armen, not even looking at the dwarf as he asked before stuffing a large piece of bread into his mouth. He was filling out pretty well in a good way. I had shown him some physical training techniques early-on, and he took to them.

"Serfs," Julie replied.

I narrowed my eyes.

"Serfs?" I asked, not quite sure if I had heard her correctly.

"We're lord and lady of Ancienmaison now, remember?" she said, "We have vassals that owe us corvée... labour, and tithes of crops."

A bolt of disgust rippled down my throat. I hadn't considered that possibility. Hell, I had no idea how much land I actually owned, never mind that I would actually have what were effectively indentured servants or slaves to work it. The idea I had was to make money by exploiting my knowledge, not force peasants to hand over their crops to me. Slavery of that sort has a dark history in my world. I was determined to have nothing to do with it.

"We're not going to have vassals," I said firmly, "I don't care if every country in the world marches on us, I'm not treating people like animals."

Julie smiled at that. My stress melted away a little. I was worried for a moment that she had bought into the whole idea. It would have been completely contrary to her character, to roll with it. I smirked back. She had been waiting for this moment.

"You had no intention of going along with it, did you?" I asked flatly. She shook her head slowly.

"We'll let them work the land for free, or pay them for other work on contract," she replied, "We're going to need them to maintain our image, but that doesn't mean we need to play the way we're expected to." Which was true, and I felt a lot better about it as it donned on me that I would probably have military obligations as well. If Des Arbes thought I was going to be using my Earth weaponry for his benefit or that of the Crown, he was pissing up the wrong tree.

"I'm confused," said Armen, "Why not charge them a rent?" A fair question from someone who didn't know where my objection was coming from. He hadn't read the history books yet.

"Can't say I understand either," Leha added, "Take some money if they're going to be working anyway." Because it isn't ours to take, I thought.

Julie sighed, frustrated that the other two hadn't got the picture yet. "We will need the peasants' support if we're going to get through this," she explained after a moment to think, "When mages start showing up, or nobles start getting agitated by our presence, we can't have an angry mob ready to support templars or chevaliers coming to kill us. I'd prefer if the angry mob was on our side." Or something a lot more capable than an angry mob, as I began to think about the possibilities.

Armen hummed his approval and returned to his meal, while Leha just looked even more confused with her brow furrowed deeply.

"Why would chevaliers be out to kill you?" the dwarf asked, "I get templars, necessary risk if we're going to bring mages in. The profits justify it. But why would the nobility care?" Armen had a little chuckle to himself, knowing something she didn't.

Julie had opted to keep Leha in the dark about my true origins, until she was sure that it would be safe to reveal such a dangerous thing. Or more accurately, until we were making money hand-over-fist and Leha wouldn't be tempted to hand me over to whoever wanted me in return for a fat payday. Her obsession with money really did border that closely on the obscene, an irony we would be glad for in the coming years.

"We're going to be making a lot more money than they are, and they're going to resent that," I said, using the lesser truth to cover my real fear, "Julie is a commoner raised up by a foreign noble, we'll be outcasts even if we don't proceed with our plans." Plans we had to go ahead with if we were to both stay alive and stay in Hearth.

"There are eleven chevaliers under the Baron apart from you, and I don't think any of them will look at you twice," Leha said, "You're just someone he brought in to manage this part of his land, that's all." That was what I hoped was the case myself, but we had no idea of his real intentions.

"Only time will tell," said Julie, "With the loyalty of the people the Baron will … give to us, we can do much more than if we simply exploit them."

"They'll all be elves with no other opportunities, or second-sons and their families," replied Leha, "I doubt loyalty would be a problem."

"Loyalty enough to fight the nobles when it comes to that?" Julie asked, "No, we need to bind them to us, make them family almost. That's the only way."

"Fine, the Baron will be here in a couple of hours," Leha said, throwing her arms up, "I'll see you then."

The dwarf stormed off out of the building, into the garden. She nearly collided with Tam, who was rounding the corner, but a quick sidestep saw her dodge both the Qunari and Ciara behind. Loud mutterings boomed in her wake, which pissed me off a little.

I waved our companions over with a frown, as they set aside their bows. Tam gave a curious look, while Ciara dropped herself into a seat next to Armen.

"What did the dwarf want?" asked Tam, as she entered the room from the sunshine outside. My eyes wandered for a moment, before I remembered she had asked a question.

"The Baron is coming, with peasants to work the land," I said, "Leha's not happy that we want to pay them to work for us."

Tam merely shrugged her indifference. Her circle of concern was always tight-knit.

"So more people are coming?" Ciara asked cheerfully.

"Yes," replied Julie, "I don't know how many yet, but we'll see."

* * *

 _AUTHOR'S NOTE: The concluding chapter of Volume II: Laws & Customs... Very much a set-up for what's going to happen next. Which I'm quite excited about. Not much badassery this time I'm afraid, but that's what the next chapter is for._

 _To those awaiting my Mass Effect stories, November will be a Mass Effect month. Updates for Battlefield 2183, 2157: The Secret History of the First Contact War, and Wars of the Systems Alliance. En masse, I hope._

 _For the record, I have all three of the player characters from Origins, DA:II and Inquisition planned out, based on the three styles that exist in the games. One will be aggressive, one will be humourous, and one will be a paragon. One of each class as well. As you can guess, Amell was the mage and the aggressive one._

 _Seems like the last chapter was a little controversial on two points: Grey Warden Joining and Morrigan's Dark Ritual, and how the crew would know the secrets of either of them._

 _On the first point, I doubt that the ritual's basic point, drinking darkspawn taint, is a great secret to Sten, either now that he's Arishok or when he was still Sten. Furthermore, it has occurred to me since writing the chapter that the real secret of the Joining is the drop of archdemon blood. The group certainly doesn't know about that._

 _On the second point, there are people out there with some knowledge of what Morrigan and the Warden did. Alistair seems to have some idea in Inquisition, for instance. If he knows, it's not exactly a stretch that Sten knew, and thus could pass the knowledge onto Tam. Aside from that, people could have deduced that Morrigan had done something with the Warden even if the latter had kept entirely quiet. After all, in this version of events, no one died as a result of slaying the Archdemon, which conveniently solved a serious problem just after Morrigan did something. The assumption that it was blood magic is fairly standard follow-on from that. Her fleeing afterwards would make perfect sense in that context, as there would be no shortage of people looking for her and/or the kid if they knew about that detail, which I assumed Sten did. All of which assumes the Hero said only a little. He could have revealed most or all of it afterwards._

 _ **5 Coloured Walker:** Mages would indeed need authorisations to roam, but news travels relatively slowly in Thedas and there is the bureaucracy of the problem to consider. Made worse by the unrest in the Circles, I might add. Expect trouble on that front. It was obvious there would be some._

 _ **Meebsterman:** Masshole indeed. _

_There will be massive statues. Whether or not they'll be of Hunt, remains to be seen. I have one in particular in mind._

 _ **Blinded in a Bolthole:** Cheers for the reviews... though you know a guy who's actually into horned chicks? That's... almost an achievement in itself._


	18. Chapter 18: Sherwood

**Chapter Eighteen: Sherwood**

The next lesson I learned in Thedas is every power in the world will resist change with all the might they can bring to bear. Powers both temporal and supernatural. If I didn't know better, I would have said that Thedas exists as a petri dish for a capricious god to watch mortals suffer in as many interesting ways as they themselves can dream of. Regardless of what now may be known about the Fade, the idea of immortality of the sort offered by that realm still strikes me as more of a punishment than a reward. Julie says souls merely pass through it to join the Maker, even after all that has happened. I am not so sure. Of course, the material world here has just as many ways to cause suffering as my own did, and it was those I was primarily concerned with before the Breach opened and madness started.

A practical demonstration of this lesson was forthcoming a few months after we set up in Hearth, but to understand it, I should probably relay the conversation I had with the Baron, just before he introduced me to my would-be vassals.

Des Arbes came to the château and invited me to his home, as Leha had said, and had his servants distract Julie and Tam while he walked us into a lounge room. I had some trepidations about whether or not he wanted to harm me as we walked into the ornate room. I had even more about whether or not I'd find his damned lawyer of a wife sitting there, waiting with twelve Templars and a pair of bracelets. Thankfully, I found only tastefully luxurious furnishings, including two seats and a table looking out of a large window to the countryside over the walls. I was surprised to see such a gap in the defences of the Keep, though I later learned there was a portcullis that came down over the window during sieges.

The noble bade me to sit, and I did so. He followed suit, and poured himself a glass of wine without offering me a similar refreshment. Prick.

"You are in an interesting situation, Marquis," the Baron began in Orlesian, as he set down his mask where the glass had been.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Your strange behaviour," he continued, "It is troubling to see someone with noble blood like yours, acting as you are. Spending money so frivolously on things only the merchants think of as aristocratic? Buying up half the town's supplies with that dwarven lowlife.. You are already the talk of the chevaliers." I snorted my derision at his disapproval. After all, with what I knew, I'd be richer than the entire Empire of Orlais if I wanted to be. If this was his game, playing the hauteur, I could double down on that.

"We don't spend our money on unnecesssary crap where I'm from," I lied, "Those of high rank are expected to be brave, grand, and above all, prudent." Utter horse manure. High grade. Sure, the expectations were there, but they were followed on a patchy basis at best. I'm not sure if he realised that, but the Baron smirked a little nonetheless, like I was quaint. He was probably comparing me to the Fereldan nobility in his mind, but I couldn't know that at the time. Just thinking about it stresses my ass even today.

"The Revered Mother keeps petitioning me to call forth soldiers to deal with your apostate mage," he continued, swirling his glass before taking a gulp, "Personally I do not care, I would hire such a useful individual myself if I could, but she will only appeal to me for so long before going to her superiors directly." Now with the veiled threats.

"Mother Brandon has been informed at every opportunity that my mage is Andrastian and on detached service from the Circle," I replied, "It's her prerogative to disbelieve, but she saw what I'm capable of. No one should be worried about Armen, he's harmless." An eyebrow cocked briefly at that. I was tempted to add that Armen couldn't hurt me even if he turned into a giant Fade gorilla, but I thought better of it.

"You are buying strange materials and equipment for some unknown purpose, and Mother Brandon knows it," said the Baron, grey eyes piercing me, "Then there is the matter of your weapons..."

I felt his gaze keenly, and returned it as best I could through my calculations. I'm sure he could see the cogs turning in my head as I tried to work out what this conversation was about. He took another sip of his wine, and I decided I had enough of the Game. Time to cut out the bullshit.

"If you don't have any business with me, I'll go," I said, leaning back into the generously padded leather chair, "Otherwise, I'm listening."

"Something about you smells, Lord Hunt," he said with a shit-eating grin on his face, "I can't figure out what yet, but I _will_ find out eventually."

If it had been anyone else, I might have felt fear or anger upon hearing those words. However, as it was Pierre Des Arbes and not someone else, I failed entirely to suppress the laughter that bubbled out of my lips at that. If his intention was to put me off balance or even threaten me seriously, this was a terrible plan. He had brought me past his guards, into a room with just the two of us, and I was far from unarmed.

Impressively, the man's grin remained even as I retrieved my handcannon from behind the back of my new silk shirt and pointed it at about waist height in his direction. A nice dramatic flick of the safety to the fire position had no effect either, which was disappointing.

"Perhaps I shouldn't wait until you figure it out," I said, waving the barrel slightly.

The Baron sighed and polished off his glass, before setting it down and taking up his mask into his hands. He didn't put it on, just held it. My resolve didn't waver at his apparent irritation, but I had to wonder if he was mad. Pierre des Arbes was far from mad.

"You took something precious from me, Lord Hunt," he said, with a wave of the glass.

"Not intentionally," I replied, "Deal with it. She's not a toy, not something to be fought over like children with candy." I was even a little insulted for Tam. After all, I hadn't 'taken' Julie alone.

"Certainly not," agreed Pierre, "But if you stand in the way, you have to ask yourself why I have not made a move to... remove you from the picture yet." It was a reasonable point, but I had thought about that more than a little over the few weeks between my first meeting with the man and this one.

"She would know," I said, "And you would fail. At which point Count Glockula and Madame Beretta would be making a visit along with a very pissed off Qunari." I waved the weapon from the wrist again, so he'd know exactly what I meant.

The Baron's smile went from one of cunning triumph to one of actual amusement, though I couldn't figure out whether or not it was because of his self-belief or whether he thought the notion of our coming to kill him was funny. It made my stomach rise a little.

"You are still alive because you are useful to me alive," he said, "You are obviously of military bearing, and these are troubled times. For the past two years, there has been fighting between we minor nobles of Orlais, over who should be the sovereign. You know this, I think..."

I nodded, remembering Ser Milo Duval and his cause.

"Who do you support, Celene or Gaspard?" I asked.

"Celene, but it does not matter," said Pierre, "Regardless of who I support, I cannot afford to throw away any advantage. The Game has become even more deadly than usual. Perhaps, there will be civil war. A lack of resolution means we must prepare for the worst."

Annoyed by the realisation that he didn't want to throw me to the dogs, I lowered my weapon to my lap with a scowl on my face. What he was saying fit my impression of him. Julie was important, yes, but he didn't strike me as the sort to throw it all away for a mistress. Besides, he couldn't. He had family to take care of aside from all of that. His legacy for one. Children he did in fact love even if he didn't love their mother in the usual respect as well.

"So, I am to be your personal flying monkey then?" I asked, causing genuine confusion. Wizard of Oz, in case you haven't seen the play.

"Problem-solver," Pierre corrected, "You will raise levies like my other manor-lords, and you will help me destroy my enemies." Which answered the question of why he would send me vassals. Can't raise troops if you have no one to recruit, and it's not like there were any real professional armies in Orlais. Soldiers were peasants, and peasants are tied to the land of their lord.

"And if I don't?" I asked, already knowing where this was going.

"Then I cannot protect you from the forces that will be coming," he said with a renewed triumphant smile, "Even if you kill me, they are coming. I can slow them down, I can hide your presences here, perhaps even stop them from looking at all."

"And you would do that?" I asked. It was now my turn to be confused.

"Of course. If the Chantry kills you, Julie will most likely be standing next to you when it happens, and I would prefer she lived," the Baron said, "Of course, with the dangers you will face in my name, perhaps you will die, no?" His smile disappeared, replaced by a keen interest in my response.

"Leaving you free to court her again," I nodded, "I see your angle now." In other words, it was win-win for him. Either he had a highly capable tool at his disposal, or Julie was free for him to pursue. I don't think he was reckoning with Tam's presence, or perhaps he intended to tolerate her. Which wouldn't go well either way.

"Originally, I was going to use the Revered Mother to deal with you and your mage, but when I saw you kill those giant spiders... Let's just say that I had a moment of divine inspiration" he chuckled, "So Marquis, if that really is your title, shall we cooperate?"

The finger laid against the side of my handcannon itched for a moment. My gut told me to blast a hole in his forehead, but my common sense told me to accept. I'd made a lot of enemies in a very small space of time, and very few friends with the sort of power that could protect me against the bigwigs out there. With a growl, I gave him a nod to signal my acceptance, unable to bring myself to vocalise it.

"Magnificent," he said, finally deeming me worthy of a glass of wine.

I picked it up, we toasted and drank. Despite my objections to the man's character, he had good taste in viticulture. I remember thinking that I really needed to sample the stock I had in our basement, we hadn't really tried the wine there yet. Julie and Tam entered the room and their eyes widened at the sight of us. Bet they didn't expect to see the Baron and I sitting down and drinking like civilised men. It was almost as if we respected each other.

* * *

The aforementioned vassals that had been sent me looked like a sorry bunch indeed, if you didn't possess my eye. Half-starved young elves, and humans that looked shifty to say the least. No one who looked like they had literally been dumped out of the town gaol or the slums, thankfully, but the idea of putting members of either group to work on the land as serfs seemed like a bad idea. The elves would wither and die, the humans would reject my authority, both would revolt. Thankfully, we had long rejected open thievery of that sort.

There were nearly a thousand of them, the vast majority between Ciara's age and my age. Young families with or without children, single people, and the occasional middle-aged person with a useful skill. The gender split was about 50-50, but the racial divide was more like 70-30 in favour of elves. They came with any property they could move easily, and I found the plaza around our home surrounded with carts and people when I returned.

The Baron had found them from the lands of the other chevaliers. Second sons who couldn't inherit and daughters who had married the wrong person or not married at all, these were the humans under my care. People whose lords they had pissed off or whose lords just wanted their land, often to be given to a human family, these were the elves I had given to me. To most Thedosians, practically all except the Qunari, they were refuse, both human and elven. To me, they were solid gold. Just whom I needed.

If they had been trusted vassals of the chevaliers or had never had it bad, I could have never won their loyalty.

I set about that task immediately. It took a week, but I sat down with every one of my vassals and un-vassalised them. They weren't to be shackled to the land by feudal crap that went out centuries before I was born on Earth. I couldn't have that, and I refused to benefit from it. I'm sure my father would have been proud to see it, patriot that he was. Jolly fat armchair patriot in his later days. I replaced all the oaths of fealty with contracts. Whether or not an Orlesian court would have upheld them, I don't know, but none of them were ever broken badly enough for the issue to come up.

Some signed up as farmers, more as labour for the new enterprise that Leha and I were working on. The most physically capable, I steered in the direction of soldiering for me. The pay for that was better, but the work was harder, I told them. Almost everyone I offered it to took it. Those that didn't were mostly elves, that probably didn't trust me as a human. One or two humans didn't take it when they heard I was recruiting elves... I discharged those entirely.

The former peasants were very encouraged by the idea of regular pay, to say the least. It wasn't a great wage for most, but it was enough to have people smiling at me and thanking me as I passed. The wages would go up once we started making money as well, which was a subject of much shock when I announced it. I felt pity for them at such times, that they could be that happy over basic respect for the value of their work.

By the end of the first week of August, I had lovers and friends, pasture and tillage being looked after, a distillery and forge working, two hundred good people ready to start training to become real soldiers as opposed to hired thugs in mail with hundreds more coming, and an alliance with a bastard that would protect all of it as long as I could put up with him. Not bad for a guy who was in prison about a month earlier. My outlook was genuinely positive on all fronts for the first time.

Perhaps it was the measure of familiarity that had been restored to me, mixed with the good company and soft beds. The grounds of our château had been turned into a military camp. The order of the day: Drill, baby, drill.

For the next few months were all about drilling. I'll spare you the exact details, they're boring unless you're into that sort of thing and I've set them out in the more widely published book _The Free Army._ To be brief about it, I trained them to stand up and march straight on a parade ground, to march and fight together with swords and shields in close order, to shoot crossbows and longbows straight with Tam and Ciara, how to lay out a camp, how to stay clean, night watches, small unit tactics, combat engineering, horse riding, and above all, military discipline. Discovering who was right to lead the others was the worst task. I didn't have the benefit of resumés or background checks, and what I dredged up from my own background to fill those gaps was limited. Still, I got it done, even the horse riding.

Unfortunately, despite all the activity, we would not be entirely ready when our first test came.

We weren't the only people drilling either. Julie was training her apprentices, the number of which had risen considerably. Thankfully, she had one or two other blacksmiths to help her out there. The forge building went from a stone hunt to the size of a small factory in the space of weeks. The apprentices churned out basic stuff like tools, nails, that sort of thing. The other blacksmiths made weapons. We needed quite a few of those, as you can imagine. Swords, daggers, maces, crossbow parts, shield bosses. Julie herself was working on more exotic things with the help of Armen and I, but we'll get to that in due time. She was positively gleeful at the results of the whole scheme, which was relaxing to watch. Made nights a lot more fun too.

Tam began teaching the children, which she took to as naturally as you'd expect for someone trained since the age of twelve for the job. Julie got in on that too, teaching Orlesian and Common in Latin letters. I've never seen kids so calm in school. I certainly don't remember being that calm. Then again, if I had a teacher like Tam, strict yet insisting on a minimum of clothing, perhaps I would have sat still. She managed to work out the books from Earth on almost every subject. The basic subjects were joined with science, geography, political education and music. I was quite startled one morning as I woke up, and was confronted by twelve twelve-year-olds starting up to play _Preussens Gloria_. Tam had a good laugh when I fell over in surprise. I still hadn't discovered that coffee existed in Thedas yet, so I was easily dazed in the mornings. _Excuses, excuses._

Armen seemed to become half-evil scientist, half-miracle doctor. He set up a laboratory and a clinic, and split his time between the two. There was a lot of suspicion at first, to the point that he was shunned at best. Only the bravest of children would talk to him, and they'd get admonished by their parents for the trouble. I tried to intervene, but Armen himself stopped me. He said they would come to appreciate him, and he was right. A wave of measles blew through in the first week of Kingsway, hitting the whole town. Thanks to Armen, no one among our people died. Many in town were not so lucky. We had a long conversation about vaccines, after I just waltzed around near the infected without a care. The older parents were still wary after that, but everyone else warmed right up. Probably helped that he could have been a stand-up comedian. Word soon spread elsewhere that there was a healer at L'Ambassade.

Ciara led the hunting groups and settled disputes, her natural endearing charm and tendency to get right to the root of a problem helping immensely with the latter, her skills with a bow with the former. Carrot and stick was her favourite approach, and thanks to her, I almost never had to deal with the crap that I had expected to bother me. The garden looked spectacular after a few months of her work too. I was grateful for her efforts on both.

Leha managed the enterprises, as she had when it was just Julie to work with, and although she had a higher workload, she seemed to be enjoying herself. When she wasn't sulking about the money we were spending on wages. Grumpy as she was, she did the job. We paid off our debts and were growing our treasury bit by bit. Money is prettier here I have to say, and the temptation to start rolling around in a pile of gold and silver did enter my mind.

Despite all, we always managed to eat together every evening, often far later than we would have liked. I slept with Julie and Tam on the west side of the building. Safe behind what had practically become a small town in its own right.

Or so we thought. Ben-Hassrath assassins or Templars might have caused alarm, but there was one enemy that would raise no suspicion upon their approach, one we couldn't yet oppose openly.

* * *

On October 24th, or the 24th of Harvestmere to Fereldan readers, the Baron sent word that he would be arriving with important guests to meet us. He failed to mention who these important guests would be, but the tone of his letter left me an impression that he wasn't pleased to see them. I had talked to him enough over the intervening months to understand that much, doing small errands for him which were far from burdensome. His intent for us was clear: Be ready.

This was somewhat difficult a task. Armen and Ciara were away on business, Mage Rebellion business, which left me without my best Dalish scout and a walking weapon, not to mention two of the only people I really trusted to have my back. Not having Armen around in case the others got hurt was another problem. The estate was already in some unease over that, wondering where he had gone to.

So it was with annoyance that I had the captains of my two companies called to the kitchen during breakfast. I knew them by their ranks and nicknames only, as I did with most of the soldiers. Part of the process of breaking down their identities and rebuilding them, you see. Regardless, I had them call a parade inspection for the time the Baron would arrive. Both lived in the château, the perks of being officers having been established as an incentive for people to want to get promoted, but the kitchen was off-limits to anyone but us. Usually. They saluted and went to assemble everyone.

Julie and Tam remained silent, until we were back in our bedroom, donning full Earth panoply. I guess they were caught in their own thoughts on the matter, until I myself opened my mouth to hear them. It was the first time I had worn the full uniform since we settled in, incidentally.

"Any idea who we're meeting?" I asked, as I did up the straps on my armour.

"Templars?" Tam suggested, picking up a helmet from the bottom of her personal cabinet, "Would they not command the respect to do this?" I shivered with the prospect, but knew that it was a possibility. Which was precisely why I had ordered a full assembly, why I was putting on Terran armour as fast as I could, and why I was bringing a whole arsenal out with me.

"Could be," admitted Julie, "If someone in Halamshiral finally got around to figuring out how many died in the prison, we could be facing chevaliers." Yet another reason to tool up in my books, though the consequences of opening up on royal officers would be greater. The Chantry couldn't really afford to send enough Templars to kill us. The Empire had no shortage of chevaliers.

Julie hefted her firelance into her arms with one hand and pulled her long hair out from under the kevlar vest with the other. I paused in the middle of retrieving the large firelance to watch her for a moment, my breath catching a little at the sight. Julie noticed.

"Are both of you ready?" she asked with a smile, eyes moving between Tam and I. I turned to the Qunari, only to find she was equally as captivated. Which cheered me up to no end. I stood up straight with a grin on my face, and placed my blue beret on my head. With my heart lightened, I nodded and held my weapon close.

We left our room, jogged the corridor and down the stairs, exited the château and went through the garden to the northern archway. When I emerged from the long passage, I shivered. It was getting cold by that part of the year, and all the leaves on the trees had turned a spectacular red-orange. Against that backdrop, I saw that everything was ready. More or less.

Opposite the forge, all two hundred of my little army stood in passable parade formation on the grounds, divided by company and platoon neatly. All wearing chainmail, liberated from Duval's soldiers, made or bought. The front ranks wore helmets shaped very closely to my own, with additions of metal strips on the dome, cheek-pieces and a wide neckguard. Most were armed with short swords at their side, curved rectangular shields on their backs, light crossbows in their hands. Others had longbows, round shields and spears, the skirmisher platoons.

If you're from Earth and you know your history, imagine the army of Julius Caesar mixed with that of Henry V of England and Philip VI of France, and you have some idea of what I was building. I had to consult the history books I brought through myself on that point, I am not ashamed to admit. No firearms means you have to fight a little differently, so I learned from some of the best of my world. Thankfully, things are better nowadays.

The atmosphere among the troops felt quite wrong, different from usual, but I couldn't put my finger on it as I approached.

" _Portez vos armes!_ " shouted the sergeant-major, piercing me with the volume and weight of her voice. She was a short elf with long black hair and the most capable set of lungs I ever saw on a mortal being. Which is why I chose her for the role, aside from her proficiency with a crossbow. I called her Sergeant Mike, as in microphone, a nickname she responded to as quickly as her actual name... which I forget, as I only ever used it once. The reason is obvious. I spoke words at a normal volume, she amplified them ten-fold. Simple. She also happened to be an ex-huntress of wolves, which helped.

Of course, all commands were given in Orlesian. Peasants tended to have only a passing level of the Common Tongue, regarding their native language as very much their first choice. Only among merchant families was bilingualism considered important, and even they spoke Orlesian at home. This didn't bother me in the slightest, and indeed the language remains the first used in my new adopted homeland. To the ire of our neighbours.

I was horrified as the soldiers responded to the order as if hellhounds were chewing at the bit to eat them. That is to say quickly and in a panic. Their practised choreography had broken down completely as they raised their crossbows to their shoulders. They knew something was up. Their nervousness displeased me greatly, in a way only the failings of subordinates can irritate you, but I couldn't exactly do anything about it.

Julie, Tam and I mounted up on our horses. Tam on Fritz, obviously. Julie climbed up onto her Orlesian desert courser, a beautiful white horse that was a good bit smaller than ours. She named it _Revas_ , which if you speak the Elven tongue should give you a hint of her mindset at this time. All idealism. My horse was a huge red destrier, a little larger than Fritz. Unlike my previous names for equine animals, I knew I would face combat at some point while riding this one. Keeping away from the comedic, I named her _Bellona,_ for reasons I would be constantly explaining. The packhorses Lucky and Bob were with Armen and Ciara, in case you were wondering.

We trotted over to where Mike and the two captains were waiting.

"They look nervous," remarked Julie with a frown. It was so bad that even Julie's civilian eyes could see it. Tam's expression was studied but neutral, as she rode Fritz slowly along the line, watching. Most of the soldiers bristled in a wave as she passed, looking like they normally did for a moment. So, nothing particularly unusual there.

"Captains McNulty and Soprano..." I said, causing a ripple of salutes from the two, "Why do your companies look like like they're afraid of something?"

McNulty at least had the decency to look displeased at the state of the troops, scratching his short black hair a little. My eyes moved to him, waiting for a response. He shrugged it off with a smile, causing a crease in his chainmail as he did so. I felt a bubble of anger in my throat, but the reprimand for not answering me in an appropriate manner stuck there. He was nervous too. I looked to his company, and found them to be the most twitchy. His subordinates knew it too. Given that he was usually either a tide of drunken comedy, the soldier's soldier, or bubbling over with genius in the heat of an angry moment, this was a new thing for him and I didn't like it.

Soprano on the other hand was entirely cool-headed on the outside, a stern look pointed directly at her columns. One that would have put the fear of God into me, if I was a private. The tall elf was intimidating to say the least, and from the first moment I saw her, I knew she was officer material. She was visibly striking, to be politically correct about it, yet almost as terrifying as Tam on a killing spree. Perhaps more so, because she definitely wasn't a fan of kids. I had suspected she was a gang leader of some sort before being conscripted into my service, but she was very respectful during her interview, so I gave her a pass. I was rewarded with hard work from a hardass. She kept her people in line.

I had been tempted to nickname them Carrot and Stick respectively, but McNulty wasn't a redhead, so I thought better of it. Besides, they reminded me too much of the set of characters I did in fact name them after. Of course, they're famous now by those names, so they can hardly complain.

It was the latter of the two that spoke to answer me.

"There are fantastic rumours flying around, sir," Soprano said in her unusually deep tone, "They're afraid that the Baron is coming to remove you." And put us back in our box, being the unspoken fear. Another lesson there. With hope for the future comes fear of the past, specifically that the past will return and ruin everything. In this case, it was not an unjustified fear. I was unkind to them, at least in my heads, for their lack of backbone.

"The Baron would do no such thing," said Julie firmly, "And if he did, he wouldn't send word ahead to warn us. No, this is something else." I agreed.

Tam rode back over to us, with solemn stone in her eyes.

"We need to do something," she reported, "Or else."

"You don't say," replied McNulty, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "We're sitting with our asses hanging out here. We should move everyone to the windows inside, and let loose with the bows when the bastards arrive." Which would lead directly to our deaths, in all likelihood. No way we could cover our tracks if we did that, but I suspect the good captain didn't care.

"Or we arrange in battle line across the road and attack them there," Soprano said, pointing to the spot she thought best, "That way, we can chase down any runners." Except the enemy would run to town, and we'd likely only catch them once we were in sight of the walls and its guards. Still no good, though her enthusiasm to cut down all our enemies was encouraging at least.

"We're not killing the Baron without seeing what he wants first," said Julie with finality to the both of them, "Is that perfectly understood?" For a moment, I thought they would look to me for confirmation. This was the first time either of them had been ordered by her to do anything. I was afraid they would reject her, or look to me as their sole leader. That wasn't how I wanted it to go. Perhaps they could tell that, out of the corners of their eyes. Ì was underestimating Julie, however. They both simply stared at her, before deciding their course as one.

"Yes, Marquise," they said, before saluting. To make sure there wasn't any bad blood, between either party, I stepped in.

"They were good ideas, but the Marquise is right," I said, "We can't shoot first and ask questions later. You're not entirely wrong though, we need to do something..." I clicked my tongue, and Bellona trotted off down the line of soldiers. Eyes tracked me as I rode along. They were waiting for me to act. To reassure them. I could think of only one thing that could.

"Sergeant-Major!" I called.

"Yes sir!" Mike shouted back.

"Load and present arms," I said.

" _CHARGEZ VOS ARMES!_ " roared the diminutive elf, teeth bared as her mouth boomed out the words. The entire line moved to follow at an instant. Those with crossbows stooped to load them, threading a foot into the ring to pull the string back, before standing again to put a fresh bolt in each of the safetycatches. Those with longbows selected three arrows from their quivers, held two with their bows and nocked the third. It was still pretty sloppy though. A couple of people managed to drop their arrows or bolt in the process.

" _PRESENTEZ VOS ARMES!_ " Mike shouted, completing the command. All two hundred stepped forward a pace, and held their weapons out in front of them. This was accomplished much more smoothly, to my great relief. I rode back to the others, seeing that everyone had gotten the message I was trying to send. Combat could be coming, prepare yourself to act immediately without orders. It was good timing on my part too.

"Sam, Julie, look!" said Tam, throwing a glance in the direction of the rocky road to Hearth.

Down the avenue between the trees came a large procession. It was easy to pick out the Baron at the head of the group, his red mask standing out from the others, as the front ranks rode in on horseback. Behind them was a column of troops, maybe a hundred of them. They could have been the brothers of the men I had killed during the hilltop battle. Their armaments were pretty similar, longswords, shields, spears, chainmail and helmets. They were better protected than what our people had. They were carrying blue banners with a golden lion with them. I still had not selected heraldry or a banner of my own yet, and the lack of it annoyed me as I watched the sigils approach.

When they got closer, I could see the infantry were no peasants, at least not anymore. They might not have had the discipline I was trying to instil in the new soldiers, but they had the look that many hired thugs have. They were veterans of many a fight, and their scars showed. That had me readying the large firelance, checking the ammunition belt. Not that firing on horseback was a good idea, but a quick burst to scatter them would do the job until I could dismount.

They had three wagons with them, mostly empty, with only a few chests with them. That should have struck me as a clue, but my attention redirected itself to the Baron, as he rode ahead of the pack to join us with his favourite two lackeys. I nodded my greeting to him, which he returned before eyeing the lines of soldiers. I could tell already that he looked relieved to see them, which put all my fears forward in my head.

The mounted chevaliers, all thirty of them, stopped directly ahead of us. One of them at the rear called for the men-at-arms to stop at the gate, and he was obeyed instantly. Thankfully, that was just about the perfect spot for us to turn them into pincushions if it turned into a shitfight. I relaxed a little at the realisation that they'd have no chance in hell to get close to Julie or Tam before I could react.

"What is this?" I asked the Baron. The noble remained silent, and I couldn't work out why. His mask remained still, hiding his features, giving away nothing.

"This is a tax collection," said a voice to my right.

I turned to find the lead chevalier, riding from the far end of his group towards me. He wore a white mask with a gold rim and yellow feathering, the latter common to all chevaliers of course. He was a well-muscled person, I could tell, and he had an ornate cavalry sword to put that strength behind. Target number one, I said to myself in my head.

"Are you mad?!" Julie said loudly to the chevalier, "It's almost winter. People will starve."

"People will serve their ruler, and beg mercy from the Maker for their insolence!" replied the chevalier, "War is brewing with Nevarra and Ferelden, there is trouble to the south and in the Circles, and the Marquise believes we should be unprepared?"

"The only thing that money will prepare is more cake for your table!" Julie shouted, pointing a finger at him, "More gold lining for your clothes! It has nothing to do with swords to defend us!"

Of course, the supreme irony is that the money was for a war. It just happened to be a civil war, rather than trying to put the dog-masters back under-heel. A war we would not have to fight in, thank all the gods...

What happened next occurred in the space of mere seconds.

White Mask, audibly fuming at the defiance levelled against him, drew his sword in a clean motion and levelled his retort at Julie. Tam drew her own longsword, and managed to put herself between the two with a wheel from Fritz. Revas reared back to get out of the way, almost putting Julie on the ground. The Qunari and the chevaliers squared off, ready to strike. Tam had the advantage of Earth armour and physicality, White Mask had the experience and training. The latter usually had the upper hand.

My reaction was of cool hatred, like icewater had been poured onto me. My face became taught, I could hear my heart beating and the adrenalin put me in a haze. I had felt this before, and it's at moments like those that you can go either way. Consumed by this feeling, it was joined by intense glee as I raised the firelance to my shoulder and prepared to send a burst into the bastard. I knew it would be the signal for my own soldiers to attack as well, and we'd put the whole damned lot of them to the sword.

No taxation without representation, I thought.

If it wasn't for one Baron Pierre des Arbes, the war would have kicked off early. He lightly slapped the barrel of my firelance downwards, before nudging his own steed forwards to intercede in the brewing sword-duel about to break out between Tam and White Mask. My open hatred did not subside, but the mad urge to slaughter them did. That's the thing about bloodlust, it can disappear in an instant with the smallest of gestures.

"Ser, you must excuse the Marquise... she is of common blood, and speaks her mind as such," he said.

"Then you should beat her until she learns to hold her tongue!" the chevalier said in rebuke, as he lowered his weapon. Julie's hand twitched to her weapons, a sneer on her face. She didn't get further than that. The Baron had just sighed and drew his own sword, to my great surprise. Julie's hand moved away from her weapons again, and Tam even moved aside to get out of the way.

"Ser, I might remind you that I am the lord of this land, and you are merely a chevalier of no higher rank. No matter how highly esteemed you think you are," the Baron said politely, while holding his sword out, "How I treat my vassals is my business, provided they pay their taxes." White Mask growled an insult under his breath, but sheathed his sword. His fellows on horseback hadn't done anything this whole time, but now reacted with looks among themselves. My desire to kill them returned, in diminished form, as I realised that restraint was an unusual thing for them to witness.

"Shall she pay her way in defence of the Empire?" White Mask asked, with a glance of contempt thrown Julie's way.

"The Marquis will pay _his_ taxes," the Baron said, "The Marquise has yet to be joined to him under the eyes of the Maker. Her title remains one of courtesy alone, for the moment." A fact he was quite happy about, no doubt. The bastards both turned to look at me. What they expected of me, I understood at once, and although it made the bile rise in my throat, I complied.

"How much?" I said calmly. A wave of frustration crossed Julie's face briefly, before she restrained herself. Tam by contrast remained cool on the outside, but knowing her, she was probably planning how best to fillet the specimens in front of her. As I watched them, another mounted knight rode up to me and handed me a piece of parchment. I couldn't read any of the script reliably, but I had numbers down to a fine point thanks to Leha. The sum being demanded was enormous. It wasn't a death sentence, but to pay it would mean serious sacrifices. Most would have levied it off of the backs of their vassals, but I wouldn't and couldn't do that.

Luckily, I had another option. Well, two other options, but simply killing them then and there wasn't exactly long-term thinking.

"You will pay now," said White Mask. Which I had every intention of doing in the first place. Paying later would have meant another visit by this giant prick.

"Sergeant-Major!" I called.

"Yes sir!" replied Mike, marching over. I threw her a large key to the basement cages.

"Set the troops at ease, then go down with six others, and retrieve the chests marked one, two and three," I said, "Bring them to the gate for the chevaliers to take." I saw the consternation and anger on the faces of my two captains as the sergeant saluted me in the Earth way. She ordered the columns to go to ease, pointed at a squad leader and waved him over, before leading them into the château to get what was owed. Once he saw this, White Mask sheathed his sword and waved for his bodyguard to return to the gate. He knew he was getting what he wanted, and now ignored our existence, like we were ants. McNulty and Soprano marched off to talk to their direct subordinates.

Julie, Tam and I all made straight for the Baron, who took off his mask and pinched the bridge of his nose. I managed to get the first word off.

"What in the fuck was that?" I asked with a smile on my face, and a hand on my gun. Pierre's head snapped up and his eyes met mine.

"That was the Grand-Duke sending a message," the noble said, "He has the men and authority to come burn us out of our castles if we don't support him or pay to have the rightful Empress removed." Subtle wasn't Gaspard's style, as everyone knows by now.

"How does he have the authority?" asked Julie, "We don't get taxed in autumn or winter, or people go hungry. It's a rule that's been around since the defeat of the elves!"

"The chevaliers are here to collect 'sword money' for the army," the Baron replied, "It's an even older tradition... one that hasn't been invoked since the Exalted Marches against the Qunari. The Grand Master of the Order of Chevaliers can impose it on any landed noble and at any rate he wishes... and that person just so happens to be Gaspard the Pretender." Apparently, Pierre was just as much a lawyer as Cecile was... not that it meant anything in Orlais.

"Is the Empress just going to take this?" I asked, "Isn't this defying her authority?"

"No," said Pierre flatly, "In fact, if she were to stop him, there would be talk that she was going too easy on the elves. There are already too many whispers of that kind, so as long as Gaspard keeps his tax-collections to the Dales, he will have no trouble with her interference... even if it funds a rebellion later..." I winced at that, wondering if perhaps I was backing the wrong horse. I already knew Gaspard had much of the real military types behind him thanks to Duval, learning that he also had wealth stolen from the Empress' supporters only increased my evaluation that he'd probably go on to win the throne. I couldn't possibly calculate for Briala's interference at this point, of course.

"How much did we lose?" asked Julie. I sighed and handed her the paper. One look had her rolling it into a little ball and throwing it away.

"We won't be able to pay anyone for months," Julie said, head in hands, "And we don't have enough to feed everyone for that long anyway. Maybe we should just kill them."

"You can't, there would be too many witnesses," Pierre said, grinding his teeth, "Otherwise I would have done it myself. You kill them here and now, and it will be the talk of Val Royeaux in a matter of a week. Then we all die." Which I could believe.

"Then our people just starve, is that it?" asked Julie.

"I told you not to pay them, but you didn't listen," the Baron replied, "You may not like it, but that's the truth."

"Shut up!" said Julie and I simultaneously.

"That man in white," Tam said, eyes narrowed, "I am going to kill him." I smiled like an idiot at her, thoroughly cheered by the idea. Which provoked an idea of my own on how to achieve it, get our money back and generally save the day.

"About that..." I said, turning to the Baron, "Do you know which settlements that cock will go to next?"

"Not exactly, but I can guess... Those loyal to Celene in the Dales remain close, for our own security. With Avvars in the hills and elves outnumbering us, we have much to lose if we aren't," he replied, "Why?"

"Ever hear of Robin Hood?" I asked in return, leaning in slightly.

* * *

Robin Hood is a famous figure in the history of a country named England, the birthplace of many of my ancestors. When threatened by a government that was determined to squeeze taxes out of every soul they could, particularly in the north of that country, Robin Hood organised a resistance that stole back the taxes from the collectors. King John, a tyrant who ruled in place of his brother in many adaptations of the story, tried everything to crush the resolve of the people of Nottingham, the town in which the resistance was based. How the history actually played out, I do not know and I do not think I ever knew it. The story versions are more interesting and hopeful to begin with. At the last moment, when all hope looked lost for Robin and his men, the rightful King Richard returns to save them and punish his brother for his misdeeds. This chapter is named for the forest in which they lived; Sherwood.

Unfortunately, we would have no Richard to save us from the evil King John. So we had to make do.

It was this story that had me shivering in the rain on my thirtieth birthday, October 31st, covered in a soaking wet hooded cloak on top of my armour, while sitting at the side of a forest road to the south of Hearth. Pierre des Arbes, once he had heard the story of the men of Sherwood, had gleefully given us the information which I requested. Though he refused to join us. From that, we were able to guess the route that White Mask would take back down to Halamshiral. Word from some of Leha's merchant contacts confirmed the presence of a large collection party, exactly where we had thought he would be. I had really wished that Armen and Ciara would return in time to help, but there was no sign of them.

Still, at least I wasn't alone in my misery.

Aside from Julie and Tam, whose presence I could not prevent, I brought with me the best seventy-five of my soldiers from three platoons, one from McNulty's company and two from Soprano's own. All were wearing the same cloaked hoods that you'd see most elves wearing around town, the same as I was wearing. No shortage of those to hand, to say the least. It had rained since we marched out of L'Ambassade, so our movements went largely unnoticed. No flash of chainmail, as it was firmly underneath coats, and not many on the road to see it anyway.

Julie and I were with the vanguard platoon under McNulty, twenty five of the best bruisers I had. The 'Grenadiers' as they would become in later days. They had kicked the snot out of their rivals in Soprano's company two weeks earlier in a formation sparring match with double-weighted dummy weapons. Another reason I had two captains and two companies. Nothing like rivalry to encourage excellence.

Of course, the drunken loudmouth's guys couldn't shoot for their lives, not compared to Soprano the Ice Queen's sharpshooters. Tam was with the longbow-armed skirmishers arranged on one side of the road, while Soprano was on the opposite side with her crossbow soldiers, ready to pounce when the trap was sprung.

It was nearly five hours before it would be.

We sat almost entirely in silence for that time, the only interruptions for the majority of the time being radio checks. I had given McNulty, Soprano and Mike the communication machines for this particular job. None of them seemed surprised by the technology at all, and the latter was very happy to be able to report that nothing was coming from the forward picket. I had been hoping for a more amazed response, but apparently I was such an anomaly to everyone by that point that they hand-waved it off. I determined to up my game on that front as the fifth hour was drawing to a close, when McNulty wandered up to me.

"Since we're just sitting here, scratching ourselves to relieve the boredom, I have a question sir," he said, taking a seat on a downed tree trunk, "If you wouldn't mind."

Julie smirked at his familiarity, and shook her head. I was too bored to care.

"You're going to ask anyway," I shrugged, "Shoot."

"The horse," he said, thumbing over his shoulder to wear we had tied up all of them, "What's the name mean?" I flinched a little in surprise at the question. No one had bothered to ask, probably as a result of the anomaly-effect I mentioned earlier. I was just a weird person to all of them.

"It means war in an ancient language," I replied, "Bellona was the goddess of war."

"You called your horse _War_?" Julie said with incredulity. A sentiment that McNulty shared.

"Why in the name of the Maker would you call it that?" he said, standing up.

Pleased that I would get to explain, I smiled. I had put a great deal of thought into the matter, after all. It was somewhat galling to have no one ask about it, considering how clever I thought it was. I was an arrogant guy. Suppose I still am.

"Behold, the red horse. And power was given to him who sat thereon, to take peace from the Earth. Its rider was given a mighty sword, and there was war and slaughter everywhere," I quoted, "Revelations 6:4." I was paraphrasing the best bits from the best versions of the text, admittedly. Both of my companions stared at me like I had three heads. So did some of the nearby soldiers.

"By Andraste, you are just scary sometimes," said McNulty with a frown, "I've never heard of the Canticle of Revelations before either..."

"Book," I corrected, "And unless you're from... the Far-West, you wouldn't have."

"I thought you were a peacekeeper," Julie said flatly, "That's bloody talk for a peacekeeper."

"My beret used to be red," I replied, "I am a soldier too, and was a soldier before I was a peacekeeper." And I thought I was Death himself, back in the day. Cocky son of a bitch that I was. A little too much Pulp Fiction on the mind, I think. Even wrote book, chapter and verse on the side of my helmet. Sometimes you need to throw a little mindfuck at people, allies and enemies alike. Easier to keep the peace if everyone pisses their pants at your approach.

"They're here!" whispered Mike over the comms. I clicked my fingers and motioned for everyone to shut the hell up. Sure enough, the regular thudding of hooves could be heard in the distance, even over the rain.

"Alright Captain Soprano, it's up to you and yours," I said into my mouthpiece, "We're ready to cut them off."

"Understood," came the curt reply.

I walked into the middle of the road alone from the cover of the trees and bushes, while everyone else hid. It was the plan.

The thumping on the ground grew louder, until around the corner in the distance came the chevaliers on horseback, in front as expected. I could see behind them that the men-at-arms were on the quick march, probably to get to the nearest town a couple of miles down the way. The wagons were in the middle of the groups, and looked much more full now than they did previously. They had a good haul and were in good spirits, I realised. I began slowly whistling _The Farmer In The Dell_ as they came towards me, which put me squarely in their sights. Like I said, mindfuck.

White Mask called a halt with a single gesture of his arm, and he was obeyed instantly by the troops on foot. The cavalry moved more slowly forwards with him, hands on their swords, and the same chevalier who had handed me the tax bill now approached. I looked up at him from under my hood, and our eyes met.

"Who are you?!" he asked forcefully, "Get off the road, _paysan_!"

"What moves on four legs in the morning, two in the afternoon, and three in the evening?" I asked loudly.

The chevalier roared insults at me, in addition to telling me again to get out of the way.

I held up a finger, then rather dramatically took down my hood and opened my cloak slightly, revealing my face and clothing. And the large set of weapons hanging off me. Mace, handcannon, automatic firelance. fragmentation grenades, kiteshield. I could have sworn that the idiot's eyes nearly popped out from the slits in his mask in shock, as he realised exactly who I was.

White Mask shouted something, I don't know what exactly because I was too busy readying to shoot at the horseman who had demanded my name. Regardless, it triggered the trap beautifully. From the woods on both sides of the road, arrows and bolts hissed out of the foliage. Straight into the bodies of the cavalry, turning them into sieves. Meanwhile, Julie and McNulty rushed onto the road just behind me, the platoon of soldiers at the ready with them, shields raised and swords ready. And the finishing touch, an Earth innovation, one of Julie's secret projects; a thick weave of barbed wire was run across the road by two men with thick gloves.

The first part of the plan went absolutely perfectly. The bowmen had orders to shoot at the horsemen and not the horses, and followed them. No matter how good your armour is, being struck by bolts and arrows at short range from multiple angles is going to put you off your mount. All of them, White Mask included, fell. Most were only wounded, and not necessarily badly, but the falls exacerbated matters as the horses bolted, kicking a few of them to add to the bodycount. My handcannon killed my target more or less instantly, his chainmail and padding no match for the bullets. My head was entirely filled with battle, as we watched the fallen chevaliers take another volley from the treelines to keep them down. It was very satisfying.

The next part of the plan went entirely wrong.

The men-at-arms advanced up the road as a single massive hedgehog, spears pointing out of a moving shieldwall. Their intention was obvious; get to the nobles and protect them, then engage us. As I thought they would. Standing around and protecting the carts wouldn't have made sense. Gold could be recovered afterwards, the lives of their masters couldn't, and the lives were more valuable. Tam reported that they were switching targets, and aimed exclusively for the front of the mass. The reasoning was simple. Trip up a few of them, and slow their advance.

It didn't work.

The reason for which utterly baffled me at first. The arrows and bolts were bouncing off the shields, even the hits striking directly. Most of the time. There were a few going down, but nowhere near enough. Bafflement turned to astonishment as I realised that some of the shots were being deflected off of _clothing_ , never mind the chainmail that had been no real protection earlier. I waved Julie and McNulty over, and pointed at the group.

"You seeing that?" I asked, "What the hell is going on?"

"Magic," said McNulty, "Look, you can see blue sparks when the arrows land." He was no expert on the subject, but such a sight would be recognisable to any resident of this world as a magical phenomenon.

I examined the shieldwall, and saw what the captain was talking about immediately. They were faint and easy to miss if you weren't watching out for them specifically. A horrible feeling entered my gut, as I realised that everyone was now in huge danger. Julie, Tam, the soldiers, they were vulnerable to whatever mage was about. And I would be vulnerable to the enemy troops once my own were dead or wounded.

"Oh no you don't!" I shouted as I rushed over to the reason why I had selected this particular spot for the ambush, aside from the cover. I rested my heavy firelance on its bipod, on top of a chest-height rock by the side of the road, and sighted the close-ranked troops. They were maybe fifty yards away, enveloping their injured and dead liege-lords in a protective wall. There was no missing them.

I opened fire, the firelances pouring a stream of hot metal at the doomed men-at-arms. Tracers laid through the mass, as the magic deflected maybe one of the bullets per man before failing entirely. I had nearly two hundred shots to fire, and none of them were going anywhere except directly at a poor soul with no idea that his or her entire way of fighting had just become obsolete. Julie joined in with her own firelance, and then her handcannon when that ran dry. It was a bloodbath. Half of the enemy number died in the space of a minute, trying to shelter from the flying metal behind their shields. So close was their formation that many remained standing even after death.

It was ugly carnage, and I disliked looking at it even as I created it.

Half was still half less than I had expected though, the magic had managed to save that much. Several bodies slumped out of the shield wall, either gravity pulling them to the ground or the corpses being shoved out of the way by the living. Still, the wall stood. They were tough, or at the very least, had opted for the fight option of fight or flight. I guess running away seemed redundant against my firepower.

Peeking just over the top of the shields, I spotted a staff waving and recognised the motion immediately. Armen had shown it to me on the first day we met.

"DOWN!" I shouted, diving behind the rock as the enemy shieldwall opened up to allow the passage of the attack to come.

The bolt of lightning blasted like a cannon shot out of the enemy line and directly towards ours. Being electricity, you couldn't follow it, you just saw the flash and the afterimage of where it had been for a split second. The effects were grizzly, however. Instead of striking as a single blow, the bolt burst in the midst of the platoon and fizzled between the air and the ground via the men and women. They shook with convulsions, their muscles' spasms dropping them to the ground with dull metallic booms. I wasn't sure if they were dead or not, but I feared the worst when blood started out of their ears and mouths.

My mind raced for the solution to this, as another lightning bolt burst nearby, thankfully only shocking a few people as they dragged those who had already been hit badly away behind trees again. I knew I was outgunned. At least, while the meatshield was in the way. And therein was the answer.

"Charge," I said quietly into my radio, "All of you, charge!"

A great yell went up. A rebel yell. Soprano's people charged out of the trees, swords and spears out, screaming and shouting as they came down the embankment they had been hiding on. White Mask's men, knowing they'd be slaughtered if they were boxed in, countercharged on command. The bubble made of shields and men dispersed and what happened afterwards was utter chaos. The two sides ended up fighting their own personal fights. We would have had the advantage, the numbers were with us, but everywhere was under the influence of magic.

I scanned the scene for who I was looking for, and found him.

The mage was in the middle, two bodyguards with him, sending smaller bolts of ball lighting around with a spin of his staff. There could be no doubts that he was the mage to begin with. The robes were distinctive, and almost identical to those that Armen had. This struck me as incredibly stupid, marking out the most powerful weapon in your arsenal for any idiot to see. The Qunari and the Tevinters do the same thing. They might as well just wear a neon billboard shaped like a bullseye. That's certainly what I took it to be.

"Julie, you follow right behind me, cover me," I said, unclipping my firelance and putting it down, "Right behind, you hear me?"

Julie looked at me with the wide eyes of a new soldier, and nodded. She got the idea. I pat her on the shoulder, and drew my mace and kiteshield. I ordered the barbed wire withdrawn, and we waded into the fight, directly for the target.

Of course, other fights managed to get in the way of us. A quick swipe from behind with my mace or a burst from Julie's firelance ended the lives of any of the pretender's thugs. Which was great, because my soldiers who had been fighting them then rallied behind me and we drove a wedge right through to the mage.

The man proceeded to send more and more spells at me in a panic. The electricity was a slight tingle as I walked almost casually towards its source. The bodyguards' nerves remained solid though, and they stood fast in front of the man to challenge me. Foolish I thought, as I had about a dozen with me.

"Step aside," I said, pouring as much malice into the words as I could.

They responded by coming at me. A huge two-handed axe swung down at me, which I caught with my kite shield. The metal and wood split from the force of the impact, and my retaliatory swing was short. Julie shot the other man with her handcannon, who fell to his knees and then on his face. The mage sent lightning bolt at me, which dissipated instantly but blinded me.

The axe fell towards my shoulder, but when it struck, had too little force to do anything other than bruise me. I had thought to be going to the hot place, as I saw the blow fall too late to do anything about it. Another quick look, and I saw the reason for the sudden loss of power to the strike. A black feathered arrow stuck out from underneath the thug's armpit. He fell against me, and I bounced him away with my fist, full of rage for a moment.

I looked up into the forest and blew Tam a kiss. She smirked as she nocked another arrow and let it loose on another poor bastard. I turned my attention to the mage. The din of battle was quietening down, and I could tell we were winning by his face.

He had used the time I provided to start building up a huge charge with his staff. I held my hand up for the others to wait behind me, before stepping forward a little more, arm and mace outstretched to either side of me.

"Go on, take your best shot!" I said, perhaps unwisely. Relying on my … ability solely could have backfired, for all I knew, but I needed to find out. What better way than a test with someone very definitely trying to kill me.

With an animalistic shout, he let loose with the electrical attack. It was practically a laser beam, solid light. He caught me dead centre with it for several seconds. What's more is that it was silent, at least at first. I could hear the gasps of horror from behind me, the ring of swords colliding with shields and flesh, and even the rain patting the ground. When it ended, a massive cracking thunderclap filled the air. I blinked away the afterimages, unable to see clearly for a moment.

"Well, that tickled," I said to him, still somewhat dazed.

"W-what are you!" he shouted, lowering his staff, "Demon!"

"Not a demon, sorry," I said, not actually sure, "If I had to guess, I would say fallen angel. Or dead."

In an act of terrible and terrified desperation, the mage tossed aside his staff and drew a dagger from the back of his hood. Without a word, he ran at me, blade raised. I sighed, knowing what would happen next.

Julie shot him in the head, and he fell face first into the mud, blood and corpses at our feet.

* * *

The aftermath of the battle was messy.

First thing I did was have most of our survivors fall in for inspection, to keep up discipline but also make sure they were doing okay. They weren't. Most of them looked sick, blood-splattered and tired. Even as they lined up, I could tell. There were also fearful looks at me that I should have anticipated. After all, I had just revealed one of my great secrets. In order to save their lives, of course, and many understood that, but it doesn't change the fact that I just waltzed through Fade-lightning like it was less bothersome than the rain. Which it was.

When they were lined up down the road a little, away from the bodies, I decided I needed to say something.

"Nasty business," I said, "Had to be done. Over the next few days, some of you are going to feel like crap. Others will want more of the same. I'd ask you to just remember that we did this because we would all be going hungry otherwise. We couldn't grow enough crops to feed everyone before now, and we didn't have the money to buy food either. I hope you'll all forgive me for bringing you here."

"Yes, sir," came the loud reply, lacking in real enthusiasm but sincere nonetheless.

Julie stepped forward beside me.

"Also remember that none of you are slaves," she said, "They steal from us every year, and worse. Most of you know me, you've seen the same things I have. The chevaliers that ride through, taking what and who they want. The wars and blood feuds we don't want. Battles we have to fight in or die by the hands of our fellow Orlesians. Yet when darkspawn or Avvar raiders come down from the mountains, we are left to die until a noble's property is threatened. When famine hits, we go hungry, they eat cake. When a plague comes, we go sick, they get healed by pet mages. And I ask you all, do we deserve this?"

Julie pointed to the dead royalists.

"You have sent a message today. Andraste freed us from the magisters. She did not die so that we could be enslaved again. That is _our_ money in those wagons, not Celene's, not Gaspard's. What we gave their soldiers is what _they_ deserve! Things can change, and they _will_ change."

That seemed to restore the morale of the entire group. than what I had said. I was taken aback, but quietly dismissed the troops to start the process of looting the dead. Which they did as ordered, taking weapons mostly. We didn't have time to strip off armour.

"Well sir, we won," said McNulty, "Hope it was worth it." So did I.

"Of course it was," replied Soprano, "Now, if you'll excuse us Marquis, we must see to the new horses." Two of which had been earmarked for their use. They both saluted me, and I returned the gesture, before the pair walked off down the road.

Julie looked on for a moment with me, before turning with a intake of breath.

"So, now the war begins, I guess?" she said, "And your secret is out."

"I wouldn't go that far," I frowned, "It's not like anyone will know who did this, and I don't think they'll be yapping about me walking through a personal thunderstorm too quickly either."

"It was bloody," said Julie, turning back to the carnage.

"Yeah, I was hoping we'd get out of this without a scratch," I said, "Didn't know they had a mage." I felt a little guilty about the plan going to the wall, but knew that it went wrong because I didn't have all the facts. The casualties were inevitable. Seven dead, twenty wounded. The latter was mostly walking wounded, although some would have to ride in the carts with those who weren't so lucky. We had a day's march home.

"On the bright side, those wagons look full," said Julie, nodding towards them, "And we managed to catch another twenty horses." Which was true, but didn't make me feel much better. Later it turned out that the chevaliers hadn't kept records of who paid what, which would complicate things.

"What about this one?" said Tam from behind. I jumped a little. She had been down the road, last I saw her.

A quick reorientation and the sight of an injured chevalier on his knees looking up defiantly met me. Blue eyes, brown hair, dueling scar and a big nose. Not exactly pretty, but not particularly ugly either. He was held by Tam at his shoulders, which kept him firmly down. Julie and I looked at each other in confusion.

"Who is this?" asked Julie, "One of the horsemen?"

Tam smirked, and held up a mask. A white mask. I chuckled heartily, not believing my luck.

"Well well," I said, "Aren't you the lucky bunny?"

White Mask remained silent, like he was being talked to by a cockroach or something. Angered by his attitude, I gave him a wide open-handed slap to regain his attention. The side of his face turned a bright red, even as rainwater fell down it. Autumn weather, another uncooperative force.

"That's for insulting my fiancé," I said.

"You're all dead," he replied, "When Gaspard finds out..."

"He won't," I said with certainty, "No one will." He did, in fact.

Tam's dagger sailed from its scabbard and across his throat, unleashing a waterfall of blood from the man's neck. Leaving him alive just wasn't an option. We couldn't ransom him, we couldn't imprison him, and we couldn't let him go.

"And that was for the people you got killed," I added, just as the man expired. Tam let the body go and began cleaning her dagger in the way she did after most kills. Julie looked slightly displeased, and I inquired.

"Were you supposed to do that?" she asked in return, "I mean, he was our prisoner."

"He would have seen you two beaten and raped, me murdered," I replied, "It's war now. You said it yourself."

Julie grimaced, still displeased. Still idealistic. She hadn't yet had the experience that would mould her into the more pragmatic type. I found her admirable for caring about the life of someone who hated her nonetheless. I gave her a quick kiss, and then did the same to Tam. The Qunari blushed, God help me.

"Now let's go home," I said. The others nodded, smiling.

If I had known what was waiting for me there, I might have went on a little vacation detour for a few weeks. But I didn't, so we completed piling our dead and wounded in with the money and weapons on the wagons, and rode home, the rain finally stopping as we started off.

* * *

 _AUTHOR'S NOTE: As you can probably tell, I don't like training montage chapters... so I rode over it. I think it works to get to the interesting stuff._

 _This may or may not be the last chapter in Outlander until late November-early December. As I wrote before, November will be a Mass Effect month. Work will still continue on this, but it will be slow. It was supposed to be a story to unblock myself for Battlefield 2183, and here we are, something like 150,000 words later. So, those stories will get the love for now._

 _ **Zezia:**_ _I've already answered you by PM, but I think I'll copy what I said there to here. Google "Boxes of 5.56mm ammunition" and you'll see that it doesn't take up that much space. The boxes aren't that large, containing 800-900 rounds linked or otherwise, so you could fit plenty into a helicopter, or as in Sam's case, onto a four-wheeled flatbed wagon._

 _Firelance is merely a word for a firearm, a gun. Sam uses the word specifically to mean an assault rifle, sniper rifle or light machinegun. Most of the time, just the first of those. The "big" or heavy firelance refers to the other two. As for what weapons specifically, I'll refrain from listing them off here as I did in the PM._

 _Appreciate the questions though._

 ** _5 Coloured Walker:_** _So the first domino falls..._

 ** _Judy:_** _Always glad to hear feedback from you._

 ** _Comavampure:_** _That was the impression I was trying to give, that the Warden and Sten were close. Considering they're both quite aggressive characters in this canon, it made sense to me._

 _As for the rest, barricades in Val Royeaux isn't quite where this is going... Though you can see that it's where Julie would like it to by now._

 _Cheers for the endorsement in your own story, by the way._


	19. Chapter 19: Nightingale

**Chapter Nineteen: Nightingale**

The ride back to Hearth was tense.

At first, I thought it was the dead. The great majority of my people were very far from veteran soldiers before the ambush, despite their initiation in the military science of my world. At best, I had a dozen people who had been in a real fight before they had been assigned to me by the Baron, and another couple with extensive hunting experience against dangerous animals. In short, the deaths of the others should have begun to affect them, as their blood cooled off with the march. That familiar feeling of collective sorrow was not what I saw on their faces as we made our way back home.

I know now the reason why. Death was everywhere in Thedas. Hunger, disease, crime, raiding and warfare were all rampant. If you hadn't seen someone die by the time you were eighteen, it was a strange thing. This was certainly not the experience of people in my world, at least not in most of my country. Places were that sort of thing was commonplace are considered aberrations.

It was a strange mix of fear, admiration and curiosity that followed me wherever I went on the column. I saw it when we loaded up the bodies of the chevalier and the mage, the latter in particular I wanted identified by Armen when he returned from whatever the hell he was doing. People made way for me much more readily as I carried the man, but contrary to my expectations, this was not because of the corpse.

I ignored the looks after a while. I was neither in the mood to confront anyone about it, nor did I think it wise in the first place. I was also too busy lost in my own thoughts. Trouble was coming because of what we had done, and I didn't think it would come from the Grand-Duke. I had hoped to find some documents, some record of who paid how much, but I knew that was a long shot. We hadn't given White Mask anything, and no one else had either. Their mission was simply to round up as much as they could, and seize property if people couldn't or wouldn't pay. This left me with a whole lot of money belonging to multiple others by right, but I had no idea how much everyone was actually owed. The potential for abuse was massive, not to mention the fact that if I gave back a single red cent, it would be open admission to what I can only imagine was a torture-then-death sentence crime.

To make matters more complicated, the person I would have turned to for advice on these political matters was God only knows where. I still don't know today what he was doing, but regardless, Armen was not with us. Ciara and Tam wouldn't know much, being Dalish and Qunari, which left one person.

When we made camp in a fallow field, as we were taking our time to return home, I waited until everyone was deep in their cups before quietly approaching Julie about it. She was sitting on a chest of gold, while rifling through another when I did so, a quiet smile on her face.

"Feeling rich?" I asked as I approached.

"Like never before," Julie replied, clenching a fist of gold coins in the air, "Do you know what we can do with this?" I chuckled, imagining living the rest of my days as a fat bastard noble. It wasn't entirely unappealing.

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about," I said, "There's no record of who any of this belongs to, and they'll want their money back once they hear we have it. It's going to be a problem." I had already imagined the barons and chevaliers turning up on my doorstep to claim more money than they had been forced to pay.

"That's not a problem," Julie said, letting the gold fall through her fingers as she watched it, "It's an opportunity." My eyebrows raised themselves at her suggestion. Take the money for ourselves. Maker knows we needed it. Of course, my mind immediately hit what I thought the big barrier to doing that would be.

"Doesn't that mean the peasants everywhere else will starve?" I asked, sitting down on another chest beside her, "The taxes were taken from them, weren't they?"

Julie pushed some of her hair out of her eyes, as they levelled themselves at me, finally moving from the raw wealth at her feet. There was a fire there, one I hadn't seen before. I was taken aback.

"The money they took from the other nobles was already stolen from the peasants," Julie said firmly, "We pay our people, the nobles take part of the harvest from theirs. The serfs will have enough to feed themselves, barely. We can use the money to feed them as well. And so much more." My curiosity peaked at that. Humanitarian aid fell right up my alley, and the more part was intriguing to me. Julie could tell.

"Gaspard will think Celene's nobles took back the money," she explained, "While Celene's will think Gaspard still has their money, as long as we tell the Baron that the convoy got away."

I pinched the bridge of my nose, understanding where she was going with it at that point. She wanted to drive a wedge between the nobles, and possibly between the loyal ones and Celene to boot. War would undoubtedly follow, at least in the Dales. At which point, we would intervene and win, because she had unshakeable faith in my own capabilities and the justice of her cause. The money would be necessary for it.

"Julie, there's a saying in my world..." I said slowly, "Revolutions eat their own children."

The woman frowned, displeased that I hadn't shown my immediate approval. She evidently had been counting on my support for the idea. She picked up a coin between two fingers.

"We took their money, Sam. We have a rebel mage with us. We're pretending to be nobles. We killed chevaliers," Julie said, holding up the gold, "Even before all this, we knew they were coming." She turned in her seat, rummaged through her bag and produced a book.

"There is no avoiding war; it can only be postponed to the advantage of others _,_ " Julie continued with utter conviction, "Those are words from your own world. They are wise words." I sighed loudly, as she held up Machiavelli's _The Prince_ like it was a Bible or a copy of the Chant of Light. Surprising for an idealist like her to quote the ultimate pragmatist, but she had consumed every page of political science and history I had brought from Earth by this point. She had come to her own conclusions. The mixture would prove potent indeed.

"I guess I was fooling myself," I said, effectively conceding the point, "I shouldn't complain, I was at war before I arrived."

"And this will be a war to protect us from tax collectors," smiled Julie, happy to have gotten her way, "I'm sure your 'Founding Fathers' would have been proud." I snorted my amused doubt at that. As far as I understood it, most of them weren't all that happy with the idea of war to begin with.

"And I suppose if we win, people will write about you as a 'Founding Mother'," I replied. Appropriate for a world where God's saviour was female too, I suppose. Not exactly how it played out, of course.

"I can live with that," Julie admitted. She would in fact revel in it.

We sat in silence for a moment, as the blacksmith played with the coins a little more, possibly doing a mental count of the chest as only someone with her unique memory could accomplish. Before long, she wandered off, leaving me to my thoughts.

Not liking where they were going, I saw that Tam was standing a little way off with a sombre look. I waved her over to sit with us. There was another question I needed the answer to. She came over slowly, closed the open chest of gold and sat down on it as Julie had been.

"Do you think the mood is a little strange?" I asked, once I had her attention, "Are they still afraid of me?" I nudged my head in the direction of the campfires beyond, where the men and women were warming themselves. There was a biting cold in the wind that cropped up every now and then, so they were huddled closely.

Tam looked at me strangely.

"They are," said Tam, "At least three groups asked me if I knew anything as I passed." Given the reactions of my new 'family' to the same phenomenon, I had hoped the troops would get over it.

"What did you say to them?" I asked.

"That no magic could harm you, and that you could harm anything magical," Tam replied, "And that I didn't know how you gained those powers."

I myself didn't understand it, though I would hear a theory less than a day later.

"At least you didn't tell them I was from another world," I laughed, "That would have sent them into a panic." To say the least.

"They wouldn't have believed me anyway," said Tam, "Let's just get home, get to bed, and we can worry about how we're going to explain things later." I just nodded at that, more exhausted that I should have been. I was looking forward to bed, the opportunity to do absolutely nothing and deal with exactly zero problems for a little while. Once the funeral pyres had been lit and the chants sung, at any rate. It had been a hell of a way to spend a birthday.

Unfortunately, Armen was waiting back at L'Ambassade with another set of problems.

* * *

The wind kept up the next day, but was thankfully lacking in rain or sleet. Considering I had spent the months before in the dry oppressive heat of the Syrian desert followed by the humid chokehold of the Dales, the change in weather was still most unwelcome. It was the first day I really felt it in my bones, biting me. I drew the furs around me closely as I rode on Bellona at the head of the column, not really wanting to see the eyes on me as we went.

We finally made our way up the stony avenue to home at about five in the evening by my watch, as it was getting dark. The orange and yellow leaves were joined by a blazing red sky. I took a moment to appreciate the sight, as our tired soldiers filed through the gate and towards the armoury to deposit their weapons before being dismissed. Tam and Julie both leaned in their saddles beside me, looking up at the sky too.

"Beautiful," Tam said.

"I wonder if it's an omen," Julie added.

I groaned, knowing that it was simply because she had articulated the point.

"Now you've done it," I said, "Don't say things like that, you've tempted fate."

As if to make my point for me, Ciara appeared from around the corner of château, dressed in her hunting uniform augmented by a thick woollen cloak. She spotted us immediately, and gave a wide wave. Happy to see her, I rode over.

"So you're back!" the she-elf said as we approached, "Where were you? No one here would tell us."

"So are you," Julie replied, "No one here knew where we were going exactly. Is Armen here too?"

"Along with some scary shem who held a dagger at my throat before introducing herself," said Ciara, rubbing her neck, "They're waiting in his place."

Considering how low a threat a dagger was to me, I didn't really think of the guest in our midst as a threat at all. After all, I was wearing a bulletproof, stab-proof vest. Along with several far more lethal weapons than a dagger. I glanced at Julie and Tam for a reaction. The former just shrugged, and with nothing really to say, we all dismounted.

"Oh, I forgot," said Ciara, "Just Hunt. The woman only wants to talk to you."

"Well, that's tough shit for her," I objected, "Who the hell does she think she is?"

"Trust me, you don't want to cross her," said Ciara, looking sheepish that she had delivered the demand, "Armen was afraid when she approached us, she's dangerous and from the way she holds herself, she's a noble of some kind too. They talked for hours alone when we were up north, and he came out of the room looking like he'd seen demons."

I grumbled, and contemplating simply breezing in with the others in tow regardless of this mystery woman's desires, but a hand fell on my shoulder softly. I turned my head, and saw that it was Julie's.

"Go, see who it is," she said, "It's not like she can hurt _you_." Which of course, was a gross underestimation of the person waiting for us, but Julie couldn't know that. Tam threw her head sideways a little in obvious doubt, but remained silent. She always did have a sixth sense about this sort of thing. Regardless, I agreed to the condition, leaving Julie to organise the sad business of the funeral. Tam simply disappeared as soon as I did agree, which did little to comfort me. I quickly ordered the body of the mage to be brought to where we were going, and proceeded.

Ciara led me around the château to the south side, where Armen had his laboratories. They looked identical to every other building we had put up in the weeks since arriving. Standardisation made a lot of things easier. The only reason you would have to believe that there were great and terrible secrets hiding within was the door, a solid piece of steel with an intricate lock. Of course, the walls were reinforced with metal on the inside too, so it was no small matter to force your way into the place. Armen appreciated the need for secrecy around knowledge from Earth as much as I did.

Leha on the other hand did not, having no idea where it came from, and was presently leaning beside the entrance with a scowl on her face.

"Did you get my money back?" she asked in a low, threatening tone. She pushed herself off the wall and stood at her full un-menacing height, arms crossed. I felt a little cheered by the sight of her, as money-grabbing as she was.

"Your money, our money," I replied, "And much more besides. Go talk to Julie, she'll give you the details."

Leha's face relaxed itself, her surprise at our complete success evident. Oh ye of little faith.

"Armen locked himself in there with some woman a few hours back," she said, thumbing over her shoulder, "He looked annoyed, wouldn't let me say a word to her. Got angry when I mentioned you guys."

Not sure what to say to that, I shrugged. "I guess I'm going to find out why," I said, before banging on the door hard. I unbuttoned the holster of my handcannon at my hip for good measure too, as I heard footsteps approach. The door moved back onto its rollers and slide aside. What I saw was shocking to say the least.

Armen was the first thing I noticed. His robes were dirty from riding, mud-splattered from the knee down. Considering he left in a wagon, this was strange in itself. The man looked exhausted and deeply irritated, his eyes narrow and watery with fatigue and his customary smile nowhere to be found. His staff was missing as well. Alarm bells rang in my head, as my eyes moved to look behind him.

The laboratory itself looked like it always did. He had been involved in materials research, so chemistry and metallurgy experimental equipment were everywhere. All necessary for things we were making or planning to make at the time. The room was dominated by a small furnace, while the walls were lined with tables holding glass decanters, test tubes and beakers. All of which we had made ourselves from diagrams in chemistry books, but I digress. None of this should have been shown to strangers, yet there she was.

She wore a grey hood over her bright red hair, which framed a beautiful pale face, save for sharp eyes and a wary expression. Leather and chainmail covered her body, again in grey, embroidered with the symbol of the Chantry that I was all too familiar with now. Her hands were gloved and held two daggers, which accompanied the shortbow at her back. It looked like she knew how to use them, from her grip on the hafts. She stood straight in the middle of the room, well out of sword reach. Which would have been a sensible precaution against any normal opponent, but not against someone with firearms.

It was obvious to me that the woman was dangerous beyond anyone I had met thus far, save perhaps for the Iron Bull.

I took my own precautionary measure, putting my handcannon into my hand and flicking the safety off with my thumb. Sure I now had the absolute advantage, I walked inside and closed the door on Leha and Ciara behind me.

"Armen, what have you done?" I asked, my eyes still directed at the woman.

The mage groaned loudly. As if to waste time, he dragged a chair into the middle of the floor from a desk, turned it around and sat down across it backwards, leaning on the back of it.

"Actually, it is what you have done that got us into this mess," Armen said, before pointing at me and turning his head to the stranger, " _He_ burned down the prison, not me. Ask him, he won't deny it."

The woman didn't move, but addressed me in Orlesian-accented Common.

"Is it true?" she asked, "And if it is, why did you do it?" The why being a necessary question, given that I was supposedly a noble. She didn't look like the kind of person to appreciate bullshit, and I wasn't sure how much Armen had told her either. So I decided not to lie.

"Yes, that was me," I said, "It happened when I was escaping, they had locked me up on false charges." I was suddenly grateful to Armen for leaving Julie and Tam out of it. They had been beneficiaries of the fire too.

The woman took a step forward, and I raised my pistol. The blades were now that much closer, after all. Surprisingly, she stopped dead upon seeing my action. She didn't know what it was, that much as clear through her anger, but she knew from what she had done that it was a weapon.

"Do you know what you've done?!" she said, "You've moved this entire world closer to a war with the mages!" I didn't know that, which would have bothered me more if it wasn't for her tone. Accusatory as it was.

"I had no idea what would happen," I complained rather fairly I think, "And you know nothing about me." I had an urge simply to squeeze the trigger. Not to kill her, you understand, but incapacitate her and get to work on a little Zero Dark Thirty as we call it around here. What stopped me was two particulars; the fact that Armen hadn't subdued her himself, and something she herself did.

She sheathed a dagger and put a hand in a pocket for a moment, interrupting my decision as to whether or not it would be safer to shoot her in the leg or shoulder. From the pouch at her side, she removed a crumpled piece of paper. She held it up, and unfolded it with her fingers.

The Statue of Liberty peered at me in full colour, New York in the background.

A falling sensation hit me. Why the hell did Armen have that with him? I made the sickening realisation that my immunity to magic wasn't the darkest secret to be revealed in the days just passed. That was practically trivial, something that could be waved away as simply a natural anomaly. Possibly even a positive thing, given the fear of magic out there. The same could not be said for my true origins. They would almost certainly brand me a demon, I thought.

I lowered my weapon, utterly defeated.

"So you know," I said, "Or at least, you've been told." She obviously had doubts before.

"Until you walked in, I did not believe him," the woman said, "I thought this was simply an excellent forgery, but seeing you... I can tell something is strange. Alien, even. You are not from Thedas, it is obvious. Nor are you from the Fade."

I glanced at Armen, who looked apologetic. I cursed under my breath. If I found a visitor from another world was on Earth, I would have insured that the information would get out should I not return from a meeting with him or her. It seemed entirely logical, if not inevitable, that our guest would have thought along similar lines. I couldn't kill her, in other words. I'd be inviting a war, when I already was facing at least two others. I felt like I was running around a minefield.

"I suppose I should introduce myself," I said, falling back on pleasantry, "Captain Samuel Hunt, United Nations Mission to Syria and Iraq. Now Marquis de Layaette, I guess. Who are you?" Hopefully no one important, I thought. Fat chance.

"I am Sister Nightingale," the woman replied, "The Left Hand of the Divine." That last part was said with an authority designed to insure I knew it meant something. She seemed entirely unperturbed by my military rank or the mention of the United Nations. Armen had probably filled her in on that beforehand. Of course, I had absolutely no idea about her. Confused, I looked to the mage for guidance.

"She's the spymaster for the leader of the Andrastian faith, or one of them anyway," Armen explained, "She was the contact I was working for in Halamshiral." Which explained why Nightingale had hunted him down and interrogated him. Without knowing our story, it would look to any outsider like he had deliberately set off the warning signs to force the mages in the Circle Tower to rebel and escape. Which fit Armen's agenda, given that he was a radical Libertarian. We had plenty of time to discuss such things before this point, and I needed to know if I was going to help the Rebellion.

"I suppose a better question is why is she here," I said, "If she didn't believe you, she should have no reason to keep you alive or to show up at all."

"The drawing was enough," Sister Nightingale said, "If you had simply been a liar or a madman, then I still would have needed to come to eliminate you for undermining our faith with this mage." I let out a chuckle at that.

"Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition," I laughed, "What next? I kill you. Your lackeys come to try and kill me. They'll need to get in line." Behind Gaspard's troops, Celene's sheriffs, Templars, Ben-Hassrath assassins and the Baron himself.

"Perhaps I shall kill you instead," suggested the Sister, "Perhaps you will just be hurt enough to take back to Val Royeaux in one piece."

"Not damned likely," I said, raising the pistol again, "Either Armen didn't tell you about my weapons or you're insane. I'll shoot you down before you can even use that knife."

It was a stalemate. Or rather, I was waiting to see what this Nightingale would do. I am less sure it would have gone my way if we were facing off in the forest and she had her shortbow in-hand instead, but it wasn't a problem we were ever going to have. Armen saw to that.

The mage rose, magic bubbling off of him, and surprised the Sister. Her dagger flew from her hand and stuck in the wooden support beam between the double internal doors. Nightingale moved to draw her other one, taking a step towards Armen, but halted. I holstered my weapon, and raised my hands to show I meant no harm. For all my bravado and posturing, I had no need for another set of enemies, and something occurred to me as I was watching her.

She was a high ranking official of the church of the land, with whom I had significant trouble. Revered Mother Brandon, not least. This was an opportunity.

"How about we don't try and kill each other?" I said.

She hesitated for a moment, but the contained yet angry expression remained. It was an opening.

"Why don't you tell him why you're really here?" Armen said, "Why the Divine is interested at all?"

Sister Nightingale looked at the mage with narrowed eyes, and for a moment I thought she would lunge at him. Instead, she took her hand away from her remaining blade and undid the step she had taken forwards. It struck me that her sense of duty to her superior was a deep one. That was good news, as I had no notion of stepping on the Divine's toes in my head.

"When Halamshiral's mages rose up, the libertarians tried to head west to join the others," Sister Nightingale explained, "But the members of the other factions were forced to escape into the wilds. Divided, both groups ended up caught."

I looked at Armen, and he didn't looked sorry in the slightest. He knew I was judging him for it too.

"The others were offered the chance to join the Rebellion, they refused," he said, "Insanity. They already helped to kill Templars, but apparently they want to sit out the war." It made sense to me. Why go running off to join a war that you might lose when you could flee.

"Of course they did, Fereldan is next door," I said, "You told me yourself that King Whatshisface is friendly to mages."

"The Templars of Halamshiral knew that as well as the mages," interrupted Sister Nightingale, "They alerted the border posts and staked out the mountain passes." Which could only mean one thing.

"They have them put away somewhere horrible, don't they?" I asked. The woman nodded, as she took her other dagger out of the wall and placed it back in its sheathe.

"It appears so," the Sister continued, "And now, it has become a sticking point between the mages and the Templars. The senior enchanters want them released, the Templars have sent away for permission to annul them. If the first happens, the Templars will reject Chantry authority. If the second does, the mages will formally separate from the Chantry and the Rebellion will have an army in every major country or city in southern Thedas."

Armen stood up and waved his hand flippantly. "In other words, you can't control your guard dogs," he said, "Proving we were right all along to want to separate ourselves from you."

"The Templars are going rogue because you agitate against them," the Sister retorted, "Or did the Kirkwall Chantry blow _itself_ up?"

Irritated, I clicked my fingers together to turn their attention back to me. Their bickering was getting on my nerves, and the solution to me was clear.

"Where are the mages being held?" I asked, "How many are guarding them?"

"Sam, you can't hand them over to her even if we do rescue them," Armen objected, "They'd be put back in chains, just so the Templars can kill them in a few months or a year's time." Which was true but irrelevant. Giving them back to the Chantry wasn't the plan.

"The longer they are outside the Chantry's control, the less the Divine can protect them," the Sister replied, "There's a chance we can resolve this."

"I don't want it resolved, I want freedom like everyone else!" snapped Armen loudly.

I was losing control of them again, and I had reached my limit. My pistol left its holster again. I lifted it above my head and fired it at the roof. The flash bounced around the room followed by the boom of the nine milimetre bullet against the metal-reinforced roof. A soft pinging could be heard as the bullet itself dropped to the stone floor. The mage and the Sister both looked at me, the latter with a strange fearful expression before she got a handle of herself.

Satisfied I had the upper hand, I lowered my weapon, but kept it out.

"We will not be turning anyone over to the Chantry," I said firmly to the Sister, before turning to Armen, "Nor will we be handing unwilling mages to the Rebellion." Prisoners or conscripts, I had no intention of turning my hand to making them either.

Both opened their mouths to speak. I held up my finger to silence them, while still clutching the handcannon with the others. Both shut their mouths in unison, the Sister with a great deal more reluctance. She wasn't one to be cowed for long, so I resolved to explain quickly.

"We will break them out of whether they're being held," I explained, "And we'll bring them back here, where they'll be given the option of living under my protection and supervision. I'm sure everyone here agrees that I am qualified to do that much." I was gambling somewhat that Armen had told her about my ability to repel Fade works. In truth, it was barely a gamble. The Sister had almost certainly got it out of him. As if to confirm just that, she said nothing, passively consenting to my plan.

By contrast, Armen went from angry back to his old self in the space of a second. His grin returned, fighting through his fatigue. I was glad to see it, and slapped him on the shoulder with a grin of my own.

"That should make things more interesting around here," he admitted, "When do we go?"

"Unfortunately, after the funeral," I said, "All three of you, follow me."

The pair looked confused for a second, until Tam emerged from behind the experimental furnace's bulky mass with a completely unapologetic look on her face.

"How did you know?" she asked.

"You disappeared earlier," I replied, "Knew you'd follow me, though I'm not sure how you got in here."

"Window behind the furnace was open," Tam replied, as she was looked up and down by the Sister. The Left Hand of the Divine took a moment to complete her sizing up of the Qunari, before giving a curious motion with her face at me. I waved it off and opened the door again, finding Leha and Ciara attempting to eavesdrop at it. Unsurprising, given the gunshot.

We left and went to the wagons. There was still one small matter to take care of. The soldiers were busy as we crossed the plaza, the ones that had stayed behind at least. They were dragging wooden logs and kindling from the storage sheds to the middle of the parade ground, and stacking them. Building the pyres for the dead, in other words.

"Has someone died?" the Sister asked. She was sharp, I'll give her that.

"More than one," I replied, as we came to the wagons. Thankfully devoid of the chests of gold, which were in the basement by that time. Julie was nowhere to be seen though. Probably because of what was still on one of the wagons.

White Mask's mage lay dead, the blood in his robes diluted with some rainwater and splattered with mud as well as gore. I remembered his impressive lightning attacks for a moment, the cause of many wounds received by my men and women. He wouldn't be burned with them. He'd be dropped in a ditch, far into the forest where no one would ever find him. At least, after I was finished with him here.

I pulled down his hood, revealing short curly brown hair and the pallor that dead people have on their faces. The bullet wound from Julie's firelance at his chest was obvious, marked with a deeper red than the blood his clothing had simply picked up from the ground. No one seemed particularly perturbed by the sight, though I remember the bastard's face in vivid detail even today. I wonder if Julie does as well, sometimes.

"Do you know this man?" I asked Armen, stepping away so he could see properly.

A quick look later, and Armen's smile still hadn't disappeared. If anything, it grew wider.

"Dupont," he said, "He was a Loyalist, related to the Counts of Dupont. He got out a lot, and he was quite vocally against us." Us meaning those who wanted to get out all the time. I knew Armen would know who he was, the robes were too similar for anything else to be the case.

"Why?" asked Tam, "Why does it matter?"

"I thought we might have more trouble on our hands," I replied, "Or maybe that we had an opportunity." And it was neither. We were about to have more mages poking around regardless, and the idea to return the body for some extra kudos was a poor one if he wasn't rebel-leaning. I felt like I had brought the body back for nothing, but it had been worth the shot at least.

"What now?" yawned Ciara, stretching.

"We burn the dead," I replied, "Then get down to business."

Business that would eventually see us face off against two factions in the winter snows, one of which we couldn't see coming, one of which we would have had to face regardless.

* * *

 _AUTHOR'S NOTE: And we're back! The hiatus is over, full writing will continue in parallel with my ME stories, but I expect fairly regular updates to be ready as before._

 _So, Leliana. Not much in this one of her, but we'll be seeing a good bit more of her in other chapters, not least the next one. I'm sure you can tell that she hasn't exactly decided what to do about Sam yet._

 _ **great northern one:** Hoplites have several disadvantages that rendered them obsolete. In Sam's case, it's their lack of flexibility that's the problem. They can't move quickly, they don't use ranged weapons, and they're only really good in open combat as opposed to hit and run strategies. Even in open warfare, they're bested by pike phalanxes, Roman-style infantry tactics, archery and horse archery. Not to mention mages, who are basically walking howitzers, and Qunari cannons, both of which could take a chunk of out of formations in an instant. _

_You'll see something like hoplite warfare later, but it's going to be in a different context and it'll be some time before those chapters are out._

 _ **5 Coloured Walker:** Chances that Armen's coming along are high now, as you can probably see._

 _ **Ripper1337:** The style of writing is inspired by several sources, most influential of these is probably the Ciaphas Cain series. Sam is a very different character to Cain though, so there are other influences too._

 _ **LordGhostStriker:** He'll see one or two, but I can say no more than that without spoiling..._

 _ **Guest:** Cheers, I think. If someone can translate this guy's review from Spanish better than Google Translate can, I'd appreciate it. _

_**KiraReaper:** Glad to hear it, it's not all humour. We've no shortage of bloodshed on Earth ourselves._

 _ **Asahar:** There won't be sex scenes in this, sorry lad. I considered it, but felt it wouldn't fit the concept of what is essentially an autobiography. There'll be talk about it, but no descriptions beyond the sort we've already seen, and only then when it's relevant._

 _ **Exillion:** I am disinclined to acquiesce to your request. For three reasons._

 _One, this isn't harem. Sam won't be collecting any more lovers, and frankly, if the harem belongs to anyone it belongs to Julie. Not that you can call it a harem anyway, it's three people instead of two, it won't be getting more explicit than this, and the point of the whole triangle is entirely relevant to the rest of the plot. This isn't Lemon._

 _Two, you insulted me. Not exactly appropriate for a review in the first place._

 _Three, this isn't the first time you have insulted me in a review. I recall with amusement your review of my Battlefield 2183 story._

 _Let me spare you the trouble. Don't bother reading and reviewing my writings again. I doubt you'll see this, but alas, your arrogance and ignorance is mindnumbing. It required a comment. One. Good luck._


	20. Chapter 20: Bonfires

**Chapter Twenty: Bonfires**

 _The minstrel boy to the war is gone,  
In the ranks of death you'll find him,  
His father's sword he has girded on,  
And his wild harp slung behind him,  
"Land of Song!" said the warrior bard,  
"Though all the world betrays thee,  
One sword, at least, thy rights shall guard,  
One faithful harp shall praise thee!"_

A drummer and flutist played as the little elf girl with long black hair sang out the words to the Minstrel Boy, her head uncovered and ears poking out of the strands.

I had just finished a short speech about their bravery, one that didn't measure up to my purpose as much as the song did. Men and women stood by listening, their fellows with torches in hand to light the funeral pyres of the seven dead soldiers. Not one of them was immune from the effects. There were tears and the air felt heavy. Even I felt a deep sorrow build up in my throat, clutching at it, as that little girl sang the words until her voice became strained. Then fire began to consume the bodies.

The singing girl was not the only elf with their head uncovered. In fact, every single one had put down their hood. I noticed this for one particular reason. Until the funeral, very very few would have been seen outside without their heads covered. Or more accurately, their ears. Soprano was one of the few exceptions, but she wasn't someone to be trifled with in the first place and everyone knew it. Baby steps towards unity, I hoped at the time. Which they were, but of course, not everyone wants progress. Thankfully, those sorts of problems in the future, and for the moment, my people were one.

Word got around very quickly that I had casually walked through an attack that should have rendered me into fried longpig, extra crispy. It wasn't admiration or hope alone that was holding the whole project together, and those things were certainly there. Fear and doubt were there too. Even as we watched the bodies burn, there were glances towards me, mostly from those who hadn't followed me to fight White Mask's thugs. I wasn't the only one to notice.

"They're afraid of you," said Sister Nightingale, watching the crowd intently as the smell of smoke and burning flesh wafted on the air. I growled lowly at the statement. Thank you, Captain Obvious, for that wonderful observation.

"They don't know about the big thing, if that's what you're wondering," I said, making it perfectly clear that she wasn't to continue speaking on it, "They have heard about what I did before we met is all."

"You say that as if it was nothing," Julie deadpanned from in front of us.

"Can't take credit for something that isn't of my own doing," I replied, not cheered by her sarcasm. After all, I didn't want to think too hard about the consequences of my existence on this world. I did nothing to ask for my transportation to Thedas, and certainly did nothing to warrant my... power.

"I'm glad you are immune to the saarebas' powers," Tam boomed from behind, "They're dangerous. Every one of them." Which was more true than I would have liked to believe, but I could not know that. The only mages I had encountered were Armen, who had no shortage of scheming but a lack of malice about him, and White Mask's personal human-cannon, who essentially was a puppet. Abominations and other assorted things would have to be left for another day. Still, it was one of Tam's weird ways of saying she was glad I was safe from it all, and saying she was glad to have me around. I appreciated it.

"Have I done something to offend you?" said Armen, approaching without his customary smile, "I forgive you your Qunari ways."

Tam made a face like she had just eaten something sour, but swallowed the response out of respect to the dead. Armen kept staring until Ciara punched him on the shoulder, and indicated to follow her lead in not fighting in front of funerary pyres. I'm sure he had a witty comeback, but I guess he could read the mood after all, as he held his tongue afterwards. Thankfully.

For a little while, we were silent. The only thing that could be heard was crackling wood and the waves of heat moving the air past us. It was strangely calming, and I began to understand why open-air cremation had such a hold on Thedosian culture. It wasn't just that Andraste had been burned, but it was the experience itself. The body consumed and the soul sent to heaven on flame. My mind wandered into itself so much that I almost didn't hear the next question asked of me.

"When will you march?" the Sister asked, "How many will you bring?"

I blinked away my torpor, having not expected the question.

"Tomorrow morning after dawn," I replied, "With everyone who can walk on two legs." Except for a single squad to protect the place while I was gone. As well as Julie. The stubborn idiot had refused to come along, said that the Baron would be expecting his money and delaying was a bad idea. Breaking the news that we wouldn't be refunding his friends was also best left to her, but it made a bad taste in my mouth. I glanced over at her for a moment. Madamoiselle Marteau was engrossed with the flames.

"Excellent. I shall retire for the night," the Sister replied, "I will be joining you." Without waiting for a reply, the woman stalked off into the darkness behind until her form disappeared from the light of the fires. Damned typical of a spymaster, I thought. Clearly a noble too; I hadn't said whether or not I agreed with her tagging along. She didn't care. Neither did I, truth be told, she already knew everything.

"She's not a cheery one, is she?" frowned Leha, "Even at a funeral, she brought down the mood."

"She has many burdens," Tam said, not moving her gaze from the nearest pyre, "That much is obvious." Indeed, she did have, such as they were. Some of which I would share in the future, and I was far more able to bear them than she was in some cases. I was already broken, you see.

"I guess I'll go sleep too," said Leha, "I'm not comfortable with this sort of thing, and I'll need the sleep." That got our attention, as you'd imagine.

"You're coming with us?" asked Ciara, "Are you mad?"

"Why on Earth would you?" I added. Leha looked at me strangely, and I realised I had made a mistake with that phrase.

"I've been hearing things all day, Marquis," the dwarf said, "Things I wish to see with my own eyes. The big thing, as you put it." I was at a loss for words. I had entirely forgot she had been standing there as I talked to the Sister. The dwarf could sense my unease. She had a little smile on her face when she walked away towards the château.

"Are you going to tell her?" asked Ciara.

"Hell no," I replied, "I haven't even given her a key to our library, no way I let her in on the secret."

I was gravely underestimating Leha, of course, but for the moment, I had bigger problems. A prison break, no less. Sister Nightingale had given all the details of the prison. Its location, layout, estimated garrison and who else apart from the mages we might find in it. She knew a lot.

I mulled over how I intended to defeat the defences for a moment, as the singing turned to the more traditional religious chants. The same I had heard said over Duval's men. It gave me an idea.

* * *

Early the next morning, armed assembly was called as I had ordered the previous evening and the entirety of the town showed up, it seemed. Not just people who lived around L'Ambassade, but a good number from Hearth itself. Relatives and friends of my soldiers, and their curious friends. I would later learn that my little lightning walk trick was the subject of tavern talk all around town, but for the moment I thought that it was just well-wishers, given that we were marching out again a day after returning with casualties.

Mike and McNulty had managed to impose some sort of order on the crowds, moving them off the parade grounds and to the edges, so that the troops could present themselves properly. Given how many hours we sank into getting the latter to stand in a straight line and understand why they needed to, I thoroughly approved of this. My little militia was getting close to being worthy of the title 'military' in my own eyes, a huge compliment given that almost nobody in Thedas deserved that title at the time.

I dressed in fresh fatigues, put on my beret, armour and weapons, and saw that the wagons were correctly packed, before mounting Bellona and riding around the château to the square. Julie and Tam were waiting for me in the middle of the space in front of the ranks atop Revas and Fritz. I also spied Armen, Leha and Ciara on a cart near the entrance, looking on. I rode up to the former group, and it was all smiles. Not exactly the reaction I was used to on going to war, but a pleasant one nonetheless.

I looked around for Sister Nightingale but couldn't find her anywhere. Troubled by this, I called over McNulty and Soprano, to ask them if they knew where she was. I had brought them in to give them the plan and explain the reason behind it before the funeral, so they had met her before and knew well enough to keep an eye on her.

"She rode out earlier, Marquis," Soprano replied flatly, "Told us that she would meet up on the road."

"Unfortunate too," added McNulty, clearly wanting the Sister in eyeshot for another reason entirely to security. Satisfied that I'd see her again and amused by the man's risky lechery, I rode out a little further in front of my men and women.

Before we set out, I had to explain what we were going to do. I had to know they were with me.

"Soldiers, I know that some of you have just returned to see your families and bury our dead, but we have another task to complete before we can rest. You all know of the terrible events at Kirkwall, and you will have heard of the unrest this has caused between the mages and the Templar Order. Most of you will also know that the Circle at Halamshiral rebelled some months ago, and that Templars have been hunting those that escaped. I am here to tell you that the mages rebelled only as a result of the fear that they were about to be killed without proper Chantry authority."

My soldiers' eyes moved, but their bodies remained still. They were considering the words. The captains had already informed them of the objective, but they had been told to wait for me to explain the why behind it. I continued, unsure of whether or not I could convince them.

"Many of these mages have been recaptured by the Templars. They are still under the threat of death at an instant. These are not abominations, apostates or blood mages, but followers of Andraste like any of you, yet the Templars will kill them. If they are killed, every loyal Circle in Thedas will rise and war will be upon the entire world. Unless we act."

Murmurs of disapproval in the crowds to the sides echoed around in the cold air, biting me as much as the temperature. The soldiers stayed silent, their faces increasingly grave. That was far from encouraging. Time to play the bluff.

"I have been contacted by the agents of Divine Justinia, asking that I intervene to protect these innocents in this time of crisis. I am a peacekeeper, a soldier tasked with standing between war and the innocent. I must follow my oath. I cannot however force any of you to do the same. This must be your choice. All those that wish to follow me, to become peacekeepers, step forward five paces."

No one moved.

My heart dropped, as soldiers began looking at each other in bewilderment. In retrospect, it was the fact I was giving them a choice at all as their supposed liege lord contributed to their uncertainty, along with the idea of fighting Templars in the first place. I was ignorant of this, and thought the worst. I had no choice but to try nearly alone, which would be much more risky. There were over two hundred Templars in the prison according to the Sister's reports.

I hadn't counted on Mike, however. The tiny elf stepped forwards in her full battle-dress and raised her voice.

" _Bataillon en avant, cinq pas!_ " she roared.

Her voice boomed around the grounds, silencing everyone who was whispering or talking among themselves in an instant. The next instant, every single one of the one hundred and seventy or so soldiers stepped forward five paces as ordered. I gave them the choice, but it was clear who made the decision. They were beginning to think like a unit, a single entity to live or die together. In warfare on my world, you either come together like that or you die. In this world, it gives the ultimate edge in battle. Only the Qunari can command that sort of cohesion, and they lose it in battle rage more often than not.

The weight on my insides lifted as the faces in front of me were resolute. I turned to Mike in the saddle. The sergeant grimaced with satisfaction as she looked over the soldiers. Exasperated but pleased, I had Bellona trot over beside her. She stood to attention immediately.

"At ease, Sergeant," I said, "And thank you."

"You're welcome, Marquis," Mike replied in clipped tones, "Orders?"

"Take the lead, sergeant," I replied, "Have them halt on the road, the Sister should be waiting for you there."

Mike saluted, and made her way to her own horse, newly liberated from a dead chevalier. I watched her ride down the line to both McNulty and Soprano, relaying my orders before moving on to the front of the columns. The captains shouted their own orders to turn left and march. The ranks began filing out of the parade ground and through the estate's gates, drum beats and flutes carrying them along as they did so. I was reminded of the funeral, and prayed my plan to break the prison would work. The smell of ashes was still around too, and it would be again soon. Not in sorrow, thank the Maker.

"My Lord Hunt," came a call from behind me. I wheeled Bellona in the saddle, getting a neigh for my trouble before she complied with a shake of her head. Julie trotted over too, given who had called.

Élodie and Claire approached, their masks removed. They were both wearing workclothes, though these were clean and free of the soot and smoke stains that so often adorned their sister's own. The bags under their eyes testified that they were tired, not to mention their fatigued gait. They were slightly haunched, and as they came closer, I could hear that they were breathing heavily. They were carrying an item each. Élodie had a large pouch with something rolled up in it, carrying it across herself above her now visible baby-bump. Claire carried a spear that had to be twelve or thirteen feet high, but was thin enough to be carried with one hand.

The sight confused me. Bemused me, even. I remember thinking that they couldn't possibly want to join us to fight, did they? They were civilians, through and through.

"My ladies?" I said speculatively, falling into my false identity, hoping one of them would clarify their purpose. Julie rode around to the side, and stole my attention. Meanwhile, her sisters began to unravel the cloth bag.

"I saw you looking at the chevaliers' banners," Julie said, "So I had this made for us."

The two sisters stepped apart, and revealed a beautiful sight indeed. It was a silken flag, of the identical light-blue colour as my beret. In the middle were two olive-branches enveloping a representation of the Earth as a globe, all stitched and detailed in a blinding white. The edges of the flag were in a bright yellow trim, and there were cords of the same colour for securing the flag to the spear that Claire carried.

I was stunned. The last time I had seen such a flag, I had been on Earth. It was flawless too, so much so that it could have been flown on the world of my birth without anyone batting an eyelid as to its actual origins. The banner of the United Nations now flew on two worlds.

"I copied the design from the books," Julie continued, "I thought that if we must go to war, it should be under the banner of the world we wanted." I looked at her with a wide smile, and nodded. It was a spectacular gift.

"I hope you like it, because we stayed up all night finishing it once Julie told us you would be marching again," said Élodie, as she began to attach the flag to its staff, "You're lucky I wasn't able to sleep anyway." That was an obvious lie, but my appreciation for the efforts of both sisters was too great for me to be annoyed by it, and I simply chuckled.

"It's the best sigil I've seen," Claire added, "I don't understand what it is, though." My chuckle turned to a laugh,

The flagstaff was handed up to Tam to carry, and the Qunari stared at it for a moment while running the fabric over the top of her palm. Her eyes moved around, inspecting every detail. She liked it, I could tell.

"Will you carry it for me?" I asked, "The sight of you with this banner will scare the living shit out of our enemies, and you'll look absolutely beautiful to anyone else." Including me. The reputation of her people was well known, after all. The sight of a Qunari with a cause other than that of the Qun ought to give pause to any Thedosian, I thought.

Tam's warmer smile appeared. "That's a good idea," the Qunari said, as she moved her hold on the staff and raised it. The autumn wind caught the silk, and it billowed out behind her.

Julie rode up to me, and taking me by the waist softly, delivered a kiss goodbye. Her eyes lingered on mine for a moment, and I realised that she was worried. Not content to leave her in such a state, I had to say something.

"Don't worry, we'll win," I said.

"I know," Julie replied, trotting Revas around the back of Bellona to Tam.

She kissed the Qunari in the same way she had kissed me, and then sat up bolt straight in the saddle.

"Take care of him," Julie said in a commanding tone. For her part, Tam nodded once, and the pair of them looked back over at me. I frowned, wondering why that had to be said.

"Shouldn't that be the other way around?" I asked. Admittedly, my male pride had been prickled somewhat by the assumption. After all, I was a veteran of wars neither of them could even dream about in their worst nightmares, packing all sorts of heat, and used to fighting with men almost exclusively. Both Julie and Tam grinned at my complaint.

"You are not from Thedas, Sam," Julie explained, "Now go rescue the mages, so they can rescue us." An apt statement if ever there was one. I tilted my head away, not willing to give her the point directly but giving away my compliance with the gesture nonetheless.

Tam and I donned our round Earth-helmets, and Claire and Élodie stepped back to allow our passage. Together we rode off to join our columns and wagons. Just before we passed the gate, I slowed Bellona to a trot and had a last look at Julie. She didn't look sad, angry, happy or anything. She just looked. I winked at her and smiled, before joining Tam in advancing to the front along the edge of the road.

We soon came up on the wagon which Armen was driving, Ciara and Leha lounging on the back on top of my toys. If they knew what they were sitting on, I wondered if they'd be so calm. I snickered to myself as we passed.

The blue flag did not go unnoticed as we moved, and almost every soldier lifted their eyes to look. This pleased me. I suspect it would have pleased the Secretary-General as well. Regardless, it was their flag now too.

* * *

The weather on the march was pleasant for autumn, and warmer than it had been for weeks before. Aside from the cold breeze, there was nothing to stop us from making a solid twenty five miles a day. We probably could have went faster, particularly if we had loaded up the wagons with some of the troops in shifts, but I didn't want to wear out the pack horses. Who knew what condition some of the mages would be in when we arrived? I had already seen the inside of a supposedly civilised detention facility, and I had no doubt that the Templar prison was worse. I had been informed as much.

Sister Nightingale was silent with me throughout the next few days.

In the day, she rode at the head of the column with Mike or Soprano. I watched her a little in that time. Her head and eyes were constantly on the move, scanning the countryside to either side of the road and ahead on the trail. She had been trained in observation techniques of some kind, evidently, and I began to regret agreeing to Julie's demand to stay behind. We lost an excellent opportunity to learn more about the mysterious spymaster of the Chantry there, most definitely.

At night, the Sister walked through the camp, talking to a few people here and there, as if she wasn't some terrifying killer. She had extreme social grace, effortlessly injecting herself into any conversation that she happened to pass by. Closer to the hour to sleep, she would sit in a tent and scribble in journals for a few hours before turning in. I recognised intelligence gathering when I saw it, as primitive as her techniques were in that regard. Of course, technology greatly helps you along in that. It sent shivers down my spine that her reports would eventually be seen by the highest religious authority on the continent. If the Divine didn't like what she read, us fleeing to Tevinter or the Qunari were hardly sound options, or so I thought. All the more reason to have these mages on-side.

The troops themselves were in high spirits. Many of them watched me, waiting for me to do something amazing at random. I spoke to them, joked about the events of the past few days. What they called the Battle in the Rain was the main topic of discussion. I decided to be open with them as much as possible. They asked about my immunity to magic around the campfires often. How it worked, how I got it, what I intended to do with it. I answered honestly. No magic can affect me, for good or ill. I do not know how I had this power. I would use it to protect what I had and those important to me.

That last bit usually encouraged them, as they counted themselves almost as my possessions despite my removing their feudal ties to me. I wasn't exactly pleased by this attitude, but I figured it was the first step. Deference is not a disadvantage in the military, after all. As long as the guys up top know what they're doing.

When the Sister eventually did get around to speaking to me, it was the morning of November 5th, a few hours before we would arrive at our destination. All of us were negotiating hills and small valleys at this point, and it wasn't long before light snow began appearing in patches. I was riding alongside Tam in front of the wagons when she finally deemed me worthy of conversation. She rode up on a brown horse, one very obviously bred for speed and endurance. She wore a studious expression as she fell in beside us for a few minutes, not saying anything. I was intrigued by the horse for a moment, until I noticed its rider. Her stare was directed at both Tam and myself, I might add. It was more than a little irritating. Satisfied we could have a conversation more privately thanks to the steady beat of drums and feet on the ground, I decided I couldn't take it any more.

"Is there something I can help you with, Madame Nightingale?" I asked, injecting my annoyance into my tone.

The Sister's head jerked towards me slightly in my peripheral vision, but I kept my eyes forward.

"Yes you can, Captain," she said in a polite manner, "Or is it Marquis?" Her attempt at maintaining the niceties did nothing for my mood. I scowled at her, which just seemed to amuse the woman to no end.

"Marquis," I replied, "It's my real position now anyway." I was beginning to enjoy the title, at least when dealing with people who thought highly of themselves. Of course, Sister Nightingale actually had reason to think as such, given her skills and position. She remained an interloper in my mind, and a potential threat of unimaginable magnitude. She was definitely one of the few people in Thedas who had seen things on a level with what I had. I decided to have a gulp from my flask.

"I have been speaking to your men," the Sister continued, "They are of the opinion that you were sent by the Maker."

My drink went down the wrong way upon my hearing that, causing me to cough and splutter it back. What a thing to say!

"Good God, I hope not," I wheezed by turning to the other rider in our group, "Tam, do you know anything about this?" She kept her ear to the ground on things as far as I was aware, and I definitely needed a second opinion.

Tam nodded immediately. "That is the opinion among the women I have talked to, yes," she said, "Though I can't say I agree with it." Of course she couldn't, she knew me far more intimately. As for why it was women she was talking to, most of the men were either trying to get into her pants or were intimidated by her. She held a nebulous position in our military hierarchy too, which didn't make things easier. Still, I couldn't help but make the joke.

"Ah, I see. Just as long as it's the women who think the Maker sent me..." I mused. Tam grinned at that, and pat me on the top of my helmet hard a few times.

"Whatever you need to believe," she said.

"You aim to please," I replied.

This exchange elicited perhaps the most polite 'Ahem' that I have ever heard. Sister Nightingale's patience for such banter was fairly short, undoubtedly because I was deflecting from the main problem. Which was the point. I had and have no desire to be a figure of religious worship, but anyone knows that denying it openly doesn't work. Simply ignoring the phenomenon is far better. Thankfully, Julie would divert much of this sort of attention from me soon.

I'm not the Messiah, I'm a very naughty boy.

"If you are from another world, there can be no other explanation save one," the Sister pressed, "Either the Maker brought you here or demons did. No one else would have the power."

I chuckled at the absurdity of it. I was tempted to confirm the latter conclusion just to see what she did, but as it would have undoubtedly resulted in a confrontation ending in her death by gunshot, I thought better of it. Of course, there was a gaping hole in her theory.

"Or it was natural," I said, "I've seen no evidence so far that I was brought here for a purpose. Truth be told, your deity doesn't seem to be the same one as mine." I was having greater doubts on that. Fucking multiverse.

"The Maker works in mysterious ways," the Sister replied without hesitation, "He spoke to me at a time of crisis for the whole world, and yet I was unworthy of such attention." That was quite a statement, and it left my eyes wide with surprise. It drove a fairly huge wedge between my God and the Maker. My God didn't speak to people like that, not any more. Guess he figures things are a little too crowded on Earth for it to be of any use.

I wasn't the only one interested in that bit. Tam's head swivelled quickly to begin a intricate inspection of the Sister, like what she had said had meant something to the Qunari. Indeed it had, but for the moment, I was more concerned with dodging the divine bullet. Pun intended.

"The Maker brought you here, or demons did," the Sister said firmly, "That you don't know the purpose means nothing, it can exist without your knowledge of it." Which was a fair point.

Of course, it was neither the Maker, nor demons, nor a natural occurrence that transported me to Thedas, and we'd be learning about that soon enough. Of course, magic was involved, so I suppose it is accurate to say that the Maker allowed it and that demons probably benefited from the process. For the moment, I was not going to indulge in idle speculation.

"It doesn't matter who brought me here, I'm not their puppet," I rebuked, "Anyone who presumes to assume so is going to feel it." Feel hot, copper-jacketed lead at high velocity. Or a blast wave from some high explosives. Either way, they'd be excessively dead. A warning that Sister Nightingale didn't seem to take any heed of.

"Tell me Marquis, what is your world like?" she said, as if she were merely continuing a casual conversation we had already embarked on. It was extremely frustrating, as she completely had defused the tension in an instant. How she was doing it, I did not know. It seemed wrong to remain with my guard up in the face of her complete obliviousness, artificial as it was. I sighed, and felt compelled to answer.

"Not that different to here, really," I said, "Except we are more advanced. Even our most primitive nations would likely defeat Orlais, Tevinter or the Qunari in battle, and their … peasants likely live twice as long." Albeit at no small cost. Firearms give you a huge advantage over mages in all circumstances, and indeed the direct use of mages in battle is sheer folly in my mind. Though the particular nations' soldiers would probably cower in fear if some nutjob shot lightning at them with a stick. At first. Then they'd toke up some hallucinogens and charge headlong into it, Kalashnikovs blazing. As for life expectancies, they're only so high due to aid from more advanced nations.

Thedas had magic. Earth has chemistry. Chemistry beats magic. Most of the time.

"No elves though," came Armen's contribution from the cart behind, as if Earth must be entirely boring without elves. Admittedly, having multiple species did make things interesting. But also more fraught with conflict. Evidently, the noise of the march hadn't provided the privacy I had hoped for, and I buried my face in my palm.

"No Qun either," Tam added, a great deal more cheerfully than Armen had.

I turned around in my saddle to tell the mage to shut up, but was confronted with the sight of Leha looking like she had just been slapped across the face after being rejected by a desire demon. Knowing she must have heard the entire conversation, I groaned loudly. She wasn't supposed to be informed of my origins. Complications upon complications.

"You're from another world?!" she said, "When were you going to tell me that?!" I groaned and ignored her. She seemed to begin brooding, which was a very bad sign.

"See what you've done?" I asked the Sister, "Now my secret will be all over Hearth by the end of the week." Leha could keep a secret when she wanted to, especially if it affected her profits, but was most definitely what anyone would call a gossip. It was half the reason she made such a good source of information in the first place. Too bad that the door opened two ways in that.

"If they believe her," the Sister retorted, "Besides, that is not the rumour you should worry about."

"Oh, and what pray tell should I worry about?" I said, "I've already got enough trouble without that becoming common knowledge."

The Sister rode ahead and stopped in front of me and Tam, causing Fritz and Bellona to rear up slightly to halt. The whole column of wagons and the rearguard were forced to a stop as well, and the temptation to shoot her again arose.

"If the Templars discover what we will do at the prison, you will find out," she said, "And the Divine can be in no way implicated if they catch you, is that clear?" I snorted my disdain for whatever the Templars regarded as force.

"Allow me to make something clear myself," I replied, "You are a primitive. The Templars are primitives. Everyone here, is a primitive. How you look upon an Avvar raiding party is exactly how I see all of your societies. You're freakin' barbarians with bows and arrows. All I want to do is live in peace, but if I'm threatened with death and torture, I'll have no choice but to show you all what war really is."

Needless to say, I had my fill of threats from every quarter. To hell with Orlais, the Chantry, the Qun, and every little tinpot prick from the Dales to Par Vollen. I had the knowledge to undo entire nations if I needed it. It was getting hard to follow my determination to keep Earth weapons technology off the table. Especially when all the powers that be seemed to want from me was death. The only people not worthy of utter contempt were those in my inner circle, and there was hope for those in my charge.

I guess Julie and Tam were rubbing off on me. Phrasing.

The Sister was not impressed with my little speech, to my complete lack of surprise. She was clearly contemptuous of my threats, as much as I was of hers. Given that she was extremely dangerous, as well as stubborn to the point of being utterly certain in her convictions, that was inevitable. Her eyes penetrated me with her disdain. I kept a straight face and looked right back. It went like that for a few more seconds, until Tam rode alongside with her hand on her longsword. Nightingale broke off her gaze.

"We shall see," she said, before finally allowing the resumption of the march. Indeed we would.

* * *

The prison at Wolf's Lair was in the foothills of the mountains that separated Ferelden from Orlais, north of the Emprise du Lion and east of Hearth. Its surroundings were what you'd expect; tall evergreen trees with hardy shrubs clinging to more rocky areas, exposed stone in increasing regularity as we ascended higher, wildlife thinning out for reasons the name of the place probably gives away. Wolves tracked our column cautiously in the forest. I was disturbed that any such animals would act that way towards humans or elves, but I was still living in an Earth mindset, wherein wolves were taught long ago to fear us, hunted by wolfhounds and firelances.

We had plenty of information on the prison itself courtesy of Sister Nightingale, but seeing it in person was quite a different thing. It was constructed at the site of an old dwarva lyrium mine, cut into the side of a large cliff and protected by a curtail wall. There was a large space between the wall and the cliff face, studded with buildings where the guards and staff lived and where supplies were kept. The mine entrances were beyond those, capped with metal cage doors. Those mines were where the prisoners lived, in a complex miles long cut into the rock.

For years, the tunnels had been the only independent source of lyrium in the entire world, until the supply ran dry and Orlais turned it into a prison. The Templars took over control only a few years before when it was discovered the place had strong anti-magical properties, making it the perfect place to house mages that had deviant views. Death wasn't enough for such people in the eyes of the Templars, but there were only a few ever imprisoned until Halamshiral's Circle threw off their chains and escaped. There were possibly as many as five hundred mages of all ages trapped behind metal and stone defences, guarded by two hundred Templars and an unknown number of Chantry attendants.

It was a complicated set of circumstances to negotiate.

I looked up at the walls from the edge of the treeline, behind which we were hiding. They were lit up an angry red by the low winter sun. They weren't particularly large, just large enough to fend off the mountain raiders and darkspawn attacks that occasionally came along. It would have taken ladders or siege towers to scale them. My weapons could crack them most likely, but getting close enough to do it and then withdrawing from the blast once the Templars were aware of our presences would be impossible. We didn't have time to lay siege or build enough ladders to make that an option, and it would cost me more lives than I was willing to pay. Perhaps even my own life, though I was less worried about that. Thought maybe I'd even wake up from the whole Thedas thing if I did.

I was contemplating what to do, when Sister Nightingale approached from behind. I felt she could answer a few questions of mine, so I waved her over.

"I don't suppose you have a trebuchet under your chainmail?" I asked flippantly, "Otherwise this is going to be a problem." Tossing satchel charges by medieval catapult would have worked, to say the least.

The Sister stepped further forward with a frown, her eyes scanning the battlements until a resigned air crossed them. She had known about the problem beforehand, I realised. I groaned inwardly, and got out my binoculars. The spymaster was testing me. Assessing my capabilities and philosophies, seeing what I would do when confronted with this problem, what I would think of it and how I would overcome it if at all. I was being judged, and I had no intention of failing under inspection by a major political force.

"I'm afraid not, Marquis," she said flatly, "What will you do?"

It was a good question.

My thoughts moved to my imperatives, what I was looking to achieve. I needed to get inside the prison to free the mages, and I couldn't take casualties doing it. To do that, I needed to get my own battalion past or over the walls to engage the Templars, preferably before they could bring their full strength off of guard duties in the mines and around the entrances. Or before they could begin reprisals or hostage taking against the prisoners. Something occurred to me.

I brought my binoculars up to my eyes and scanned the top of the wall and the towers that punctuated it. As I thought, there were very few guards looking out into the evening forest gloom. One per tower, as far as I could tell and two in the gatehouse. Like many prisons, they were more concerned about the prisoners breaking out than people trying to break in. Probably more so given that the inmates could shoot fire from their fingertips. That opened up two possibilities, ranked by desirability.

"Sister Nightingale, how familiar are you with the Templars?" I asked, "Their doctrines and ideas, especially."

The Sister tilted her head at the question, not sure how it was relevant to getting inside. She nodded slightly before answering, as if she had noted my move.

"I am as familiar as it is possible to be, without being a Templar anyway," she replied, "I am knowledgeable of all their traits, both open and secret." As the Divine had ordered her to be, no doubt. The Templars were already becoming rebellious themselves.

I smiled, glad to hear that I wouldn't just be guessing.

"If I made a show of force, would they surrender?" I asked. Offering them the opportunity after encouraging their compliance was a classic peacekeeping tactic, one that I had used successfully myself on one or two occasions. Nothing quite like seeing an angry crowd back off at the collective click of firelances being readied to shoot. Unfortunately, Templars are not a mob or even soldiers.

The Sister's eyes and mouth both smirked at my naiveté, like the idea was entirely absurd. I pinched the bridge of my nose in frustration.

"They would certainly not surrender. They are charged with the imprisonment of hundreds of apostates," she said, "In fact, they are likely to attempt to kill the mages if they discover your goal." Which meant we couldn't give the Templars the opportunity to do so, which also meant putting the lives of my soldiers on the line beyond what I was comfortable with. Most of them were still green.

"That's just great," I muttered.

There was only one route to victory left open to me. The towers at the outermost edges were vulnerable because of the surrounding stone. They had blindspots that I could exploit. Just not with my entire force.

"Well, I guess this means we're going rock climbing," I said flippantly. The Sister simply stared back at me, not quite getting my meaning.

* * *

I was unable to take the bare minimum of people, to my chagrin. Tam and Ciara were the two essential people, and originally I planned to go with them alone. They were both adept at sneaking about, and both utterly deadly with weapons far more quiet than my own. I had no desire to sound alarms with gunfire, so until we accomplished what I intended, I would need their skills. However, as Ciara donned Earth panoply for the first time and we got together the toys to crack the prison wide open, others invited themselves along to join us.

First to declare herself with frustrating inevitability was Sister Nightingale. She hadn't really left my side since we had arrived, but did not seem interested in helping us along until I started pulling some interesting devices out. We'll get to those, but she wanted to make a full report to her superiors. I had no problem with that. I wanted to intimidate the powers-that-be, and I could tell she would be as useful as Tam and Ciara. She carried similar weapons and carried herself like a veteran. In truth, she was far more deadly than either of them, at least at that moment, but when you've walked through a Blight and faced an Archdemon...

The next person to wander into our circle of wagons was very surprising. Leha trotted in with a grim face, wearing chainmail, a sword on her belt, and hefting a crossbow over her shoulder. After a few threats of blackmail and withdrawing her services, I gave in to her request to join us. She wanted to keep me nearby, to watch me, albeit for different reasons than the Sister did. The unintended revelation that I wasn't born of Thedas had made an impression. There would be consequences to that, but for the moment, she was quietly assessing if it was true or not. What we would do was confirmation enough for anyone, I think.

There was another who would tag along without our knowledge, but that grinning idiot was nowhere to be found as we moved out as the sky darkened. Sister Nightingale kindly informed us that the Templars took their evening meal at a certain time after sunset. As that moment approached, we skulked out from the treeline and made our way to the right of the walls until we met the rock in front of us. It was the surprisingly gentle slope that made its way up until it met the wall near the arrowslit of the far tower. I made sure we could actually make it, standing myself up on the stone awkwardly. It was difficult but far from impossible, even with the weight we were carrying.

Only one thing left to do before the hike.

"Batallion, sound off," I said in Orlesian over the radio. I needed to know if everyone else was in place.

One by one, the platoons sounded off in order of precedence. Red, Gold, Blue, Green, all standing by, ready to move when I gave the order. Red Platoon under the command of Sergeant Mike were _les Enfants Perdus_ , the forlorn hope, and I had given her our blue banner to carry in the hope that it would give them the extra confidence to commit everything to the charge. I detected no wavering in the voices of any of my subordinates. If anything, Soprano sounded positively eager, and McNulty as jaded as ever. Any doubts that I had failed in my preparations disappeared, and I gathered my team around for a final chat.

"Alright, like we discussed," I said, "We're going up, through that tower, along the wall to the gatehouse. No speaking unless absolutely necessary. I'll be relying on you guys to do the ugly stuff until we get there or until we're discovered. Any questions?"

Ciara put her hand up, something she learned from watching Tam's schoolkids no doubt. With a smirk, I nodded to her.

"What do we do if we are discovered?" she asked.

"Assuming we can't get to the gatehouse, we kill our way to the mines and release the mages," I replied, "Best pray they're strong enough to help us." I had no doubt we could make it that far if it came to it, but getting out afterwards would very much depend on how lively the mages were. It was a messy Plan B, and one I hoped to avoid. One that would have failed.

"Can we get climbing?" Leha asked impatiently, "Standing around here is giving me a bad feeling."

"One thing," Tam said.

The Qunari grabbed me and pushed her lips against mine. I was entirely unprepared, so it was awkward as hell, but filled me with the familiar warm feeling nonetheless. Part of me wished she hadn't. Kisses for luck were often bad luck, in my experience. We parted and she turned, taking the lead on the narrow escarpment. Given her distrust of mages, one might have thought she would be less eager to get into a fight to free them, but I think she was doing it for me. I'm glad she had that level of trust in me.

Leha followed her up next, scrambling over the waist height stone that met the patchy grass under us and keeping her crossbow at the ready with one hand. It was as I watched her exertions that I noticed the look that the Sister was giving me. I could tell it was about Tam and I. It was apparently an unusual arrangement even without Julie's domineering presence.

"Is there something wrong, Sister?" I asked flatly, somewhat irritated by her curiosity on the subject.

"Nothing at all, Marquis," she replied, "You managed to surprise me. Not many can do that." The spymaster stepped forwards and fell in behind Leha, leaving Ciara and myself behind with an air of complete superiority, leaving me unsure whether she approved or disapproved of what had just happened.

Ciara shook her head.

"You need to watch that shem, Sam," she said, her lyrical accented deepened with warning, "I get this feeling when I'm near her, like she could kill you with her shadow." I hmmed my agreement with that.

We began climbing, Ciara taking the rear.

It was hard going. The rock had gathered the rain in some places, and was loose in others. As we climbed higher, the wind picked up and the water turned to ice. I had to pick every footfall with absolute precision to avoid falling, sometimes crawling along on my stomach to get over obstacles that regularly stuck out of the face of the stone. It was miserable and cold, but we were getting the drop on our opponents. At intervals, I called a halt quietly and inspected the walls. The guards were either distracted or looking out into the night, not up at the mountain.

All went smoothly until we came close to the tower.

It was Leha who gave us the first real hiccup. The path, if you could call it that, narrowed even more as we approached the meeting point of the tower and the rock. Worse, the ground was loose, full of pebbles worn down by freeze-thaw from further above. Leha, still holding her crossbow, wasn't using both her hands to cling to the sides, and the act of doing so unbalanced her.

She slipped and fell, grabbing the edge with her one free hand and thus saving her own life. I winced as I watched Tam pull the dwarf back up. The damage had already been done. A large number of stones fell with her, knocking loudly against the cliff and coming to a halt on the ground with harsh cracking sounds. My eyes tracked immediately to the nearest guard. We were close enough that binoculars were unnecessary.

Time seemed to slow as the man turned about, his tabard emblazoned with the flaming sword of his order clearly visible now. He was armed with a bow, and was protected by chainmail and a helmet. His eyes met mine. My hands moved automatically to my weapon. I could tell I wouldn't make it in time. The guard's mouth opened to shout the alarm.

An white fletched arrow zipped into his throat, sticking there.

The bowman collapsed, clutching the bloody mess under his chin, dropping his weapon. He began gurgling, which made me sick to my stomach. Yet I felt relieved at the same time. Our cover was intact, as far as I could tell. I looked around to see which of my companions had shot the arrow. I found Sister Nightingale putting her short composite bow away, grim satisfaction on her face. I have to admit that this was the moment I began to respect her. She had acted with complete grace and without hesitation to save us all. I told her this in later years, and all she did in reply was smile. Alas, at the time, we didn't have time for pleasantries like that.

I signalled Tam to scale the six feet to the top of the tower ahead, and she gave me a thumbs up before moving the last thirty metres along the cliff to carry out my command. She pulled herself up with no trouble at all, lifted each of us by the hand up and over. We were in, to my immense happiness. Now it was time to fight.

"Weapons out, kill anyone who gets in our way," I ordered, before pulling out what I had selected for the job. It was a shotgun, a smoothbore firelance that could fire solid slugs or buckshot similar to what you might see from a Qunari swivelgun. An up close and personal weapon.

I covered the hatch to the tower itself, while Tam opened it. It was empty, save for a table with some food on it and a chair by the arrowslit. No surprises. Things were looking up.

I climbed down the ladder first, and gingerly opened the door to the wall. Torches and oil lamps stood in between the crenellations, putting a little light onto the battlements, but otherwise it was very dark. There was no sign of any other guards in the space to the next tower, which I was glad for. None except the cooling corpse of the one that the Sister had shot, anyway. Unlucky bastard.

"We're clear to the next tower," I said, "Let's go."

I led the way across at a casual pace, so as not to draw any eyes in the prison square below. The buildings were clustered at the other end of the compound, which is why I chose that part of the wall to assault. Less chance of someone raising the alarm from the habitations. We soon came to the door. I could hear someone talking inside, which complicated things. I had only seen one guard.

As I decided what to do, Leha stepped forwards. I almost shouted at her to stop, but managed to restrain myself in time. She knocked on the door loudly, and drew her sword. The rest of us scrambled to cover her, as footsteps approached.

"Gambon, you better not be asking for more ale," said a gruff voice beyond, "You've had your ration already." Leha didn't respond, but just knocked harder. I got what she was trying to do immediately and moved to assist.

A heavy sigh rumbled from behind the door, and after some fiddling with locks, the door itself swung outwards. A man in plate armour appeared, sword sheathed and looking annoyed, his helmet off. Leha pounced, slashing her sword across the man's face. With impressive speed, no less. Unfortunately, the blow wasn't lethal. With a hiss of pain, he stumbled back into the room behind. Knowing I had seconds before he'd raise the alarm, I panicked and rushed forwards to deliver a savage kick to his knee.

He dropped to his thighs and attempted to get his sword out. It was too late. Leha turned her sword, and stabbed it downward into his collar with both hands. Withdrawing it, blood sprouted from the Templar's mouth and he dropped to the floor, very dead indeed. I grimaced at the sight. Seeing men blown apart was brutal, but there is always something primal about melee combat that shakes the mind. The dwarf wiped her blade clean on the man's clothes.

"Where did you learn to do that?" asked Tam, rather fairly I thought, "You've never expressed any interest in fighting before." Leha was supposed to be a merchant, after all. Fighting was unprofitable, as the woman herself was so fond of saying.

"I wasn't born a trader," the dwarf replied with a tinge of anger, "This sort of thing is why I became one." Also a fair statement. I became as interested in her history as much as she was with mine. I guess we were both learning each other's true nature. I pat her on the shoulder, understanding what she meant entirely. I had originally mustered out of my nation's army for a similar enough reason. Despite being smart enough for other things, I never was any good at anything else. Which is why I went back to it.

Ciara went to the door opposite, and managed to get it open with a little trouble. We continued along the wall a little more quickly, not speaking a word but all understanding that the danger that someone had heard us was greater now. Despite those fears, we made it along to the opening to the gatehouse without incident. Unfortunately, there was no door. I leaned against the wall beside to listen. There was a ruckus inside, metal moving on stone and shuffling feet.

"Who are they?" asked a voice worriedly, "And why are they here?"

"Seems to be elves, but they're not like any Dalish I've ever seen," said a female voice with far more confidence, "They definitely are waiting to attack us, they are positioned to move on the gate."

"Do they have battering rams?" the worried one continued, "Or Maker help us, ladders? Chasind raiders I could deal with, but an army of mystery elves? This is too much."

"Calm yourself, Templar. Remember who you are," the assured one commanded, her Fereldan accent more pronounced, "Go fetch the Knight-Captain, he'll want to see this for himself."

They were speaking about my soldiers laying in wait. We had been spotted, though how we had been was a mystery. Still, with the assault troops discovered, I had to act fast. Flicking the safety off my shotgun again, I swung through the opening to the room and levelled it at the two guards. The others followed me in, bows out and in Leha's case, crossbow drawn and ready to shoot.

The two templars nearly jumped out of their skins when we appeared. The gatehouse towers were joined together at this level to create a single gallery, open to the air. The pair were wearing the same plate armour as the guard Leha had put down, and their swords were already out. I guess keeping them in their scabbards seemed like a bad idea with an army on the doorstep.

"Good evening," I growled through a smile, "The Knight-Captain doesn't need to know shit." To say they were taken aback was a huge exaggeration. They were utterly stupefied.

"Drop your weapons," Tam commanded.

"Or we drop you," Leha added, wiggling her crossbow slightly.

I had hoped that the worried one would surrender at the very least. He was obviously a freshly-minted Templar. He looked as young as Ciara, barely able to grow face-fuzz. Maybe he was. It didn't matter, because his female superior was clearly long in the tooth, an old hand at the wheel. The Sister would later confide that this was a survivor from Kirkwall, which probably explains the zealotry we were about to witness. The senior Templar laughed her ass off at us, like we were comedians. It pissed me right off. Then she brought her swordpoint to shoulder height and charged.

Charged at me no less, most likely because that path put me between her and Leha's crossbow. The fact that my weapon was entirely alien to her probably was a factor too, but it was far from alien to me. Her plate armour extended only to the middle of her belly, and might have protected her from a lethal hit of the buckshot if it had extended further. Except it didn't and I took aim appropriately. A bloody rose of a wound erupted from her pelvis section following the deep boom-flash of my shotgun. She tumbled to the ground yards from my feet.

The young one had followed her lead, swinging the sword about his head and screaming as he came on. Tam, Ciara, Leha and Sister Nightingale had plenty of warning. They filled him with shot. Tam's distinctive black fletched arrow pierced an eye. Ciara's white feathered arrow managed to penetrate his chestplate, her investment in better arrows not wasted. Leha's crossbow bolt followed my lead and buried itself in his gut. The Sister's more ornate arrow struck under his sword arm. The boy stopped in his tracks, but managed to stay standing for a few seconds, letting out a ghastly moan and falling backwards when his strength failed him.

I dismissed the two as gone, having no good or bad feelings about their deaths whatsoever. They were in the way, they had the choice to get out of the way, they failed to take it. Their deaths were on their hands. Brutal by the standards of my home, but positively generous by Thedosian morals.

"Tam, Ciara, guard the other opening," I said, tossing the only torch in the room into a bucket of water. The room went dark, some moonlight from the openings being the only illumination.

The Qunari and the Dalish slung their bows and drew their daggers, and took up a side of the doorway each. They knew the drill. The Templars in the tower opposite undoubtedly heard the noise, whether it was the shotgun blast, the shouting or the scream. A quick check of the buildings told me that the Templars eating in the large mess hall had not heard it.

I also discovered how the Templars had been able to spot our people in the forest.

"It's a telescope," I said, approaching it.

"Not for stargazing, Marquis," the Sister replied, "It's a night glass from the University of Orlais... though how one came to be here, I do not know." The Templars had friends in academic circles. I looked through the eyepiece to see what the enemy had, and sure enough, Soprano and her skirmishers could be seen in the trees in just enough detail to be noticeable. It intrigued me, and although we had work to do, my mind turned to another task.

"Leha, is this worth anything?" I asked. The dwarf looked at the piece for less than a second.

"More than a few sovereigns," she said, "Plenty of nobles like to watch wildlife at night. Or hunt." I smiled as I smelled an opportunity.

"Take it and put it in the tower we came through," I said, "No need to destroy it with the building. The rest of you, hand over your satchels." Our gambit was explosives. Powerful, remotely detonated, plastic explosives. I had brought no small amount either, knowing how to make more being the reason for my enthusiasm in using it. The formula was valuable enough for dozens of spies to have died attempting to obtain it in the years since. Good thing they don't know that more simple recipes exist, albeit more dangerous ones. The group threw the bags to me, most of them entirely unaware of what they had been carrying.

As I prepared the charges, two Templars made the bad decision of storming through from the wall on the opposite side to our entry point. They were dealt with swiftly.

Tam clotheslined the first with her curved dagger, partially decapitating the man. That was quiet. Ciara grabbed the back of the other's armour and drove her straight blade into his lower back for the kidneys. That was very far from quiet.

A blood-curdling screech, louder than anything else I had heard from a human being thus far, was the result.

My fears jumped to the front of my mind, and I was forced to over to the edge of the gallery on the inside. Sure enough, doors were opening on the large mess building and Templars wandering outside onto the flagstones to see what the fuss was. My blood rose in every part of my body. The screwing around stage had ended.

"We don't have much time," I said, "All of you go back to the other tower, now!"

No one questioned or complained. They could see the dozen Templars approaching as well, and that number seemed to be increasing. Leha picked up the night glass, and was escorted out by the others, their bows nocked and ready to draw. I knew they'd be spotted, but that they'd be safe in the next tower. Less entrances to defend over there.

I threw two satchels to the bottom of each of the gatehouse's towers, through the ladder hatches. The fifth and final charge I placed on the top of the closed portcullis. Satisfied we could make a big enough hole in the place to get in without trouble, I turned around to join the others only to find a spectacular sight.

A Templar was charging at me, and he was engulfed in flames. I scrambled backwards, as he came on, two short swords raised to stab into me. In my shock, I dove away, but managed to kick out upon landing. The man went sprawling onto the floor, still on fire.

His roars of pain and anger continued as he stood up. My own reason began to assert itself in the time I had won. How had he gotten so close without my noticing? More importantly, why in the name of God was he on fire? I asked myself these questions as I reached for my handcannon to end him. Someone beat me to it.

A lightning bolt flew from beyond the doorway and into the burning Templar, near blinding and deafening me with the light and boom in the enclosed space. I cursed to myself, blinking away afterimages of the sight through my pain. I knew who was responsible.

"Armen!" I shouted, "What the fuck are you doing here?!"

The mage entered the room, stepped over the thoroughly deceased assassin, his spear-like staff recovered from some place. No smile either. He was all business, when it came to the Rebellion. I'm not sure there is a word to describe exactly how annoyed I was.

"I wondered where the hell you had disappeared to," I said, "Don't tell me you were with us the whole time." His emotional state around this prison was bound to be entirely out of whack. I had intended to order him to stay put. He had known that, and whipped up some magical crap to make himself see-through or some crap, I suspected. I was dead on.

"Leha never struck me as the warrior type," Armen mused, "But is now really the best time to chastise me?" He flicked his head back towards the courtyard beyond the wall.

There were now dozens of Templars below, some distance off and still gathered near the mess hall, but all looking up our way. Their commander was no idiot. The walls were lost for all they knew, so they were massing their troops to retake them. It would be less than a minute before they'd be ready, I guessed. The notion of them charging from every direction wasn't what scared me. The Templars having some understanding of what I was trying to accomplish on the other hand did. The random bags laying around the bottom of the towers might have given them some indication.

"With me," I growled at Armen, "NOW!" I grabbed his robes and shoved him out onto the wall again. We began to run, and that really got the attention of the enemy. Arrows began whistling by, and the sound of shouting followed behind them. I didn't want to look back, I just kept moving Armen along with shouting and pushing.

The others appeared at the top of the tower, and began shooting back at the archers, but the arrows kept getting thicker, bouncing off the wall in front of us. I wasn't sure if I was going to make it, particularly with that plodding elf mage in front of me. He realised it too.

About half way, Armen stopped in his tracks and spun on his heels, bringing his staff up. After a quick spin to collect power, he slammed the butt of the thing onto the wall and brilliant white light poured out from it as I passed him. The arrows stopped immediately, as it directed itself at those who were throwing them our way. They curled over, trying to get out of the light, much to my amusement. We jogged the rest of the way across the wall. By the time they had all recovered and had resumed the pursuit, we through the tower door. Whatever I might say, magic is useful.

I peered through a crack in the door. They were running across the huge courtyard towards us from the far end, but they couldn't have known the danger. I felt a sort of anticipation as I watched, waiting for the shoe to drop but knowing it never would for them. I was ready when they ran by and through where we had just been.

"Fire in the hole," I said softly to myself, before depressing the radio trigger.

* * *

The explosion thudded loudly against the tower and threw stones against the door, breaking it in several places. The walls and floor shook violently, throwing Armen to his knees and sending me clinging to the wall. Composition Four's first introduction to Thedas was quite an event, to say the least. Chemistry is more useful.

Wanting to see if the Templars had been caught by the shockwave, I knocked aside the remains of the door. I immediately began coughing, as fine dust wafted into the air like a thick fog. The explosives had pulverised part of the tower's stone and mortar into the aerosol form that stuck to everything. I needed to know if the way was open, and whether or not the Templars had been stopped. Spluttering, I donned my thermal imaging equipment.

The heat silhouettes of at least fifty men and women appeared some distance away, sprawled out on the ground either dead or badly injured. Twice as many again were picking themselves up or huddled in fear, not understanding just what had happened. Unfortunately, I couldn't tell if the gate had been breached. Considering that my soldiers had orders to advance as soon as it was, this wasn't the most encouraging development. I turned to find the others climbing down the ladder from above in a daze.

"Did any of you see if the gate is down?" I asked, not thinking about the effects.

Sister Nightingale and Leha simply stared. The former like one studies a psychopath, the latter like one seeing a ghost for the first time. I was about to snap at the pair of them. We didn't have time for either of it, and I wanted a damned answer. Luckily, Tam and Ciara were on hand and familiar with my methods, if still a little out of it.

"Too much smoke," Tam replied, "Couldn't see through."

"It would be strange if it is still standing," said Ciara, waving dust away from her, "I think some of the roof tiles are on the moons." The explosion from the satchel I left by the top level certainly would have done something like that. Not literally of course, but the gatehouse roof would have been the first thing to go. I sighed and kicked open the hatch to the ground floor. The next phase began regardless, and there was nothing for it but to continue as planned.

We climbed down the ladder and went into the courtyard. Tam and Ciara walked parallel to me with their bows ready, and Leha copied them. They paid attention to the training I had given the others, evidently. The Sister and Armen hung around behind. I think that pretty much sums up our whole relationship with the Chantry in the years to come. We do the hard fighting, they hang around in the back. Not that this was improper, Chantry goons can't fight for shit. Well, Sister Nightingale and Seeker Pentaghast could, at least.

We advanced slowly across the open space, which was littered with building debris. The dust was clearing now, which I had mixed feelings about. While I was cheered to see that the gatehouse was not only destroyed but obliterated, the Templars appeared to have recovered their wits and were gathering to attack us. I noted the time. There was still enough of it for us to get disembowelled.

"Parlay!" I shouted, "I wish to parlay!" I had no idea if it would work, but I thought it a good bet. This might strike you as absurd, but keep in mind that I had just destroyed an fortification effectively with a click of my fingers, and the living Templars had no idea about what would happen next if they delayed. My companions seemed to understand, at least. There were no queries as to why I'd give the Templars time to form ranks.

The enemy stopped about thirty or forty yards ahead of us. If I had to guess, maybe only half their strength was present and still standing. Many weren't fully armoured either, and very few had the customary plate armour on. Wearing it at dinner when the mages were safely locked away would have been impractical. Which was perfect news for us, if we'd survive the next few minutes. I let myself believe we would, simply because I didn't like the alternative.

One of them stepped forward and took off his helmet, revealing a scarred face and long hair, the torchlight increasing the visual effect of both. I could tell he had earned his place.

"I am Knight-Captain Denam," he said, authority dripping off every word, "To whom am I speaking and by what right do you attack a fortress of the Templar Order?"

Giving away information like who I was would have been idiotic. For all I knew, someone would survive, hide and report my every word. There was no problem answering the second question though, even if the asker would not understand its answer.

"Under the articles of United Nations Resolution 2249, all peacekeepers of the UNSIFOR are to prevent genocide, crimes against humanity, and war crimes. I am allowed to use all appropriate and proportionate force to do so." Utter gibberish to practically anyone in Thedas, except for Julie. Denam treated it as such too, his face curling with anger. He seemed to fume for a whole minute or two. That was very satisfying, to say the least.

"You attack us, have your pet mage use some foul magic to blast your way in, demand to speak with us... And that is all you have to say?!" he roared, "If you could repeat that trick, you would have already. Throw down your weapons or there will be no mercy, you're outnumbered!" Touchy touchy. A quick look at my watch to make sure I wouldn't seem foolish, and I delivered the punchline.

"You know, that is funny," I said, pouring swagger into my voice as much as I could, "I was about to say the same thing to you."

Right on schedule, the sound of moving feet in the hundreds began rumbling through the air. The Templars paused their giving me the evil eye. They began looking around and at each other. All eyes turned to a new sight. You couldn't help it.

Lit up by torches, Mike stood atop the rubble of the gatehouse, our flag high and caught by the breeze.

Behind her was McNulty and Soprano, followed by their companies. The Templars rippled with panic as my troops calmly marched off the heap and formed lines in a crescent shape around them. The shields were placed down and the crossbows levelled across them. I think my own people were surprised at just how few of the Templars had been gathered. There were others standing about the place in other parts of the compound, I could see, but they were backing away from joining the bloc of their fellows. I felt triumphant.

"What is this!" Denam hollered, "What have you done!"

"Kill them until they give up," I ordered by radio, loudly enough for anyone to hear.

"Yes, Marquis," said McNulty and Soprano together.

A drum beat the advance, and a hundred crossbows strung bolts out into the Templars. The sound of the hits was disturbingly like the patter of rain on the ground, a sort of wet noise. Only about twenty of those that took one went down dead, but about half were wounded. The Templars responded in the way typical of Thedosian militaries, an ragged, undisciplined charge, with no formation or cohesion whatsoever. My people were already switching over to swords and forming the defensive shieldwall. I didn't worry about them, they'd put the enemy to the sword with ease now that they were in the most advantageous situation. No tricks, no mages, no mercy.

A good twenty of the Templars came charging at us. With utter contempt on my face, I sent a couple of barks from my shotgun their way. Tam and Ciara added a volley of arrows for good measure, backed up immediately afterwards by Leha and the Sister. To my relief, it sent them scurrying away. Denam too, the bastard, managed to escape despite catching a crossbow bolt to the arm. They ran to join the general brawl or to the buildings, away from us. The temptation to follow and finish them off burrowed itself in my head, but I dug it out. We had more important business to attend to.

"Sister Nightingale, Where are the mages?" I said, "Our troops have this under control." Another understatement on my part. The fanaticism of the Templars was being met with cold discipline, and it was working. By now, two or even three of mine were laying into one Templar each, with swords and bolts. Soprano's skirmishers had managed to get up on the walls too, plucking arrows from their nests and putting them into those Templars that weren't as enthusiastic to close in.

"This way," the Sister said, before sprinting off towards the rock face about two hundred yards away. I ran after her as best I could, though I was much more burdened. Armen ran alongside me, his face stony and his expression utterly hardened. We ran past the edge of the buildings and to the mine entrances I had seen before. That's when we saw them.

Templars were banging batons and maces off the metal bars, trying to get the mages to back off. More interesting was how exactly they were keeping order among people who could burn them alive by thinking it. There were ripples like waves through the air, as they suppressed the magic. Not that I cared much, because there was another thing to see. Far more horrifying.

The mages were emaciated, walking bags of bones, barely alive. They huddled at the cage entrances, clinging to the bars, watching the action beyond with confusion or hope. It was hard to tell how many there were, they were packed so tightly in. Children as young as ten poked their heads out through the bars to see. Rage consumed me. I stepped forward to … deal with the guards.

Armen beat me to it. He ran at full pace, past the stunned Sister Nightingale, a bubble of fire expanding at the top of his staff with his every stride. I called out for him to stop, as did the others, but to no avail. I thought he'd incinerate the Templars, the mages, the whole side of the mountain if he didn't control himself.

The Templars themselves didn't even blink. Moving in unison for the first time, they placed the tip of their swords on the ground and chanted something unintelligible to me. In a second, the fireball winked out of existence, as if it had never been there at all. I had to blink twice to make sure what I had seen had actually happened. The Templars were no small threat to mages. Until this point, I had thought they were simply naturally resistant, like myself but less potently so. They were, of course, but they also possessed the ability to reinforce reality against manipulation by the Fade.

Armen stopped dead, almost falling over, before running back to us as the Templars chased him. It would have been comical, if it wasn't for the utter hatred in the eyes of the men and women doing the chasing. It goes almost without saying, like many of the others, I didn't have much moral qualms about cutting them down. Sister Nightingale didn't either, getting to grips with the first one using her daggers. Neck, gut, armpit, the daggers plunged into any poorly armoured part of the man. The danger her presence possessed came out into the light.

Tam hacked one to death with brutal swings of her longsword, while Leha and I dispatched two others. I shot mine in the chest, and the woman's chainmail was far from adequate enough to stop a door-breaching slug round. There was an audible crunch as her ribs cracked. I caught her right in the sternum. A real 'yeesh' moment, particularly as the last Templar threw down his sword and surrendered. I would have been tempted to in his shoes.

We all calmed down a bit at the gesture, like a switch was turned. I looked about, and seeing no other plate-armoured zealots around, I motioned for Tam and Armen to start cracking open the cages. They did so with enthusiasm with the Sister in tow, while Ciara and Leha covered our new prisoner.

"You're surrendering?" I asked, sure it was a trick to put a hidden blade into one of us.

"My death will not stop you freeing the mages," the Templar conceded, "Besides... just looking at them makes me feel sick. This is not why I joined the Order." The man's face was almost impossible to read with his helmet on, but the accent was definitely not Orlesian. I had just met my first Fereldan. Unable to make the judgment, I turned to someone I knew would have his measure.

"Sister, is he telling the truth?" I asked.

"I say we stick him in the cage and lock the door," Ciara interrupted, "Who cares if he's telling the truth!" It was an option, at least.

"He's laid down arms," Leha retorted, "Wouldn't be right." Ciara huffed in response, before meeting the Nightingale's eyes and stopping.

"He is being truthful," the Sister replied, "I think I know who he is... Templar, remove your helmet!" Her command was followed immediately, her voice being one that demanded obedience.

The Templar had a dark complexion, but honest eyes. Handsome bastard too. Defused my killing instinct completely, though I knew that wouldn't save him from Armen. However, something did occur to me. I didn't know anywhere enough about the enemy I was to fight. There was yet another opportunity here.

"You are Delrin Barris, are you not?" the Sister continued, "I have heard of your exploits. Why are you in Orlais?" He was quite famous among the nobility, apparently. Some story about defeating demons on a mountaintop. Considering I could go do that twelve times a day before breakfast, I never was very impressed with such stories. I was privileged in that respect, I guess.

"Fifty Templars from Ferelden were moved here, they thought we'd be less sympathetic to the Orlesian mages," Delrin replied, "They were mostly right." His eyes tracked to the mages now being let out of the cages. They were full of sorrow. I knew then I couldn't just kill him, even if he wasn't useful. Besides, it would have been against my oath. Executing him would have required taking off the blue beret. I ordered Ciara to watch him, as my earpiece crackled to life.

"Marquis, all enemies eliminated," Soprano reported by radio. My heart lifted slightly. Victory was ours, but what I had found made me sick. It was little wonder that Armen was so determined, and I appreciated that with a new zeal.

"How many prisoners?" I asked, "Did you get the Knight-Captain?" I would have liked to send Denam to hell personally. After a trial, of course.

"No prisoners, they attempted to regroup and attack," she replied, almost proud of the fact, "Not sure if we killed anyone of rank, Marquis. My apologies." Inevitable really, given the nature of the fight. Her cheerful tone told me that no one had died on our side, at least not yet. Thankfully, Armen was on hand for healing purposes. If he could calm down for five minutes to produce the magical effect necessary.

"That's alright, Captain, you did as I commanded," I said with a sigh, "Bring the wounded to the Templars' quarters. We'll treat them there." There was to be no shortage of medical care required, as I would learn, but no one died. Something I considered a miracle in the most literal sense of the word.

"Looks like we won," Tam commented, slapping me on the shoulder, "Didn't think we would."

"Your vote of confidence is always appreciated," I replied sarcastically, "Let's get these mages fed. Go find the larders."

* * *

 _AUTHOR'S NOTE: BIG chapter. Well, we're really moving along now. I'll probably have to edit this slightly as I re-read it some more and catch more of the mistakes, but I really wanted to get this out before New Year's Eve. So I did.  
_

 _Also, I've added yet another fiction to my repetoire, a Bioshock-Alien crossover. It'll be sporadically updated, the chapters are short and snappy, but I thought I should give it a little light. Shouldn't affect this at all, nor the BF2183 stories._

 _Enjoy._

 _ **Knives91:** Leelu can handle it though. _

_**5 Coloured Walker:** I explained in a message, but just in case others didn't get it... _

_In the canon, the Divine is trying desperately to prevent the Mage-Templar conflict from turning into a full blown war in the aftermath of Kirkwall and DA2's events. The Libertarian faction, calling themselves the Rebellion in radical circles in this canon, have yet to win the vote among mages to separate. So, it figures that the Divine and the mages would cooperate to make sure the Templars wouldn't try to escalate things themselves and to protect mage lives._

 _Enter Sam. He sets off an alarm early, without any attempt by the Templars to actually annul the Circle at Halamshiral. This throws a wrench into the whole warning system, and ratchets up tensions with the Templars fourfold. The Divine, unsure what has happened, sends Leliana to investigate._

 _Leliana tracks down Armen, and he cooperates under duress, telling her the full story in the knowledge that she's not someone to fuck with. She doesn't believe him, he invites her to Hearth to meet Sam. Voila._

 _ **Drygen:** Leha's a fairly important character. You'll see more of her._

 _ **Asahar:** No problem lad._

 _ **Tactus501st:** Cheers!_

 _ **Comavampure:** Leliana is one of my favourite characters, I'm glad you're of the opinion that I did her justice._

 _ **Writer's Block:** That's the whole point. The Divine will be informed. It would be a bit ridiculous to expect Leliana to keep the secret. More threads to spin, you see._

 _ **Azariah Kyras:** Thank you very much, spread the word. _

_I tend to gloss over stuff I think would be boring, or less relevant to the overall plot. Training montages for soldiers bore the head off of me, for instance, so we got to see less of Soprano and McNulty than I might like, but their prologues were sacrificed to the plot gods. They have plenty in the next chapter though, so no worries._

 _TLDR: Characters will get development as they get more relevant to the plot._


	21. Chapter 21: Common Sense

**Chapter Twenty-One: Common Sense**

To those reading in the distant future, or those who don't follow history, it may appear at this point that I was by far the most prominent person in our little project. This is far from true. I was and remain a great soldier, an average general with access to technology above anything in Thedas, but a terrible politician, despite having studied politics in academia. I suspect many of you have guessed this from my intention to invite the mages to L'Ambassade. It seems like such a bad move to anyone from Thedas. Perhaps that is why Sister Nightingale allowed me to proceed.

The mages' arrival marks the moment when the people who would actually decide the course of events began to assert themselves, namely Julie Marteau and Tam. If this is the Peacekeeper's Tale, they are more responsible than anyone else for enabling what I did to come to pass. The others played their part, of course. The catalyst was the mages themselves.

We spent the night in the Wolf's Lair, sleeping in the beds of the Templars we had killed. There seemed to be far more beds than Templars, incidentally, which probably said quite a bit about the situation they found themselves in. No one was much in the mood for conversation. I was tired, as was Tam. Leha was brooding over my real identity and what would happen next. Armen was sequestered with the mages, healing them and my injured soldiers. McNulty was drunk with his circle of close underlings. Soprano was silent in a corner, a frown on her face. Sister Nightingale scribbled furiously in candlelight, next to a stack of cages with the ugliest and largest black crows I had ever seen. So, I went to sleep and awoke late the next morning very refreshed.

A change of clothes from my Earth combat uniform to the new stuff from Thedas was the first order of the day. I didn't want to intimidate anyone too much, so I wore only a handcannon, my composite vest and my beret over them. I had slept in the Commander's quarters, and had a small search of it. Plenty of documents, none of which I could read well, and a small chest of money. I tucked the latter under my arm and left the room for the mess hall in good spirits.

Gold is a strange thing. I had never seen much of it before on Earth, our currencies aren't made of gold anymore, but by this point I began to understand why they used to be. I decided to share the good spirits.

I weaved through the buildings, some with tired looking soldiers in their doorways. Much of the night had been spent moving Templar bodies and collecting weapons. We hadn't burned them yet, simply piled them in the mines and locked the gates. The drinking started soon after that, along with bathing. The party atmosphere even spread to the mages, who proceeded to eat up as much of the Templars' food as possible. Nothing quite like seeing twelve year olds drinking ale. In retrospect, that such a thing happened at all was a testament to the faith put in me by my fighting men and women. Their accommodation of the mages was stunningly fast. Not everyone would be as tolerant in the days to come.

So, with a good night's rest behind me, a victory under my belt that had cost me no lives, a full belly and a warm atmosphere, who better to dampen my mood than Sister Nightingale? I turned a corner and into view of the mess hall entrance, and found her staking out the place with three mages. Two humans and one elf. Not wanting to deal with the Chantry spy without backup from Tam or Ciara, I prepared to about face and escape. However, I spotted the other member of their party. Delrin Barris. Who should have been under armed guard in a cellar, but the Templar was inexplicably without escort and his hands weren't tied. I called for Tam over the radio.

"Marquis, a moment of your time," the Sister said, as she paced towards me intently. Wanting to groan inwardly, I simply put on my best interested face and tried not to be short with her in light of her breaking a prisoner out.

"Certainly, Sister Nightingale," I replied with no small degree of false politeness, which had the dignifying effect of taking her aback. Hilarious.

"I thought you would like to meet the leadership of the mages, and talk over their decision," the Sister replied, suppressing any retort with complete ease, "The senior enchanters talked throughout the night on the subject."

This confused me. "Their decision? I thought we had already made the decision," I said, "The mages aren't going with you and that's final. This better not be why the Templar is out of his chains." My eyes flickered to the man in question for a moment. He seemed unperturbed that I wanted him detained.

"Whether or not we go with you is not your choice to make, Marquis," said the eldest of the mages. She had a strange accent, familiar enough to me as one from a country on Earth. Her words were not pleasing to me however, however familiar an accent they were said in.

"It seems to me like it is," I retorted, advancing towards them, "Without me, you'd be rotting in that cage or dead, and I can't give you leave to go elsewhere as you might spread word of my capabilities." The ones they knew about, anyway. I needed the mages to back me up when the Templars or anyone else came knocking, as they almost certainly would now. The mages themselves clearly needed protection too. Their complete lack of grace after being rescued was infuriating.

The Sister stepped forwards between us.

"Perhaps we have gotten off on the wrong foot," she said in a conciliatory tone, "They do not intend to bring harm to you. A round of introductions is in order." Her eyes locked with mine, pleading with me. Defused entirely, I blew an exasperated sigh out of my lips and backed off a step. Bloody Orlesian bards.

"Marquis, may I present Velarana of the Aequitarians, Adam Valle of the Lucrosians and Valeria Marable of the Isolationists," the Sister said, "Enchanters, this Samuel Hunt, Marquis de la Fayette and Peacekeeper of the United Nations." Velarana was a relatively young elf woman with short blonde hair and sharp eyes. She struck me as too smart by half. Valle was a middle-aged man with brown hair and beard with grey highlights. An insurance salesman was what came to mind when I examined him... not that it means anything here. Valeria Marable was a woman in her sixties, with soft eyes, though she had already demonstrated that she had a sharp tongue. All three wore the robes of the Circle, with differences in colour and jewelry between them but the common themes were obvious.

Annoyed that she had let a hint of my true identity into my titles, I gave them a curt nod. Until I realised there was someone missing. Armen had not skimped on details where the Circles were concerned.

"Where is the leader of the Libertarians?" I asked, "Dead?"

"There are only a hundred mages affiliated with that fraternity here," Marable said with a sniff of disapproval, "Their senior enchanter was killed during the Sundering. They have already voted to appoint your man as their leader. He is a hero to them." My man meaning Armen. I smiled at that. He was wise far beyond his years, if a little impetuous. Goes to show that book-learning isn't wasted on everyone.

"As if his ego needed more of a boost," I said, "Well, now that we are introduced, care to explain why we're changing the plan, Sister?"

"It is simply a modification, Marquis," the Nightingale replied with a wave of her hand, "The isolationists do not wish to join you, nor will they return to the Circles." That got my curiosity up. What did they intend to do, hide in the forest? Apparently not.

"Why?" I asked, "Surely it would be better to come with me, or at least attempt to beg mercy from the church?" Eyebrows raised at the last word, as it was foreign to the world, but the meaning was understood. I turned to the mages themselves for the answer.

"We cannot return to the Circle, the Templars would not allow us," Marable stated, "We cannot go with you either."

"Am I that offensive?" I asked in jest, "Or does my breath smell?" It seemed like they were being unreasonable to me.

"Can you guarantee that we won't be forced to fight?" asked Marable, leaning on her plain staff.

I began to understand why her faction was called isolationist. They were pacifists who only wanted to be left alone, not just disinterested in the debate over mage freedom. "No," I conceded, "In fact, I can guarantee you will have to fight if you come with me."

"Then we shall stay here," Marable continued, "We will rebuild the gate and live here, where we won't bother anyone or be bothered by anyone. Four hundred of us and the children will stay." She was adamant that it would be the case. Displeased at the development, I did consider attempting to appeal directly to the mages under her. I remain sure to this day that I could have convinced many of them to come too. However, to bring the children did seem like a poor choice. There would be hard fighting to come in the spring.

"I understand," I said at last, "I will send supplies to get you through the winter." No point leaving them entirely alone to starve in the snows. I couldn't let myself do it anyway, starving children to spite pacifists.

Marable was taken aback, as were the others. Kindness to mages in this era was, after all, a rarity. I do believe I even managed to surprise the Nightingale, if only because she was a radical on the subject of mage freedom herself.

"That is very generous," the Sister said, "You don't need to."

"On the contrary," I replied immediately, "I do need to."

I held out my hand for Marable to shake, and the Isolationist took it gently. I smiled warmly at her, and got one in return. I stepped aside as she left the rest of us, probably to deliver the news to her people. At least I wouldn't have the children to worry about. I had doubts later, about the Templars coming back, but the Sister assured me that they wouldn't even bother coming back to the prison. They had started executing anyone who didn't comply immediately. They had too much else to worry about, including me.

"At least you two will be coming," I said as I returned my attention to the other leaders, "Or have I got the wrong impression?"

"No, we'll join you," said Velarana with a frown, "It seems that we are rebels now whether we like it or not." Truer words were never spoken. This made the second prison they had broken out of.

"We Lucrosians are not fighters by nature," Valle added rather pompously, "However, the Templars will not allow us to conduct our business any longer. We require protection in numbers."

Necessity was a good start to any relationship in my view, so I offered my hand to them as well. I got a reluctant shake from Valle, but a warm one from Velarana coupled with a smile. I was pleased to see that their opinions were so transparent, though I figured that it was likely they had no experience dissembling in the first place. Circle mages weren't exactly conversing regularly with the man on the street at this point in history.

Tam arrived just as we finished the gesture, looked around for less than a second, before grabbing Knight-Templar Barris by the scruff of his neck. Valle flinched and stepped back a couple of paces, while Velarana watched with a frown.

"What are you doing out of your cage?" Tam asked him, bringing up her dagger to wave in front of his face.

"Tam, ease off," I said softly, "He's no threat." Not sure what reaction I would get out of the mages, I decided that having Tam open his throat wasn't the most productive. The Sister evidently agreed.

"That is another matter we need to discuss," the Sister said in a soothing tone, before turning into a more commanding one, "The Templar will be going with you."

That pissed me off, and I turned to her quickly with a hard grimace on my face.

"Yeah lady, that was sorta the plan," I said flippantly, "He's going to answer for his part in this." I had the plan all laid out. Trial, sentencing, punishment, in that order. After I had him pumped for information, since he seemed at least a little sorry for all of it.

Sister Nightingale did not appreciate my flippancy one iota. When she spoke next, her tone was dripping with malice, her eyes sharper than before, and her posture hostile.

"He is going with you to help protect your people against the mages," she said, "To give them the confidence they need to accept their presence. Not to be executed at your whim."

"He's complicit with crimes against humanity," I replied coolly, "Nor are you in a position to give me orders." Her presumption had finally broken my patience. One person, however skilled, against my army or even myself alone was likely a dead one walking. I was getting the wrong end of the stick though.

"The Divine will need some sign that you are not an enemy of the Chantry," the Sister said, "If she does not receive word that you are willing to cooperate, she will direct the Seekrs and the Templars to direct you in force. Perhaps even with the help of Orlais. I have already sent word of your... abilities. You may be able to destroy armies, but you cannot destroy the Chantry or the Empire alone." All of which was true or likely to be true.

My calculations in my head against her assertions came up short, but my anger at her did not subside much. To be ordered around by the Divine in such a way was frustrating, though given that I had just been used in the greater conflict between the Templars, the Divine and the rebel mages, it is hardly surprising. Justinia was just some far off figure with power and no regard for the common person to me. How wrong I was.

"Can I speak?" Barris asked, standing up and shrugging off Tam's hand, though her dagger remained ready.

"Depends what you're going to say," I replied, crossing my arms.

"What we did here was wrong," the Templar said, "But I was only acting under orders. I would have been expelled from the Order or worse if I had defied the Knight-Captain." Nice try, but no joy. 'Acting under orders' was a line older than I was.

"The Nuremburg defence won't buy you any time from me," I snarled back, "More men than you know have hid behind the 'I was just following orders' line." I won't get into the crimes of the Nazis here, I have put that to paper elsewhere, most notably in _An Incomplete History of Earth_ , but rounding up people you don't like and abusing them does feature on the list. The Templars weren't quite at the same level. Yet. They hadn't graduated to outright genocide.

"Denam was a fanatic," the Sister interjected, attempting to placate me, "He's among the most zealous of the Knight-Captains." I didn't feel that was relevant. I just kept remembering my first sight of the mages behind the metal bars from the night before. My good mood had been utterly ruined as a result, as you can probably guess.

Tam sighed loudly, drawing the attention of us all. She stood up straight and away from Barris, and sheathed her dagger. "Sam, we should not fight the _bas_ Chantry," she said softly, "We have enough enemies. Even the Qun recognises when compromises must be made. Let the Templar come with us as a free man."

"Why?" I asked, "We're already in trouble with the Empire and your own people, why not add the Chantry to the list?"

"They're not my people any more," Tam responded, "You and Julie are, and I do not wish to see you harmed." A strange thing to say, considering that the three of us were the least likely to be harmed before we could either escape or kill an aggressor.

"I thought you were confident we could survive," I said, "What's changed?"

"Against almost anyone else, I am," Tam replied, before pointing at the Sister, "But against her? I think we'd lose."

I was intrigued. Nightingale was almost certainly the most dangerous person I had come across on Thedas so far, but not to the extent that I would have worried. My weapons and combat training were certainly better. There are more ways than I know to fight, however. I looked to the Sister, who was maintaining a neutral visage in the midst of the mages' confusion. Nothing to be read there.

"I could shoot her to pieces right now," I said, making sure to indicate via my tone that it wasn't my intention to do so, "She'd be unable to stop me."

Tam looked over the Sister again before speaking, as if working something out in her head. Finally, she nodded to herself.

"Her real name is Leliana," the Qunari said, "This is the Orlesian bard that travelled with the Hero of Ferelden during the Blight. The one the Arishok likes to talk about. I would guess that she has already sent a message to her Chantry, with orders to rally the Templars and the Empire to attack us together if she does not return alive."

Which would have screwed us entirely. We could take on any power individually, as they were bound to underestimate us, but getting tag teamed by two or more influential groups with a full understanding of my capabilities simply wasn't going to work. I recognised the danger immediately, albeit with a great deal of frustration. My urge to blast holes in the Sister increased, but my head won over my heart. I clicked my tongue in my dissonance, but kept my audible complaints to that alone. I turned to the woman in question one last time. She had a small smile on.

"Well then, _Leliana_ ," I said, "I guess I have no choice."

"No, you do not," Leliana replied with a small bow, " _Sam_."

That was the end of the high dissatisfying conversation.

* * *

We left the Wolf's Lair the next day, our numbers boosted by six hundred mages and fifty "Tranquil", all of whom I was very glad to have join us. Of course, only the hundred Libertarian mages could actually be counted on to be able to fight, but as I have said elsewhere, direct use of such valuable individuals on the battlefield was a waste. Not that we could afford to dismiss their help in that regard at that time. With us went a couple of dozen more horses, several more chests of valuables, the nightscope we had recovered from the gatehouse, and two thirds of the supply of the magical substance lyrium the Templars had stashed in wagons.

We had cunningly disguised the mages in less conspicuous clothing for the journey, some of them even donning Templar chainmail. We stripped out the armoury too, and now had the means to equip another two hundred soldiers when we got back. Which we did. Overall, I was extremely pleased by the haul. So much so that my festive mood returned as I watched the long line of wagons moving.

The trip was slow going, as we couldn't maintain a military pace with so many of the mages being greatly weakened by their experience over the last few months. Hiding out in the wilderness and then being tossed into a cave without much food doesn't exactly put weight on the bone. Some of them were entirely unable to walk for more than fifteen minutes, and the worst cases were put on the wagons. I sent riders ahead to inform everyone back home that we were on the way, so that preparations could be made.

Leliana left us near the end of our march to return to Val Royeaux to report to her superiors, riding with the columns. I had some brief talks with her on the subject of the Blight, and got a little more information about the Hero of Ferelden. The answers about Morrigan intrigued me the most though. The Sister thoroughly disapproved of her methods, but seemed to respect her in a strange sort of way. I wasn't getting the full story there no matter how much I pressed, and I knew it, so most of the conversation was about technical details. Blight sickness, darkspawn numbers, the nature of their taint, and the response of the various nations at the time. It would be useful later.

We finally returned a few days later than expected, marching up the avenue of trees with a sprinkling of snow falling, presaging the amount we'd get in the weeks to come. I was in front with Tam and Ciara, Armen and Leha were a good bit behind in the middle of the formation with the rest of the wagons. Soprano was on hand nearby too with Mike, ready to deliver orders at a word. I wanted to be the first to see what was going on and have the ability to react immediately, to make sure our home was still in our hands.

Waiting for us were four figures on horseback, alongside the squad I had left to protect L'Ambassade.

One of the figures was Julie, though it was hard to tell at first because she was wearing her deep blue half-mask with red and white highlights that weren't easy to see from afar, her figure also being covered by her fur coat. I could understand the latter, all the others were wearing them, but I couldn't comprehend the former until we got closer. The Baron was in the middle, a striking a figure as ever in his red mask and blue heraldry atop his large horse. Even from a distance I could tell he wasn't pleased, and the reason why was obvious. Revered Mother Brandon was out in front of him on her more modest pony. You would think that she would have sent my stomach reeling in panic, being as I was arriving with hundreds of supposedly apostate mages. You would be right too. She was the object of my attentions right until we got into proper earshot.

The fourth figure was familiar to me in the worst way possible; Cécile des Arbes, my prosecutor at the mockery of a trial I was subjected to at Halamshiral. Red masked aristocratic contempt and all. It looked like the jig was up for me, though doubts began niggling in my mind when I completed failed to see hundreds of Orlesian Army soldiers waiting to arrest me. In fact, I couldn't even see any of the Baron's usual guards. Despite this, I felt that caution was the better part of valour.

"Tam, get your sword out," I said quietly as we approached. She complied immediately, though not without a curious look. She gave the blade a wide swing before bringing it to rest across the front of her saddle, likely to insure those ahead of us saw it. Ciara joined her by taking her bow off her back and nocking an arrow. The cleric displayed some concern with the gestures at least, which lifted my spirits.

Julie had Revas trot around the woman and came up to us with a smile, and an infectious one at that. I was grinning like an idiot as she took off her mask. She leaned over to give Tam a hug and a kiss, before leading her horse around to do the same to me. I felt immensely relieved. Not only because it was a sign that things were okay, but also because I had survived to see her again. I have no doubts Tam felt the same way.

"It's good to see you all," said Julie, giving Ciara a hug, "We were expecting you yesterday."

"The mages slowed us down," the Dalish girl replied, "What's going on?"

"Things have developed since you were away," Julie said, "We were almost in trouble there for a moment." There was no difficulty in seeing why.

"I am sure you pulled us out of the fire just in time," Tam smiled, "I don't see any army to subdue us."

"Just the Baroness I'm afraid," replied Julie flippantly, looking at me, "She thinks you're a murderer."

"I know," I replied, "Is that going to be a problem?" I already knew it wouldn't be.

"She's not happy about something else now," Julie responded, putting her half-mask back on, "Come on, they're waiting."

We followed Julie on horseback towards the Baron, but were intercepted by Mother Brandon about half way. I already had a plan for dealing with her objections, but it didn't make me think of her as less of a nuisance. My jaw clenched shut as she began speaking, so as to avoid saying anything untoward. I waved the column to continue to unpack the wagons behind the château, while I spoke with the cleric.

"Marquis, is it true that you have come back with apostates?" she said, "There have been the most fantastic rumours." That amused me. I often wonder if I could have avoided trouble by simply living up to the rumours as opposed to denying them. Better to be feared than loved, as both Julie and an old Florentine would say.

"My soldiers are fine, by the way," I said, ignoring her point and not-so-subtly pointing out her failure to inquire about their well-being, "No casualties, just a few new scars." To her credit, the Revered Mother was taken aback.

"My apologies, Marquis," Brandon said quickly, "I did not mean to ignore the plight of your fighting men and women." She seemed sincere, and so I decided to quit stalling. She didn't know any better than what she was taught, after all. Perhaps she was worried that word would spread of her ignoring her flock's spiritual needs, but I relaxed a little regardless.

"Six hundred mages of the Aequitarian, Lucrosian and Libertarian factions are now under my protection and supervision, along with fifty Tranquils," I said, "I hope you will help me integrate them into our community." Translation: I expect you to stand aside and do your job without meddling. I was getting more used to the formal Orlesian language, as you can probably see. The Mother was having none of it.

"Marquis, as much as it would please me to do so, the Chantry's position is clear, magic must serve man," Brandon replied, "Not to mention that due to the events in Kirkwall, almost everyone is afraid of the creatures." That set me off.

"Maybe they would find it easier to serve man if preachers did not lock them away like slaves," I retorted angrily in Common, "Or call them creatures rather than people." I nudged Bellona with my heels to ride off. The Mother shouted after me, but I kept going.

It was almost a relief to see the Baron, though the dark cloud created by the presence of Cécile was still there. I saluted the man in the manner of my homeland, and now the manner of the Army, before taking off my helmet.

"We had a complete victory over the Templars," I said to the group, "Sorry for not telling you before, but I had to act fast. I will explain the details in a more... private setting. I hope you understand."

The Baron remained unchanged from his less than friendly standing, but I could not tell if it was now directed at me. A simple nod to acknowledge what I said was all I got out of him on the subject. I'm sure he would have liked to hear the tale, but that would have meant delaying something else.

"There is another matter..." he began reluctantly.

"Tell me, _Marquis_ ," the Baroness interrupted loudly, "Are you Clint Eastwood or Samuel Hunt? Or are you just a liar?" I almost had to take a breath. She was angry, as angry as I was with the Revered Mother a minute earlier, and the anger was not directed entirely at me. I felt sorry for the Baron, as I had put him in this position. Albeit unknowingly.

"Lord Samuel Hunt, Marquis de la Fayette," I said, smoothing over the problem as best I could, "That is my true title." It wasn't when I had met her, but it would be forever more. She didn't need to know that detail though.

"You stood accused of murder," the Baroness said, "I should have you arrested and dragged in chains back to Halamshiral." Hilarious idea.

"Then I'll be glad to present my agreement with the Baron," I replied flatly, "I wonder how the court will look upon nobles who make common cause with murderers." Not well, if the noise the Baroness made in response was any indication.

"We can have the chevaliers kill you," she continued, "There would be no charges against us if we did so." The switching over to the use of the collective 'we' from 'I' was poor attempt to solicit support from the Baron, and one that was made completely pointless by the colossal moan that he let out in response. Julie and Ciara practically laughed at the notion, but managed to suppress outright giggles with varying degrees of success. Even I thought it was pretty funny.

Tam was far less amused. She pointed her longsword at the Baroness. "No chevalier will pass these gates without permission and live," she growled through her wicked smile, "Try it." The Baroness returned an icy stare, which didn't bother Tam in the slightest. Yeesh. Not exactly what I would have planned had the eventuality come to pass, but it was effective.

The Baron rolled his eyes, a gesture still visible through his mask, and stopped the nonsense immediately. "Right, that's enough," he said, to both Tam and the Baroness, "There will be no disruption of the peace. Cécile, you are too stubborn, let it go." I have to admit I was with him on this.

"Why should I?" replied the Baroness, "We are risking everything by having him here." Which was very true, though not for the reasons she was assuming or for ones that any of us yet knew.

"Marquis, I came to thank you for recovering our gold and silver from the collectors. You have abided by the terms of our pact with honour," the Baron said, "And to discuss this... mage situation before I depart to Halamshiral for the winter." He handed over a roll of documents, which I presumed were instructions of what to do while he was away. I would have opened them up then and there, as I wasn't sure what he expected of me. If it wasn't for the presence of one particular annoyance.

"The mages cannot stay!" Mother Brandon declared, "They are too dangerous. We have no Templars should they summon demons!" She neglected to mention why the hell they would start summoning demons in the first place. The mages weren't going to do anything that foolish, they weren't anywhere near that desperate. Not to mention that most of them were of the moderate factions that looked upon that sort of thing as a huge betrayal of everything they stood for.

However, I looked around and saw agreement with what she was saying, at least on some level. The Baron and Baroness were both looking to my for a rebuttal. I didn't really care about their opinion, they could do nothing against me and the Baron knew it even if the Baroness didn't. No, it was Julie and Tam who made me do something stupid. They had long shared fears about mages, reflective of the general mood of the population. They were torn between their loyalty to me and the possibilities of something going wrong. I could deflect the attack of one mage, but what could I do about hundreds.

Just then, Armen and Leha were passing by on our old wagon. It gave me the idea for the demonstration that would provide my first real measure of fame.

I called them over, and turned to the group assembled.

"You'll want to dismount," I said, "The horses might get scared." Everyone complied, and the stable boys took the horses away to the stables at the other side of the compound. Armen and Leha walked through the light coating of snow, dodging the next platoon of troops marching along before resuming a more casual pace. Both looked curiously at me.

"What is this?" Leha asked flatly with a wave of her hand, "A party."

"Something like that," I chuckled, "Armen, assemble the mages on the parade ground facing away from the buildings. Those most capable of fighting go front and centre. Bring out the Templar too, he should find this entertaining."

The mage raised an eyebrow, but grinned in the way that he does before nodding. He wandered off, speaking into the mouthpiece of his radio. I waved for the others to follow me, as the wagons went by.

It took about fifteen minutes before the mages were gathered. Soprano, having heard the order from a distance, had also got her skirmishers together, presumably for the protection of our little town. Many of the ordinary citizenry were turning out as well, as word spread that the mages had arrived. The gawking had begun in earnest. Delrin Barris watched too, away from much notice as he had been stripped of his Templar garb for the trip. All of which would play into my hands.

"Revered Mother, I'll prove to you that the mages are no threat," I said, "And to everyone else." The cleric narrowed her eyes, but said nothing. She watched, as I wanted.

"Marquis, what do you intend?" the Baron asked, glancing around at the gathering crowds, "To have them swear an oath of allegiance?" How typical of the thinking of a noble. Just like with my 'vassals', I would eventually speak to each of them individually to place them in the best occupation for their talents. That was for later, though.

"Better," I replied, "All of you, stay here." I marched out into the wide plaza in front of the mages, about a hundred yards away directly ahead of them.

"Sam, what are you doing," Julie asked over the radio, "Come back." She had realised what I was going to do.

"Can't, sorry," I replied, "They need to see this, and I need to know."

Armen moved out of the mass of mages, Velarana with him. He put up his hands, indicating that he had done what I had asked and wondering what was next. I gave him a thumbs up, before taking my kite shield into my left hand and my handcannon in my right. Finally, I tossed aside the warm riding cloak that had been around me, revealing my Earth-panoply. Lastly, remembering how blinding Fade-lightning could be, I put on my sunglasses. I was ready.

"Tell the mages to kill me," I shouted, "With everything they have."

A wave of consternation rippled through the mages first, before infecting the civilians. Even the soldiers seemed disturbed, although less so given that some of them had seen me deflect lightning with no effort. Chattering and mumbling rumbled through the cold air. Yet no one moved to attack, to my annoyance.

"Do it!" I roared, "That's an order!"

Velarana stepped forwards, ignoring Armen's private words.

"Are you testing us?!" she shouted back, "We would never attack someone who was not our enemy!" The Aequitarian's grasp of public relations was sublime, apparently. Her declaration sent reassured whispers through the civilians, an unexpected bonus to what I had planned. I had forgotten entirely that the mages were not a military force. They were entirely unused to taking orders, never mind ones that instructed them to attack their liberator. Almost none of them had ever killed before.

"The test isn't for you!" I boomed, "Now attack me!" I raised my handcannon towards her, making sure that the safety was on. She knew what it was. So did the crowd. Still she did not attack. Thankfully, she didn't need to.

A young human mage behind, with a shaved head, finally cracked. To this day, I don't know why he decided to act, and I only ever spoke to him once. He spun his staff, before clenching it in his hands, and a flurry of white ice bolts sprang from the top in formation. They sailed towards me, and I knew already that they would not harm me. However, the dam had broken.

The front ranks erupted in spellwork, before the first volley had even hit me. All manner of dangers flew at me, but were deflected. Lightning bolts bounced off of me harmlessly. Great spikes of ice disintegrated into water as they approached me, soaking me to the skin. Fireballs the size of basketballs flew at me by the handful, only to dissipate on contact. It was like being punched lightly but repeatedly, as the physical force of some of the attacks did not stop until impact. It was extremely uncomfortable, but far from lethal. Most spells kill with effect rather than force, and their force was greatly diminished by my immunity too.

Someone even summoned what could only have been a meteorite from the sky. A green flash announced its arrival, a disturbingly familiar sight. I raised my shield immediately, expecting a demon, as I had no idea whether or not my immunity would defend me from the claws of such a beast. I need not have worried. The Fade-rock split into pieces on impact, the remains bouncing away to either side of me until it collided with the perimeter fence. That was the showstopper.

The tingling of the lightning stopped, replaced with the beginnings of shivering. The cold replaced the heat of the firebolts, and evaporating of the water from the icebolts ceased as a result. I peeked over the top of my shield, and then let that arm fall to my side. What I saw was almost comical.

Every mage looked like they had just watched a Pride demon sing _Happy Birthday Mister President_. Or more accurately, as if Andraste herself had. Mouths agape, staffs lowered, shoulders slouched, eyes wide. The crowds were in a similar state of shock. Hard to blame them. Not even the most capable Templar in Thedas could have withstood such a concentrated assault. Later of course, I realised upon analysing what had happened that my immunity did have its limits. That I felt anything at all from the spells was testament to that. However, to these men and women, I was something entirely unique. Or so we all thought.

I wasn't sure if Velarana had joined in the initial attack, but she looked at me with a new interest now.

As I was about to speak, she materialised a sword in her hand and leapt forwards into a Fade step, a magically assisted sprint that left a trail of ice behind her. Before I could react, she was within swinging distance, and swing she did. The magical blade struck me below the neck at the collar bone. It shattered, but not before delivering a blow akin to a bamboo cane.

I shuddered backwards with the pain, and rallied forwards in a fit of anger. I knocked the elf mage on her ass with a swipe of my shield, and levelled my handcannon at her. She looked positively terrified, and clambered backwards a little. Realising I had done what I needed to and feeling guilty for losing control for a moment, I holstered my weapon and offered my hand.

To my relief, she took it, and I helped her get up. She smiled, God help me.

The others approached, practically running. The crowd moved in as well, with shouts and cheers, but were restrained by Soprano's soldiers. Full credit to her reaction times. And so, Julie and Tam were first to reach me.

"How did you know that was going to work?" Tam asked, grabbing me to make sure I was okay.

"You could have died, you idiot!" Julie added, before bringing both Tam and I into a hug. I held them both close for a moment, glad I was still in one piece. It had been a massive gamble, and admitting this in writing now will have probably earned me a punch by the time you have read this. The pairs of green and violet eyes coolly pinpointed me, waiting for a response. I knew I had better make it good.

"The Revered Mother needed to see it," I replied, as the woman in question came nearer, the Baron and Baroness behind her.

"Indeed," said Velarana, "I doubt anyone could object now, after seeing you go through that. You have a gift." I thanked her in my head, for making the point for me. Julie and Tam conceded, as happy I was safe as I was.

"I wonder what the dear Mother Brandon will say," Armen declared, patting me on the shoulder, "It should be interesting."

In truth, her reaction was utterly exhausting and utterly unexpected.

The cleric approached, and called for silence, holding up her hands. She got it with alarming quickness. She budged Armen and Velarana over, slapping the former's hand when he tried to object. The crowd could see me clearly. She turned to me quickly.

"Marquis, you have my deepest apologies," she said, "I was wrong about you. There is only one thing left to do now." I had not a clue what she was talking about.

She stepped back, and looked to the crowd.

"The magic touched him, but he still stands! It is a sign from the Maker!" Brandon declared, her fiery preaching unleashed, "He has sent this man to protect us from the evils of the Fade! He has gathered these loyal mages for our protection!"

The crowd roared in agreement. Some of my soldiers joined in. Uh oh, I thought.

"He shall be the bane of demons and apostates alike!" Brandon continued, "Long live the Peacekeeper! Long live La Fayette!" She returned to my side, and went down on one knee.

"Long live the Peacekeeper!" the crowd shouted, "Long live La Fayette!" The chant repeated. The civilians followed their spiritual leader's example, taking a knee. Clenched fists swung upwards with every verse.

You really have to respect Mother Brandon for this. She was a wily one, to say the least. Where most preachers would have turned the mob onto me, in fear of being displaced, she knew that this was folly. I had soldiers and could have killed her with complete ease. I do not know whether it was deliberate or a complete fluke, but by aligning her cause with mine, she reinforced her position in our community. Needless to say, she remained as tedious as ever despite now supporting me. The fervour does that to people.

That doubt sprung to my mind immediately, but there was nothing I could do to reverse what she had done. Nor did I want to. She had done me a massive favour. She had legitimised me in the eyes of the believers.

I could not help but smile and wave, believing that things would at least be easier with the population's doubts erased. Perhaps it would have been under different circumstances. I wasn't counting on Julie.

* * *

As I have stated previously, the admiration and worship I would receive was to pale in comparison to that of Julie Marteau.

Of course, I would remain famous and infamous for my immunity to magic, and Tam would soon be my equal, a figure of discussion and gossip as a Qunari prominent in a community that largely wasn't. One might wonder how we began to pale in comparison to her. The beginning of it undoubtedly was the aftermath of the Peacekeeper's Test, as my little demonstration began to be called.

The Baron and Baroness left for Halamshiral, to their quarters near the Winter Palace. Court life beckoned, as it did for most of the nobility in the Dales who wished to participate in the Great Game. The Baron's task for me was twofold; protect his land with my troops, and raise new levies. He hinted at the possibility of future conflict, quite subtly referring to the clash between the Empress and the Grand-Duke as well as the tax situation. Had I known what his contingency plan was, perhaps I would have shot him. Alas, I didn't, so I set about doing as he commanded. It fit with my own oath and role anyway.

The next two weeks were very busy.

Word came from Leliana from the north that she had successfully made contact with the Divine, and that her actions had been approved. Which was a great relief to me, as you can imagine.

With that worry off of my shoulders, I began to organise food distribution for some of the villages we knew would suffer later in winter, to head off any ideas about revolts or food riots. We had to modify some of the wagons with sled-skids, as the snow began to build up, but our people made it through easily enough. Julie often led those missions, for reasons you will discover.

The first new levies gathered from the estates of the Baron's vassal chevaliers arrived a week later, a good thousand men and women. I merged the best two hundred into my existing troops, offering them contracts as I had with everyone else. The Baron, perhaps knowing my ideas, sent elves as well as humans. Using the horses we had captured from White Mask and the Templars, I had a hundred of my best troops start training as lancers, while rotating all of my little army through horsemanship so they could be moved quickly once we bought more horses in the spring. The other eight hundred or so levies I had trained as pike and sword men, using the old methods from Earth empires, Macedonia and Rome. I had learned that the Orlesians used heavy cavalry, and had no desire to be unprepared for that.

We had to house many of these new people too, and so our forest got a little more thin as I put mages and carpenters to work on building yet more houses and facilities for the newcomers. Both mage and non-mage. Most of the former signed on as workers too, though those calling themselves 'knight-enchanters' preferred to sign up for the military side of things without being asked. I let that slide. I was sure most of them would be useful in the role anyway, and had them train in non-magical combat techniques with the new recruits. They didn't appreciate that much, but they did it anyway. Defying the guy who could slap them on the head after walking through their spells wasn't likely to be considered an option.

All of this was made easier by Revered Mother Brandon, whose sermons concerning me went from hostile to supportive in the space of a day. Tam helped immensely too, fielding questions about me with exceptional patience, and there were no shortage of those. The rumour that I was from another world had gotten out just as the news of my Fade immunity was spreading. This ironically played entirely into the hands of those who believed my presence was divine intervention. It also was most likely the reason for the events of Christmas, but those will be recounted in the next chapter.

I discovered Julie's first moves towards her destiny as Satinalia approached. That's the Thedosian equivalent of Christmas to us Earthlings, at least in Orlais. Though it's in November. It's closer to an open brothel party in some parts of the Free Marches, but I digress. Building work and food convoys were still ongoing as we came up on the date, and that brought its own trouble.

Leha and I were finally having that discussion about my origins, as I had finally heard that my 'other' secret was making the rounds. I don't remember many of the details, but it started off with my complaining to her about it and eventually ended up on the subject of the picture book we had somewhere. I took Leha to the library in the château to look for it. We searched, but didn't find it.

"It doesn't seem to be here," I frowned, rifling through the large lockbox that we kept the books in, "Some other stuff seems to be missing too." It seemed more empty than usual.

Leha put herself against the wall and crossed her arms, watching me search. She had been quite enthusiastic about seeing the proof. She was not appreciating the delay.

"Maybe Julie or the big one knows where it went," she said. That jogged my memory, for no particular reason.

"Ah, Armen had it," I said, recalling that he had ripped out a page and brought it with him weeks earlier, "Maybe it's in his lab."

We left the library and jogged down the staircase, before exiting into the inner square of the château. Ciara was there, tending to some winter flowers that she had planted on our return. They were blooming a brilliant purple, and I interrupted our search to compliment her.

"Those look damn good," I said, after greeting her, "You're a talented gardener."

Ciara nodded knowingly.

"My mother was the clan herbalist," she replied, "She would often plant seeds on our routes, not just for medicines but simply to brighten our way when we knew we would return by some path or another." The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, apparently. This was one of the few times that she ever spoke about her family. Of course, I had to go ruin it.

"I'm sure she'd be proud of you," I said, "You know where Armen is? I'm looking for the picture book, to show Leha." The dwarf was inspecting one of the flowers a little roughly, and I nudged her to stop. I got a glare for my trouble, which almost stopped me from seeing the suspect look on Ciara's face.

"Umm, I'm not sure exactly," Ciara replied sheepishly, "Maybe down by the residencies?" That was in the exact other end of our estate to Armen's labs, and the way she said it made me highly suspicious.

"Ciara," I said, a little more forcefully, "Where is Armen?"

"I don't know," she replied defiantly.

Leha hmmed to herself, before indicating to me to follow. Ciara let out an 'ah', and put her hand up as if to stop us, but it didn't work. The dwarf led me out of the château and towards Armen's lab. The chimney was smoking, so someone was in there I thought.

Leha opened the sliding doors to reveal pretty much the same scene that was always to be found there. Equipment and chemical jars everywhere. However, one thing was wrong. The furnace and the fireplace were both lacking any fire burning inside. In fact, they were clean, not even the remains of wood or turf inside them. That struck me as very odd, along with the fact that no one else was inside.

"Where's the fire?" I asked Leha, thinking it might have just been steam before remembering it would still take heat to create that effect.

"Where's Armen," Leha shot back, "Something's wrong here." The room was warm, yet there was no fire. My curiosity grew. I began looking around more closely, wandering the space until something gave a little under my feet near the door. There was a large but thin rug, supposedly there simply to stop any of the vials that might have fallen from the table nearby. I laughed at the cliché, kicking it away. The trap door was revealed.

"A basement?" Leha asked, "I didn't know this place had a basement?"

"Neither did I," I said, "Shall we go see what Armen wants to hide so badly?"

I went to unlock the door, but stopped when I noticed a sound. The sound of a machine moving leaked out of the cracks, but I couldn't figure out exactly what it was. Someone was down there, Armen most likely, I figured. Not wanting to alert him, I opened the trap door slowly, hung off the edge and dropped to the drop instead of using the ladder.

The space around me was quite a bit larger than the building above, the weight of the ground supported by arches. It wasn't quite as big as a warehouse, but it was clearly meant for storage. Candles lit the way to another door, still within the confines of the building upstairs, but I had to explore the rest of the space. There were more tables, and objects on them that I simply had to see for myself. Leha climbed down too.

"What is this?" she whispered.

"I think I know," I whispered back, picking something off the nearest table.

It was a firelance. A muzzle-loading, flint-lock firelance for use with _gaatlok_ blackpowder. Nowhere near as advanced as the ones I used, but quite possibly hundreds of years ahead of what the Qunari had. It was something my ancestors might have recognised three hundred years before. It was more than half as long as I was tall, and the barrel was rifled. The craftmanship was precise too. I cocked the flint, aimed the weapon off of my shoulder and pulled the trigger. I got a satisfying ping as the hammer struck the stone off the steel, creating a spark.

There was only one person who could have crafted such a thing. It was only just within the technological capability of Thedas to create, and it could only have been created with knowledge from Earth. I looked around the place and saw a dozen more weapons along the same lines, all slightly different. The weapon's design was being refined.

I was seriously confused. This world was not ready for such weapons, and there were reasons enough to stay away from making them besides that. Reasons I had made perfectly clear to my entire group. I almost ran Leha clean over as I paced towards the far door, towards the sound of the machinery. I practically kicked it down, the firelance still in my hand.

I found Armen and Julie inside. The blacksmith looked up from reading something by a fireplace, the source of the smoke rising through the exhaust of the furnace. She looked absolutely astonished to see me, and not the least bit guilty. The mage was operating the machine, and the machine was almost certainly a printing press. A stack of blank paper was to one side of him, and a stack of bound prints was to the other. He at least had the decency to look guilty.

"What is this?" I asked, holding up the weapon, "Because it looks like a god damn musket."

Julie sat down on a stool, and bade Leha and I to sit. We did so, while Armen nodded to her, before continuing to check out the latest prints. The blacksmith sighed, and looked at me with honest eyes.

"I don't want to lie to you," she said, "It is exactly what it looks like." She reached behind her and picked up another firelance, this time with more refinements to the design. She placed the butt on the ground and held it up.

"You wouldn't give us the weapons, Sam," Julie continued, "And we knew we would need them. Orlais, the Templars, the Qunari... eventually someone is going to come and destroy us." Her tone pleaded with me to understand. I wavered, but my resolve rallied.

"I can't allow that to happen," she continued, "I won't let them take you, and I won't let them destroy what we are building." I really wish I had been kinder to her at this moment. It is painful to remember.

I was rendered speechless for a moment. It was a complete betrayal, even if it was all to save me. Julie was a determined, intelligent, caring person, but I could not accept that these things had led her to disregard my opinion so readily.

"Does Tam know?" I asked, wondering if it had been a conspiracy of sorts.

Julie shook her head. "Tam agrees with you," she said, "I asked her if we should do this months ago, and she said no. She thought that Orlais would steal our weapons and launch an Exalted March if we tried." Which was very nearly what happened.

"Obviously, you disagreed with that," I said, "Do you have the formula?" Referring to the gunpowder, there.

"I found it one of your military books," Julie said quietly, "Along with pictures that helped me make these." I looked down at the weapon laying across my lap.

In retrospect, I should have been glad she hadn't decided to make a full-blown cannon. Artillery is what wins wars, not small arms. I was too upset. I felt like I had been kicked in the chest. However, I had to deal with the reality of the situation, no matter how hard it was. I needed a moment to gather my thoughts, a moment that Leha provided.

"What's with the printing press?" the dwarf asked, thumbing behind her towards the machine, "That's a dwarf design too, or I'm not from Orzammar." The only people who possessed such equipment in Orlais were the Chantry and the Dwarva, which is probably why authors tended to live in the Free Marches where anyone could be published if they could sway a publisher. Though publishers there still tended to be dwarva too. Control the press, control opinion.

"Have a look," said Armen, handing us two of the prints. I needed the distraction, so I looked it over.

" _Le Sens Commun_ ," I read aloud, " _For the peoples of the Dales, on the subject of your liberty and your ability to defend it._ " In Orlesian, of course.

Julie looked at me for a response, but I was in no mood to praise her, no matter how noble her sentiments.

"I hope the content isn't as plagiarised as the title," I growled, "You do realise that fomenting revolution will get us killed as quickly as showing up with weapons everyone wants?"

The blacksmith rolled her eyes at that. "War is coming anyway," she stated, "Celene and Gaspard will see to that." I scoffed, but could not actually deny the truth in that statement. Instead, I flicked through the pages.

" _Andraste set us free from the magisters, yet the royal family have made us slaves again. Even the nobles must murder each other to speak for their natural rights before the Empress,_ " Leha read aloud, before slamming the paper on the ground, "By the Stone, the Divine will send an Exalted March here if she reads this!"

Thankfully the Divine had enough on her plate to make that an impossibility, but she hardly needed to when push came to shove. I was glad at least Leha understood the danger.

"Here's a good line," I said sarcastically to her, " _Andraste said that magic must serve man, but how can magic serve man when mages are locked away, their talents used for the health and amusement of the high nobility alone!_ " I stared at Armen, recognising his politics immediately in the text. He held his hands up.

"Don't look at me," the mage said, before pointing at Julie, "She added it after you decided to take a walk through magical thunder and fire." He damn well agreed with it though. I handed him back the pamphlet. It was outrageous.

"The weapons I could almost understand," I said to both of them, "But your people aren't ready for these ideas. They'll get boatloads of people killed." I felt that the Orlesian peasant was so inferior that I could not believe they could aspire to anything greater without a long period of adjustment. Many movements for change descended into the most horrific barbarism on Earth, and I expected the same would happen here. I possessed an arrogance about it, and Julie knew it.

"What, we're too stupid for our own freedom?!" she said, standing up, "I'm not sure it's your business, whether or not we want this." That set me off like a powderkeg.

"Just because you're willing to fight, doesn't mean you'll win! You're not a general!" I shouted, "Not every revolution succeeds, and some of those that do just make things worse!" No one in Thedas has experienced the revolutionary tribunal, the show trial, the forced conscription of millions for battles commanded by imbeciles. It has known evil, sure, but it has not known gulags or gas chambers. The names Stalin and Hitler do not ring out here like they do on Earth, despite my best efforts in other writings that I have disseminated widely. People are still far too willing to kill each other over race and religion, even in my new home. I wanted desperately to avoid that fate.

"Your people succeeded and built a great country!" Julie said, pouring every ounce of her determination into her voice, "I want a country too. If you don't like it, shoot me." I threw my hands up and turned away from her, before pinching the bridge of my nose. I couldn't say anything to that.

I gently but quickly kissed her on the cheek. I looked into her eyes, and mumbled an apology. I couldn't support Julie on this, but I wasn't willing to oppose her either. I left the room, ditching the firelance by the door forcibly.

* * *

 _AUTHOR'S NOTE: So... that happened. Only two more chapters in this volume, and they're both complete firecrackers. The next volume will be entitled "Revolution"._

 _ **5 Coloured Walker:** Cheers, your reviews are always appreciated._

 _ **Tactus501st:** Happy dances are encouraged. Youtube it._

 _ **Mik3k:** That typo should be fixed, though I'm sure there are more lurking about. Glad you're enjoying it._

 _ **Kelborn Ordo:** Cheers._

 _ **Comavampure:** Barris played a small role in this chapter, but he gets a great deal more time in the next. _

_Leliana definitely understands the threat posed by Sam. Question is, does he understand hers?_

 _ **Asahar4:** Thanks_

 _ **Greyfox:** Keep following it so, there's plenty more to come._

 _ **Knives91:** Nope, shit will continue to hit the fan. First rule of plot: If things are going well, it's a trap._

 _ **Caesar12:** Perfect is high praise indeed. Though if someone can explain to me what a D'Arcy fiction is, I'll pay them a princely sum._

 _ **Mireczek:** Thank you._


	22. Chapter 22: Uninvited Guests

**Chapter Twenty-Two: Uninvited Guests**

The Templars did not wait long to try and overturn our great victory at the Wolf's Lair. Nearly two months later, a month after I had discovered Julie's secret, they struck with unrelenting force.

It was my fault, at least partially. The stunt with the mages had not only spread word of my own secrets, namely my immunity to the Fade and my extra-Thedosian origins. Over the course of December, Cassus or Haring to you, word trickled back that the Templars were telling people further north that only a Fade creature could be immune to the Fade. The mages' presence was not only open but very well known. Word reached Val Royeaux at the start of December, and I got a rather displeased letter from Sister Leliana on the subject.

I thought little of it. The snows had become too heavy for any army large enough to move without taking huge casualties from attrition, or so I thought.

Exacerbating this was Julie's own efforts, very much a case of the mouse playing while the cats were away. Her publication, _Le Sens Commun_ , became as spectacularly popular as the one it was named for. I had greatly underestimated the level of discontent in the Dales, not least from the 'city' elves, whom took to it almost like it was a sacred text. It certainly didn't help when Leha got a whiff of the profit margins, and began shipping crates of the damned thing with the alcohol we moved downriver. It seems that radical political literature can breed coins as well as finely distilled liquor. Orlesians do like to be titillated.

I was never involved with the process, but if I had to guess from the money we saw, at least a hundred thousand copies had been sold in the first month. Not all of them printed by us. Even the Carta seemed to get in on the act. Illiterate peasants were whipped up, hearing it read out in taverns and village halls at night, merchants squabbled over its message on taxation, Revered Mothers would either condemn or support its principles from the pulpit, while nobles in Halamshiral and at the University of Orlais discussed its principles on liberty. All four would come to me at various points in future to ask what my input had been. Julie had referred directly to Earth at one point in it, after all. I was very glad to tell them my part in its creation was nil.

Whether it was my popular status as a living anomaly or Julie's heresy for using Andraste's example against the political and religious status quo, powerful forces began to take note. Two would be visiting us within the day. A third bided its time.

* * *

And so it came to the night of Christmas Eve, the Thirty-Eighth year of the Dragon Age.

Everyone had been given the day and the one after for family. I had decorated perhaps the first Christmas tree ever to see Thedas, although far from the last. I explained to gathered crowds the purpose behind the vacation, as best I could without a Bible or a Dickens novel. With some modification of course, to account for local sensibilities on the subject of the gender of the saviour. It was quite amusing to retell the stories to an audience that had never heard them before.

Sunlight turned to darkness, and the night began.

I was still not on good speaking terms with Julie, our original group having been split in two by our fight. Tam and Leha both agreed with me, Armen and Ciara sided with Julie. I had even slept elsewhere for the whole month, something made tolerable only by the occasional presence of Tam. She suggested to both Julie and I to resolve our differences, but both of us were too stubborn to listen. That was Tam's way though. She loved us, and knew we loved her. It was painful for her to watch us separated, so she tried daily to mend things. And I loved her all the more for it.

I still felt like utter crap the whole four weeks or so. Christmas Eve felt like the right time to change that, but I couldn't bring myself to do it that day. I promised myself I would do something the day after.

So, with nothing to do due to my dismissal of almost all of my subordinates, I decided to join the night watch.

It was something I did only very occasionally until that month, when it became a welcome distraction. In retrospect, I would have done it sooner, considering how well I got to know some of my soldiers as a result. Another two of my heavy hitters had the same thought, and I ended up on top of the château with Soprano and Mike. We had converted the corner of the attic nearest the gate and the parade ground into a watchtower, complete with the night scope we had taken from the Templars. There was also a series of rope pulleys, allowing us to get to the ground in seconds, without having to go through the staircases inside.

We sat there for the first few hours of darkness, drinking hot herbal tea in our furs and scanning the surroundings. That probably saved a whole bunch of lives, but for hours, we did nothing else. We sat in silence, rubbing our hands together. As usual. The patrols sent out by Hearth's garrison caught most of the wild beasts or the rare Avvar raiding party. The watch was just to satisfy my own paranoia, but then again, it's not paranoia if they're really out to get you.

My presence seemed to cause Mike's curiosity to peak, and eventually she couldn't help herself. The opportunity was too juicy to leave be, apparently.

"Marquis, can I ask you a question?" she said, "A personal one."

Unsure what had caused her reaction, I decided there was no harm in talking. Though I wasn't sure where she was going with it, either.

"Is there any other kind, Sergeant?" I sighed, "Shoot."

"The dwarf says you're from another world. Not here, not the Fade, not the Void," Mike said, listing them off like they were the only possibilities, "The mistress seems to know a lot about it, but is it really true?"

'The' dwarf meaning Leha. Although she undoubtedly would not have enjoyed that title, I found it amusing enough. Tam was the mistress of course, her position in our ranks still extremely cloudy beyond that designation. Referring to her as 'the teacher' was probably accurate too, but less descriptive of what she did overall. I couldn't help but smirk. Mike took it that I was smirking at her, like what she had heard was ridiculous.

"I mean, you're immune to the Fade! No one's supposed to be!" Mike continued quickly, trying to explain herself, "And you haven't denied what Mother Brandon has been saying. I was just wondering..."

"Sergeant, you shouldn't bother the Marquis with such questions," Soprano stated, not taking her eyes away from the nightscope, "He has enough troubles as it is without your pestering." My falling out with Julie had been noticed, though the reason remained a secret. I almost wanted to declare why, as the mortifying rumour that it had to do with infidelity on my part had briefly circulated. I appreciated Soprano's consideration however.

"It's okay, no harm done," I said, "Yes Sergeant, I am from another world." Both of them stopped what they were doing to look at me, in the same incredulous way that Ciara had when she found out.

"There are some who say you are a demon," Soprano said speculatively.

"If I was a demon, would I be sitting out here freezing my ass off?" I laughed, "No, I'm human." Mostly.

I thought about their questions for a moment. Soprano and Mike were two of my most trusted soldiers, and I wanted to get to know them better. Perhaps an ironic position to take, given that I didn't use their real names, but they didn't seem to mind at all. Regardless, I wanted them to know I trusted them, and this was a good time to do so.

"Since you're both interested and can't hide it, I'll let you both ask me a question," I said, standing up and leaning against the edge, "But you'll have to keep watch while you ask. Captain, you can ask first. Privilege of rank." Both seemed to agree, and Soprano hummed deeply to herself. She swung the nightscope about while she thought about her inquiry.

"I heard your world has no elves," the Captain asked, "Did your people kill them?" The pair of them looked at me for an immediate answer, and I felt the weight of their unspoken doubts. If I was a human from another world, were humans from my world like my fellows in Thedas?

"No, they didn't," I replied, "Elves never existed there, except in stories. Stories we know aren't true, because they aren't that old. We know who wrote them and why." Tolkien strikes again.

Thedosian elves weren't exactly comparable to old tales about fairies either, considering that the latter were tiny in Earth mythology. Earth humans had destroyed other sentient species however, through a mixture of warfare and interbreeding. However, that was something like fifteen thousand to thirty thousand years ago, before we even had agriculture. The only reason we ever knew about it was the study of our own genetics and the evidence left over in buried bones.

"There are no Qunari or dwarves either," I added, "We humans get by killing each other just fine without them." A trait shared between worlds, if the brewing wars were any evidence.

Soprano seemed satisfied with my answer, returning her eye to the nightscope without further comment. That was as much talk as you ever got out of her. She was the mirror image of McNulty in that regard. I breathed a little easier, knowing that I had dodged any ill feelings she could have developed had my answer been less encouraging.

"I have a question that no one seems to have the answer to," Mike said, leaning across her knees, "How did you get here? Surely another world is very far away, far further than the moons." In truth, I wasn't sure if Earth was even in the same universe as this planet. I'm much more sure it isn't now, partially because of who I would meet very soon. The sergeant's question was a valid one. Tam had probably held out on answering that for fear of exposing the crash site of my helicopter, or to reduce the possibility that no one would believe the truth. Still, I couldn't help myself testing whether or not Mike would believe.

"I was in a flying machine over a battlefield, when it fell into the Fade somehow," I said, with not an ounce of sarcasm or jest, "We crashed south of Halamshiral."

Mike's eyes opened wide at that, and I could not tell if she thought I was crazy. Soprano was far more easy to read; she was very sceptical, even before she opened her mouth.

"Marquis, I don't mean to be rude, but that's a load of halla shit," the Captain chuckled, "How can there be flying machines? You're just entertaining us now." I simply smiled politely, not taking her criticism to heart. After all, there was physical proof of it, if I ever really wanted to show someone.

"Believe what you want," I said with a shrug, "But think about this. I have weapons that can kill dozens of men at a time from hundreds of yards away. I have tools that let me see in the dark and see the heat of a person's body. I can talk with someone a half a mile away with even raising my voice, even while whispering. Is it really so hard to believe that my people can build machines that can fly, when they have already built machines that can do all of that?"

"He has a point, Captain," Mike admitted, "You were there at the prison. You saw what he did to the gatehouse." Soprano grumbled to herself, swayed by the comparison. It would have convinced me, I thought.

"Just because you can do those things doesn't mean you can fly," the Captain said, "So unless you show me the machine, I won't believe you entirely." Reserving judgment until the evidence came in was a respectable position, so I simply let her have it.

We settled into silence again for a moment, and my mind wandered back to the men I had arrived with. I wondered what life would have been like had they survived. Would I have met Julie and Tam in prison? Would we have even been captured? What would we have done if we weren't? Would it have been my doom? These questions had come into my consciousness before, and I wanted to share their cause with more people.

"When I arrived, I was not alone," I said quietly, "There were another half-dozen soldiers with me. Good people, willing to do their duty. We were in the desert before we were sucked up into the sky, and arrived into a forest in a matter of seconds. They fell in all the same... The first to find us wasn't a group of soldiers, or Templars, it was a dragon and its young. They fought it without a moment's hesitation. The dragon killed most of them, and the little ones got the last man. All of them died, except me." I took a deep gulp of my tea, as I stared off into the night, reliving the moment in my head. I snapped out of it when a particularly cold breeze slapped me on the cheek, and I turned to find both of the elves looking at me with pity.

Pleased to see they liked me enough for that, I smiled at them and slapped Soprano on the shoulder.

"I have new brothers in arms now though," I said, injecting a little more cheer into my tone, "Or should I say, sisters in arms?" Admirable self-deception on my part. Incidentally, I never was a great fan of gender integrated units before, but I would never split them up by sex now. Those issues seem to be better addressed here than in my home. Thank Andraste.

"Glad to be here, sir," Mike replied, before offering her hand. I shook it gently, feeling myself powerfully reinforced by the gesture. Even Soprano looked on with approval, before returning to the watch.

"Don't say that yet," I replied in jest, "You may live to regret it." Not sure she ever did, despite all that happened. I sat down again, only for Soprano to let out an alarmed gasp, stirring me to my feet once more.

"What's wrong?" Mike asked.

"Marquis, can you see that?" Soprano said, pointing in the direction the nightscope was, "I can make out movement, and it looks like humans, but it's too dark with the cloud cover."

My heart sank. That night of all nights was when we would be most vulnerable. Almost everyone having the night off meant most would not be readily armed and armoured. Crossbows were kept in homes, nothing else. I pulled the heat-vision equipment out of its pouch on my waist, attached it to my helmet and lowered to my eye.

There, in a line of angry white shapes against a deep black background, was the advancing enemy. The armour gathering the cold around them could only mean one thing. The Templars had arrived.

"It's the Templars," I said immediately, "Sound the alarm."

Soprano rang the bell, pulling at the clapper hard. Mike went to the edge and added her own voice to the cacophony. The diminutive elf, barely taller than Leha to my eye, was well able to speak above the clanging of the metal.

" _AUX ARMES!_ " the sergeant roared, " _LES TEMPLIERS SONT EN APPROCHE!_ "

To arms, the Templars are approaching. The race to defend ourselves had begun.

* * *

I couldn't get to the other side of L'Ambassade quickly enough.

Soprano, Mike and I had scrambled down the rope, across the parade ground and into the mass of residential buildings. The cold bit my throat and chest hard as I breathed deeply, but all thought of that disappeared once the first fire started.

The falling snow in front of me glowed an angry orange-yellow as it fell, almost like sparks were falling from the heavens rather than ice. It was beautiful, in a strange sort of way, but it didn't move my attention for too long.

The weather would stop the flames spreading naturally, but the intention was clearly not to destroy the settlement in that way. For one, the place was designed to prevent that, but I could see no Templars advancing up the newly paved streets either. They had something else in mind, and whatever it was, I didn't like it. I spat a globule into the snow as we stopped about two thirds of the way down.

Already, people were gathering on the streets. Families peeked from doorways to see what was going on. My soldiers stepped outside, crossbows at the ready. Mages gathered with grim faces, prepared to fight together to the death. All three mixed with each other, plugging up the wide avenues that I had insisted upon for hygiene. No one seemed to be organised any sort of coherent line across the main street, nor any advance towards blocking the Templars from advancing. I saw the danger immediately, and feared the stampede that would inevitably come if the enemy simply showed themselves.

"Marquis, your orders?" Mike asked, crossbow in hand, "Should I rally them and move to attack?" Her confidence had grown, as had that of many in the past few months, but this wasn't the time for rash actions. I would have been willing to bet a tidy sum that rushing forwards was what the Templars were after, and that they knew our numbers. Indeed they did, as we discovered later. However, the first order of business for me was absolutely certain, born of the twofold concerns of protecting the civilians and not giving the Templars the opportunity to take hostages.

"Mike, we need all the civvies to the château, now!" I shouted, "Anyone not willing to fight needs to get the hell out of the way."

"What about you, sir?" the sergeant asked, "Shouldn't you withdraw too? We don't have the numbers to stop the Templars should they try to assassinate you." Displeased by the notion that they'd have the gall to try, I blew a fart out my lips. I had already measured the calibre of the Templars as soldiers, and found them wanting. One of mine was worth any three of theirs, even without firelances.

"Let them try. The Captain and I will take anyone on the street here forwards to delay things while you get everyone to safety," I growled, "One more thing, shove McNulty out of whatever drunken hole he's in and tell him to get as many to the armoury as he can. We can only stop these bastards for so long." I remember thinking that a counterattack would catch them off balance, and relishing the opportunity.

"Good luck, sir," Mike said, before running off down the street shouting commands. Fighters to the Marquis, everyone else to the château, _bougez or crevez_ , things along those lines. Much to my satisfaction, a collection of people willing to fight began forming a circle around me and Soprano. Not all of them were part of my little army either, which did much to strengthen my nerves. That the ordinary worker was willing to volunteer said much for our accomplishments, though I suspect it was out of religious zeal now that I've had more than a few years to think about it.

"We need to buy time for your families and friends to make it to the château, and for the rest of our people to mobilise," I explained, "I think everyone further ahead is gone, so we'll hold this section here. Anyone with a crossbow or magic, get up on the roofs cover all the ways in and out of this block. Everyone else, start dragging out tables, chairs, anything we can use for barricades. There's going to be a lot of them, and we won't make it if they can get a clear run at us." I left fears about cavalry or artillery unsaid, as the Templars were rich enough to bring plenty of both if they wanted to. Though I discounted the latter's presence on the basis of the snow.

"You heard the Marquis, archers and mages get to climbing," Soprano said taking control, "What the hell are you doing, standing around?"

The gathering dispersed. Soprano's ad hoc platoon started hoisting themselves on top of the bungalows. One would hand their crossbow to the other, climb up, take their crossbow back along with another, then pull the other up. Through this or sheer exertion, most of the mages and crossbowmen were in position in no time, though they began taking time to position themselves to avoid getting shot themselves. Meanwhile, Mike pushed the startled non-combatants, telling them to keep to the left of the street as they moved and to walk rather than run. She almost certainly prevented a rush as a result.

With nothing to do but wait, I checked my own weapons. As usual for the watch, I had the heavy firelance and my handcannon, but no mace or shield and no particular abundance of ammunition. With no clue how many Templars were coming. That was far from ideal. I had no indication of enemy numbers save what I had seen from the lookout tower, and that hadn't been much. The snow got in the way. Realising this, I groaned to myself. What if I was overreacting? Or worse, what if they had brought overwhelming force to bear? I had already ordered the Hearth garrison to stay out of any fighting that might occur at L'Ambassade to keep the townspeople out of it, so no help would be coming. Simply put, I had to know.

The last civilians filed past me, and through the growing pile of wood starting to resemble a barricade capable of stopping a charge. Nothing was going to get around me and the defence would hold long enough without me, I reassured myself. I inhaled deeply, before marching forwards through the snow, drawing my fur cloak around my shoulders and putting the hood down again so I could use my visual equipment.

For several minutes, I saw no movement ahead. The flurry of snow was still reflecting the fires. It was very good cover. I heard no great thudding of a large number of troops advancing, only the chomp of my own boots across the cobbles and the crackle of burning wood. I stopped beside the nearest burning house, the closest of about seven to the château. I began to hope it was only a raiding party. That would have been consistent with what I had seen from above. I moved forwards again, firelance barrel raised.

I passed the next set of houses turned bonfires, and the next, but still nothing. The woods beyond were becoming more visible. I strained my eyes trying to see into them, to discover what lay in the snow, waiting to strike. If anything.

Suddenly, the sound of splintering wood erupted to my left. I swung in an instant to shoot, sure it was some Templar assassin trying to stick daggers into my back. Instead, Julie and Leha stumbled out of the doorway. I almost had to pull my finger off the trigger with my other hand, they had come so close to being riddled with shot. They were both soot covered and gasping, huddled on their knees in their indoor clothes, but alive. It occurred to me that Leha's dormitory was down this end of our estate, and that the burning house they had just exited must have been it. I went over, weapon lowered.

"Are you okay?" I asked. The question startled them, as they finally noticed my presence, but their surprise turned to gladness very quickly.

"Sam, thank the Maker," said Julie, "What's happening?" Somehow, they weren't aware of how much shit we were in. That didn't bode well for asking them if they had seen how many were setting the fires in the first place, so I didn't bother.

"The Templars are here," I told them, keeping to the essential information, "Are you armed?" The pair looked around in fear for a moment, but found no plate-toting maniacs in sight. Leha shook her head at my question, her weapons going up in smoke with her house.

Julie grimaced, before finally standing up straight and pulling her handcannon off of her hip.

"We were in the basement, talking," Julie explained, holding up the weapon, "Didn't think we'd be fighting anyone, so I only have what's in this." So fifteen shots. Not exactly great news. I cursed loudly, and helped Leha up.

"Okay, here's the deal," I said, "Julie, shoot only when I'm reloading. Leha, find something to swing from all the dead fucks that are going to be around soon." The dwarf must have been a lot less perturbed on the whole 'Templars coming to kill us' thing, because she actually managed to look confused by the wording I had used. Julie was in her fight mindset at least. She wore the same face that she had when I had first stepped into her cell months earlier. Months that felt like years, as so much had happened. I thought to retreat again, now that I had seen this end and found nothing.

The clip-clop of horses hooves on stone got our attention, announcing the arrival of the Templars. They appeared from behind trees and out of the gloom at the end of the street, like ghosts wandering out of hidden crypts. Plate-armoured swordsmen and chain-mailed archers walked like ducks through the heavy snow and onto the cleared ground of our settlement. Leading them was a familiar bastard, showing up on horseback with an immense shit-eating grin on his face. I was very pleased to see him, because I didn't get to kill him the first time we had met. With that in mind, I raised my firelance to send him to the afterlife. Until he spoke.

"Parlay," said Knight-Captain Denam, grin undiminished.

"Shit," I said, lowering my weapon. Flags of truce were to be respected under Earth's international law, and I believed in that particular piece of it. Besides, it bought me time to figure out how many Templars there were. I highly doubted that splitting forces when assaulting a fixed position was part of the tactical thinking of the order. Or anyone else, for that matter.

Julie was less restrained, and raised her handcannon to shoot.

"Wait, he called a truce," I said, putting my hand on her arm, "Let him speak." Julie ground her teeth, but complied. The Templars stopped moving and formed a shieldwall about fifty yards away, which let her calm down a little.

"Well then, Marquis," Denam said, "When we met last, I was not aware of who you are and what your allegiances are. But now I am." The rumour mill had done its job. I really wish I could burn down the rumour mill and piss on the ashes.

"Well, that's not fair," I said sarcastically, "I don't know much about you, because I thought you were dead. How did you survive? Cowardice, no doubt." That touched a nerve, and the Knight-Captain's face screwed up with anger.

"I was forced to throw off my Templar colours and pretended to be a Tranquil, yes," he said, "But the day of reckoning has come."

"Doesn't it always," muttered Leha loudly, crossing her arms, "Reckoning is all your type are good for. Why don't you go home out of the snow and leave us be?" Denam shook his head, finding her suggestion absurd and offensive in equal measure. I thought it was rather good myself.

"Samuel Hunt, the so-called Peacekeeper and Marquis de la Fayette. Word has reached us of your true nature. Your powers could only come from one source," the Templar declared, "You are possessed, a demon made flesh. There is no other explanation. Whose body you inhabit, we do not know, but we shall free his soul from your grasp." By killing me, of course.

Julie scoffed, putting her palm on her head for a second. I was tempted to join her in the action. It wouldn't be the last time I would be called a demon, and Denam was far from the person of highest authority on the subject to say so, but as conclusions go, it's crap.

"He is no demon," she said, "I know."

Denam laughed loudly. "What, because you are sleeping with him? A whore's insight into the realm of the Fade isn't worth a copper," the Templar declared, "Besides, madamoiselle Marteau, you are in as much trouble as he is. Using Andraste's holy name to raise rebellion against the Chantry, not to mention the Empire of Orlais? You will hang."

Julie raised her handcannon again, keeping him centred. She held back her fire, for the moment. The hatred boiled off of her. I thought she was waiting for his next insult, so I cut in.

"What did you want to talk about, Denam?" I asked, "Or did you just come to threaten us with doom?"

The Knight-Captain sighed wearily, like we were simply a burden.

"You and the Qunari must die, and the mages must be returned to our … care," he said, "But there are many innocents that can be saved. Peasants who don't know any better. Surrender, you will be given trials rather than being killed here and now. The peasants will be spared and left to their own devices."

I considered the offer for only the briefest of moments. Escape from the Templars might have been possible, and there were many people who should not have been involved in this. On the other hand, Denam was a zealot, which was one of the few things I did know about him. He was far more likely to burn and pillage our entire community, kill the mages and 'peasants' alike, and then haul Julie, Tam and I off to Val Royeaux for some recreational torture before hanging.

"It's attractive, but I can't trust you as far as I can throw you," I replied, "Go fuck yourself."

Denam spread his lips wide, showing all his teeth in a snarling smile that I couldn't regard as fully human. I remember thinking the man had strange teeth, which is a strange thought to have at such a moment, but it was what it was. He turned his horse about and began to trot away.

"I was hoping you would say that," he said over his shoulder, "I was looking forward to gutting you."

Once again, I was too slow to kill him. The Knight-Captain raised his arm and dropped it again, signalling the attack. The line of Templar swordsmen advanced again, but that wasn't what put the fear of God into me. The hiss of arrows would soon join them, and I could just make out the figures behind, drawing their bows.

"Oh shit," I shouted, "Cover!"

Julie, Leha and I scrambled to find something, anything to hide behind, but there was practically nothing around except burning buildings. The heat prevented me from entering one I thought had been just safe enough. Leha ducked behind a barrel only large enough to cover her and no one else, certainly not a human or two. Julie tried to outpace the coming volley, sprinting away to avoid the area the arrows were to land in. The sound of shields being pounded, wood falling into the flames, all gave way to the sailing sound of the shots coming at us.

Our attempts to get away were unsuccessful. The arrows made their mark.

If it hadn't been for my armour, I would have been a pincushion. I was struck by no less than seven of the damned things. One struck me in the helmet to no great effect. Four hit me square in the chest, leaving nasty dents in the material under my fur coat but doing no other harm. I guess the Templars were used to fighting unarmoured opponents. Two more gouged nasty wounds on my right shoulder and left thigh, but they were glancing hits only, the arrows flashing past and bouncing off the ground behind me. Hurt like hell though. Wincing through the pain, and managed to steady my weapon.

I sent a burst or two at the coming Templars, stopping them cold. To my utter disgust and horror, they dispersed, hiding in the side streets or spreading out. Denam had me pegged from the beginning. Displeased by this discovery, I checked my wounds for a second and determined to use the time I had just bought.

I turned to the others, and found them in a very bad way.

Leha had an arrow in her arm, and was tugging it out when I saw her. She broke off the tip, and pulled the shaft out the way it had come. Not a pleasant thing, I imagined. I turned to find Julie, and found her on the ground a couple of yards back. She had two white-feathered arrows in her back below her ribs, and she wasn't moving.

My throat felt like someone had punched me. I struggled to breath, but used every remaining bit of air in my lungs to run over to Julie as fast as I could. I fell to my knees beside her, slung my firelance and grasped at her neck for a pulse. She coughed, rendering my action pointless. I sucked in the air greedily, as I fell to my ass with the relief.

"Can you get up?" I asked, "We really need to get out of here."

"It hurts!" Julie said, "Andraste help me!"

As if to illustrate my point, a couple of Templar archers appeared from various nooks and loosed some speculative shots at us. The arrows thudded off the ground and away, still encouraging us to get moving. I sent another burst chasing after the offending shooters, the muzzle flashes strobing light into the dark corners not lit up by the fires. There were more Templars moving around behind the intact buildings on either side of the street, along the edge of the parade ground and in the woods on the opposite side. Looking to surround us. I wasn't about to let them, and urged the others to hurry.

"We need to pull them out first," Leha said, gripping the first with her fist, "Get ready."

She pulled away each in quick order, Julie letting out shouts of pain. The sort I was very familiar with. Neither of the arrowheads got stuck inside her, thank God, but the bleeding was bad. I quickly gathered the bottom of her work shirt around the wound and retied her belt around the area. That would hold until we got back to the barricades, at least. I grabbed her hand to reassure her, but found it limp. She had passed out from the pain. I cursed.

"Leha, you know how to use this?" I asked, picking up Julie's handcannon, "If you do, shoot it at the bastards if they show their faces." I gave the dwarf the weapon, and as soon as she had it, she cracked off two rounds at a Templar I hadn't seen. It was one of the archers, a young one, and she fell dying and screaming. That would keep them away just long enough, and I had to give it to Leha, her accuracy was impressive. Beginner's luck, as it turned out.

I pulled the unconscious Julie up onto my back, slinging my weapon to the front of me and wrapping her arms around my shoulders. Grunting and heaving, I began walking back the way I had come as fast as I could, glad to be moving again. More arrows sailed by, alarmingly close, but their numbers were small enough to ignore. I picked up the pace as best I could regardless.

Leha punctuated the quiet of the night with shots from Julie's Beretta, but that didn't seem to be reducing the number of attacks that were coming.

"Are you hitting anything with that fucking thing?!" I shouted, "You're almost dry!" I had been counting her shots.

"Would you like to give it a try?!" Leha complained back, shooting her second-to-last round.

"Only if you want to carry her," I replied, knowing full well the dwarf was too small to pull it off, "It doesn't matter, we're here."

The sight of Soprano standing on the corner of a roof, her bow drawn and eyes sharp, was like the damned Second Coming to me. I knew we were saved. The Captain sent her first arrow the Templars way with cool precision, followed by the crossbow bolts and spells of another thirty or so. The barricade was nearly complete too. I rushed for it, feeling my strength boosted by the prospect of some temporary safety.

I moved through a gap in the middle, and Leha followed me through. Soprano barked the order to shoot the second volley, taking her own words to heart by loosing another arrow. I put Julie down on her stomach, and snatched a look. The Templar shield wall was reforming, now that I was out of sight and mind. It was moving slowly and carefully forwards. Satisfied we had a few minutes, I turned around to check on Julie, and found someone entirely unexpected kneeling over her, checking her wound.

"Back away, now," I said, raising my firelance from my hip at Delrin Barris, "Those are your buddies out there, they did this to her." The Templar was in full plate, sword at his waist, but had no indication of hostility. That drew some of my own away.

"I know. I came as soon as I heard. Your footman captain let me come here," he replied, following my command, "She needs a healer. I'll go get one." I felt like going back and shooting McNulty, but there was some method to his madness. At least now I had a ready source of information. Barris got up and called one of the mages on a roof. I checked on Julie again, as Leha took the Templar's place in making sure the wound had pressure on it. She was waking.

"Where are we?" she asked, "Is it over?" I shook my head, rubbing her hand with mine.

"We're in the residencies," I replied, "It's only been a few minutes." She tried to stand up, but failed, falling onto her stomach again. She cried in agony for a moment.

"Stay put, a healer's coming now," I said, as Barris led an older man over. The mage looked over the wounds, and began pouring magic into her without so much as a word. Julie seemed to relax as it happened, which was a good sign I thought, but the lack of prognosis was killing me.

"How bad is it?" I asked.

"Not your business," the mage replied impolitely, trying to concentrate, "Stop distracting me. Go fight, or none of us will survive." The backhand slap he was close to receiving would have stopped the healing process. I stopped myself, moved away. Barris and Leha joined me, waiting for my move. I sighed, and brought my radio mouthpiece to my mouth.

"This is La Fayette to McNulty," I said, "Report."

"We're almost ready to come relieve you, sir," McNulty said wearily in return, the sound of metal moving in the background of the transmission, "We need another five minutes."

Lightning flashes grabbed my eyes, the combat mages on the roofs above letting some of their more powerful tricks loose. Fireballs and ice spikes joined in. The Templars weren't close enough to use their abilities yet, though they were still pretty resistant to such attacks even at this distance. They were at about eighty yards and closing. Which was far too close for my liking, or Soprano's for that matter.

"We don't have five minutes," the captain of skirmishers said, both over the radio and to us from above, "There are hundreds of Templars, moving in from all sides now." That was better news than I had feared, because it meant we could still potentially win, but it was far worse than I had hoped.

"McNulty, secure the château," I said, "We'll come to you."

"Do you see any Orlesian banners up there?" Barris asked Soprano. The Captain shook her head.

"Seems to be just Templars, as far as I can tell," she said, "Besides, the Empress would send far more than this." Barris nodded, a smile on his face.

"That means that the Divine hasn't called for help," the Templar said, "Someone has launched this attack without Chantry authority." Which was a sliver of hope.

"Denam," I said, "He must have gone back and talked the survivors from Halamshiral into this."

"Or got independent leave from the Lord Seeker to act," Barris said, as if everyone knew what he was talking about, "But this still shouldn't be happening."

"Does that mean you're with us?" I asked, "Or do I have to throw you over that barricade as a hostage?" Barris found that amusing, smiling widely and drawing his sword.

"I'll fight for the honour of the Templars," he said, "The men and women out there are misguided, but they fight against it." Good enough for me. I readied my weapon again.

"Leha, move Julie to the château. Take the healer with you," I commanded, "Soprano, hold. Let the Templars get close, and prepare to loose a volley when you can smell them."

"Yes, Marquis," Soprano replied in clipped tone, before shouting the order herself to stop the pulling of triggers and the swinging of magical staffs. Leha and the healer tipped a cart that had been added to the barricade back onto its wheels, and manoeuvred Julie onto it carefully. I went over to her. I needed to say something to her. I wasn't sure if either of us would live through the next few hours. I had too many regrets to say silent.

I crouched down, so I could speak to her face to face. Tired green eyes looked at me, and my urge to get what I had off my chest increased tenfold.

"Listen, I'm sorry," I said, brushing her cheek, "You should fight for whatever you feel is right for your people, and I shouldn't tell you whether or not you should risk your life for something better." At that moment, I felt like I had taken away her right to do just that. She smiled warmly.

"You are forgiven," she replied, kissing my palm, "Thank you for everything." I had a dark feeling that she was saying that as her last words, but I was far too afraid to respond. She had been the first decent person I had met in Thedas, a wonderful woman with wit, charm and intelligence. Leaving her like this seemed like a crime, yet it had to be done.

"Marquis, they're here!" Soprano shouted.

I jumped up and looked, grabbing the grip of my firelance. The sound of wood being shoved onto the ground knocked around, followed by the sight of Templar swordsmen forcing their way through and over the barricade. Their shields were raised over their heads.

"Soprano, now!" I shouted, "Leha, get Julie to the château!"

Leha grabbed the handles of the cart at the front, the healer doing the same. Together, they took off through the snow, getting Julie out of the way. I could only spare a glance at this however, as the situation in front of me required far more attention.

The mages and soldiers above attacked the Templars below in a volley, spells and bolts impacting armour to little effect for the most part but finding their place against some unfortunates. The Templars fired arrows back from afar, or tried to climb up onto the roofs unsuccessfully. Barris grabbed one, surprising the man entirely and taking his life with a perfect stab under the breastplate. My fears about him switching sides in the face of the enemy were lifted, at least.

I could see that all the delaying that could be done was done. Time to withdraw.

"Retreat!" I ordered, "Barris, you too! To the château!"

The mages, the crossbowmen, Soprano and Barris all fled their posts, in that order. Those on the roofs clambered down with little difficulty onto piles of snow, and then away towards safety. However, without the constant shooting to slow them down, the Templars were emboldened. A great battlecry rose up from behind the barricade, and it was shattered seconds later in a great wave of human flesh and plate armour. A wave that came straight at me. It was terrifying.

However, mastering your fear is pretty much the first thing a soldier in combat has to do, and I had had plenty of practice.

I unleashed my heavy-firelance on the mass, shooting lines of tracers into the nearest before switching to the next. My barrel swept across the street at the troops coming at me. The plate armour didn't save any of them, and they lacked the magical barriers that had saved so many of White Mask's troops. Bullets pierced and ripped without mercy, tearing into guts and slicing open necks, with wet thuds. Bodies fell over each other, broken. Not something you forget. The tale of the slaughter I could personally unleash would get around in the years afterwards.

By the time I ran out of ammunition, the Templars had stopped coming, hovering at the corners of the buildings and stealing glances at me, waiting to see if the carnage was over. The barricade was a moving, moaning gallery of death. I feel immensely guilty about it today, and the reason for that is simple. At the time, I felt elation. A high of victory. I had conquered them. Those whom had done harm to one of my loved ones. I guess there was a certain masculine pride to it that is embarrassing to me today. Though I would do it again.

Knowing that the act of reloading would draw them in, I sprinted off towards the château. No arrows chased me this time, only the howling of the wind and the dying.

* * *

The château was well-prepared when I arrived, so much so that it almost killed me.

I was running at full tilt towards the entrance, finally breaking out of the street of residencies and back out onto the parade ground near the château. As the ground stretched almost as far as the street itself, I peered back to see if the Templars were following. They were, in large numbers and drawn up in formation. Deciding I needed to run faster, I spun back around to continue. A crossbow bolt whizzed by my ear, and I ducked. It had come from our own people. It was the last damned thing I needed.

"Stop shooting!" I shouted, making sure my radio was transmitting as well. I looked up at the château itself. The many windows on the second floor were full of wary looking men and women, crossbows ready to shoot. The same was true of the attic windows, though they had longbows instead. I picked myself off the ground, realising that I wasn't a target anymore, and ran as hard as I could to the archway.

Mike and McNulty appeared at the gate. They both appeared dishevelled from running about, probably from getting dressed too quick in the latter case, the Captain's hair was more messy than it usually was. They helped me in, before twenty or so of my soldiers closed them and began bracing the heavy wooden doors we had replaced the old ones with. I doubted it would be enough.

"Everyone is inside," McNulty reported, as we strode down the archway, "I've posted all our troops to either the windows or the garden. Lydia is in the attic with our best shots. The mages are going to stop any fires started and attend to the wounded, though the Knight-Enchanter insisted on having her people in the garden." I wondered who Lydia was, before recalling that he meant Soprano. Pleased he had done the best job I could have expected, I gave him a nod and a pat on the shoulder.

We entered the garden. McNulty's heavies and Velarana's battlemages were both around the edges, with the militia looking on with swords and shields. I recognised the standard of Duval on some of the shields, the Templar flaming-sword on others. Civilians mobbed around the square with nothing to do. The elderly and children, for the most part, as everyone else had picked up a weapon of some kind and was very much counted among the soldiery. There were now nearly two thousand people in the château, and there was still plenty of room to move about. A testament to its size, to say the least.

I realised that if the Templars got through anywhere, the garden would be the first place. The gates were just too vulnerable to hold. I ordered McNulty to move the non-combatants to the attic, the fear of fire a non-issue with so many mages around to put out anything the Templars tried to set ablaze. He saluted and ran off to talk with Velarana about getting it done.

I waited until he was gone, before turning to Leha.

"Where are they?" I asked, knowing she'd understand who I was talking about.

"Your room," she replied, "Armen and Ciara are up there too."

The dwarf brought me, via the courtyard stairs and through the inner corridor overlooking. Some of the doors to the rooms were open, showing the I stopped her before she opened the door, not sure whether or not I'd been saying goodbye. Clenching my jaw with nerves, I went in anyway.

The first people I noticed were Ciara and Armen at the left window, looking out at the advancing Templars, whom had lit torches. The light from outside reflected off them, revealing grim faces. They didn't turn from their watch, bow and staff in hand. They weren't who I was looking for, so my eyes searched elsewhere.

The bed had been moved further into the room, away from the windows, the headboard facing outwards almost so as to act as a shield from further mischief from outside. Tam stood, leaning over, her bow out so she could join the defence at a moment's notice. Julie lay splayed out on her stomach, clothing removed from her top half, backwards on the bed with her arms out wide, her head where her feet usually would lay and vice versa. She was sweating and wasn't moving, the bloody stain from the wounds made a mess far up her back and all over the bedsheets. The healer was beside her, hands glowing.

Julie wasn't awake and I expected the worst. I simply had to know how bad it was. I stepped ahead, coming to a wobbly stop beside the bed. Tam came around the bed and gave me a warm but short hug, before sitting down. That calmed me down a bit.

"How is she doing?" I asked quietly, the words sticking in my mouth a little. Which was a fair indication of how screwed up I was.

"She'd be doing a lot better if I wasn't interrupted every five minutes," the healer complained loudly, as he sealed the wound, "Shut up and sit down somewhere out of the way." Piece of shit had a lot of work to do on his bedside manner, though he was clearly skilled at the technical aspect of his trade. As much as anyone in Thedas was, which wasn't saying much.

His complete dismissal set me off like I was the god damned Guns of the Navarone. With a sort of cold callous disregard for his opinion, I pulled my handcannon from its holster, cocked it and flicked the safety off. I levelled the barrel at the man's face. He looked up at the weapon blankly, almost without interest, his hands' glow dying out. I had his attention and intended to keep it.

"That wasn't a request," I said venomously, "There are six hundred other mages in this building, including one in this very room, so I suggest you answer the fucking question!"

"Sam..." Leha said, trying to calm me down. That just made things worse.

"Shut up," I snapped at her. Tam moved closer to me again, putting her arms around me to try and soothe my rage. Violet eyes pierced me, telling me to restrain myself. A Qunari Tamassran trick I would learn later, and one she pulled on other occasions. One she only ever did for Julie and I. The Qunari take leave of their senses far more easily than we humans, or so everyone keeps telling me. She didn't touch my outstretched arms or get in my way, and what she did worked. My blood settled a little.

"Fine," the healer said, "Since you're so determined to risk her life for a report, you can have one. I had to put her into a deep sleep. The damage to her tissues can be healed easily, but the wounds were so deep that the fevers may kill her anyway. Satisfied?" His demeanor still made me want to riddle him with bullets, but he had given way. He returned to his work, hands glowing again.

A huge pang of guilt for what I had just done washed over me, but I gulped it down quickly. I wasn't the time for this. I holstered my weapon quickly, detached myself from Tam and walked around the bed to a startled Ciara and a concerned Armen.

The Templars had stopped, and were preparing a makeshift battering ram, balancing large shields on the sides of a cart and adding a prow made of a felled tree to it. The torches swayed in the wind menacingly, and I could tell none of our opponents were happy to be caught outside by their huddling together. My mind raced to decide what I could do to stop them. How I could break up their plans and send them running for their lives. Aside from wasting all my ammunition, I was coming up a little short. Which pissed me off.

Luckily, Armen was on hand to remind me of something. "What happened out there?" the mage asked, moving aside for Leha carrying a chair and her crossbow.

"Templars tried to talk to us," the dwarf said, "It didn't go well." A succinct and accurate answer if ever there was one.

My mind moved to thoughts of Knight-Captain Denam, and what a colossal turd he was. And yet, I couldn't help but wonder how he had managed to rally so many to fight. Evidently, he had pull with someone. I sensed an opportunity.

"What matters now is fending them off," I said, "We need to cut the head off the snake."

I knelt by the bed again, reaching underneath and unclasped the metal box strapped to the underside, before dragging it out. Inside were the tools I thought I might need at a moment's notice. My last remaining Claymore mines, six of them. A standard firelance with a couple of magazines for it. A bandolier of grenades. A bayonet. Other bits and pieces. Leha and the healer had a peek, probably wondering just what the hell most of it was. They were about to get a small demonstration.

I removed the precision firelance, with its telescopic sight, and a flaregun.

With no small amount of anger-induced gusto, I grabbed another chair, dragged it to the window beside Leha and Ciara, and sat down. I set down my heavy firelance, throwing its strap over my head, lay the sniper weapon across my lap and popped open the flaregun. I began whistling _Yankee Doodle_ as I shoved the illumination flare into its place.

"Right, let's get this party started," I said to no one in particular, "Armen, I think you'll enjoy this most of all." The mage cocked his head to the side.

I aimed the flaregun from my chair up into the sky, and pulled the trigger. The effect was immediate and spectacular. A bright white star hissed from the barrel, and flew up into the overcast sky, spilling brilliant light over the entirety of our settlement, parade ground included. The Templars' full numbers were easily visible now, and there had to be at least a thousand. Perfect, I thought.

I tossed the now empty flaregun to the side, and picked the precision firelance off of my lap. I rested it on the windowsill, its bipod up, and reloaded it as utter chaos broke out below me. Our archers must have taken the flare as a signal to begin shooting, as a volley thumped into the Templars. It was with no small degree of grim satisfaction that I watched a gratifying number go down screaming, as I sighted my weapon.

The flare would only keep its light for a few moments, so I quickly searched the rear of the Templar formation for who I was looking for. A mounted man, with neck length hair, a pocked-face and a dirty sneer. It wasn't very hard to find him. As I expected, Denam was in the back with about twenty other mounted Templars, watching the carnage. He was shouting something as I put my crosshairs onto him. He was at about four hundred yards, almost halfway down the parade ground.

I took the shot, the firelance roaring a bright flame as it sent the bullet away.

Denam got caught on the left side of the upper torso, the bullet passing through his armoured breastplate with ease. I doubt it would have been so had I used any of my other weapons, barring the missile I had stowed in the basement. Alas, his body slumped over the front of the saddle, and he fell off of his horse to the ground. I smiled widely.

"Goodbye forever, you bastard!" I shouted out into the night. Step one complete.

The others looked on in shocked fascination. Not even the most skilled archer could have accomplished the feat, so not exactly surprising there. Tam even looked a bit jealous as I put the weapon back in its box, and recovered its heavy, rapid-fire cousin. The Templars were far from as complimentary.

As I took up my position again, a hail of arrows came through both windows. Two stuck in the floor next to the bed, three bounced off the wall nearest me, a few more hit the bookcase. _Travels in Ferelden Volume II_ took the brunt of the latter's damage, to Julie's dismay when she discovered it. Not one to let an insult go unpunished, I aimed my weapon again.

"Start shooting," I ordered.

"Didn't need to ask," Ciara replied from the other window.

So we proceeded.

The flarelight died, so I flicked down the heat-vision device over my eye to see what was going on. Templars were beginning to roll their battering ram forwards at an impressive speed, steered precariously but more or less towards the archway connecting directly with the open space they were on. Their own archers were attempting to provide cover, keeping up a steady barrage of volleys, no matter how many casualties it cost them. My own people were shooting back at them, rather than at the battering ram, and I saw the danger immediately.

I shifted my weight on my chair, and sent hot lead down at them.

Tracers ripped into the metal-covered wooden shields like it was paper, and six bodies appeared in the wake of the wagon. They rolled over, close enough for me to see that they had caught bullets and splinters in places ranging from the thigh to the face. Which I should have been pleased to see, except that the damned thing kept on rolling towards the archway almost entirely on its own. There couldn't have been more than two people left pushing it, but the momentum it had built up was going to be enough.

The ram slammed to a stop against the archway gate, and the Templars gave a raucous cheer in triumph, before rushing forward with their torches and what I can only presume were buckets of tar. Considering that I couldn't just drop explosives onto them, my gut turned as I realised they were certain to get inside. The close quarters fight wasn't in my favour, and I was just as likely to shoot my own people if things got mixed up. I stood up and against the wall between the windows for a moment, thinking on what to do.

"Close the shutters," I said, not wanting more arrows to come through. Good thing too, as they came just as Tam and Ciara finished doing as I had commanded. I knew I wasn't going to be much good in my bedroom, but I was reluctant to leave Julie. I glanced over at her, and my eyes fell upon my remaining mines. A plan formed.

I rushed over, slinging my firelance as I did so, and picked the mines up.

"Tam, Ciara, Leha, with me," I said quickly, "Armen, stay here and protect Julie. At all costs." The last few words meaning I didn't care if he had to summon fifty demons to accomplish it, no one was to harm her. He got the picture, and gave me a solemn nod.

We left the room and into the corridor, which was a little more crowded now. There were wounded sitting about on stools, with arrows in their shoulder or arms. As we passed towards the stairs, the sight of a dead girl with an arrow in her eye greeted us. I paused, very briefly, before cursing under my breath. I had gotten her killed, after all.

I made a beeline for McNulty and Velarana as soon as we were in the garden, waving them towards me. Their people were in good order now, formed up on each of the archways to attack the Templars in the bottlenecks. Swords and shields at the ready, mages with their magical blades formed. They came over with confidence on their faces, even as the battering ram banged at the north gate. I was glad to see their nerves were intact, but then, they couldn't see the mass of Templars trying to get in.

"Change of plan," I said, "We're going to let the Templars in."

The two looked at me like I was insane.

"Marquis, I do not think that is wise," said McNulty diplomatically, "If we hold them at the gate, we'll be able to maximise the cost to them before they even get to here." Which was entirely the correct strategy if we only had primitive weapons at our disposal. However, our arsenal was considerably more advanced than that of our opponents, and they could not anticipate all of the variables as a result.

"Pull your people back behind the small enclosure walls," I continued, "When the time comes, you charge."

"Charge into what?" Velarana asked, "A solid wall of Templar swords?"

"You'll see," I said flatly, "Now clear that archway." I pointed to the north gate, having made it clear that I meant immediately. The Knight-Enchanter and the Captain walked away to do just that. It's nice to be understood perfectly.

While the soldiers filed out of the archway, I began setting up. Tam recognised what I was doing, and put a hand on my shoulder.

"Sam, are you sure?" she asked, "Would those not bring down the building?" I was preparing the mines, high explosives, after all. I thought about it for a moment. The château looked like a well-made stone structure, but I wasn't an engineer. I supposed that the explosions could weaken things, but it might not. There wasn't much choice any way. I could see that the gate was beginning to buckle from where I was standing.

"It'll be okay," I said. Tam accepted that, though I should have added 'hopefully' to qualify it.

In a minute, I had set up the mines at intervals on both sides of the archway, facing outwards. McNulty's men were crouched behind the little walls that surrounded the garden's flowerbeds. Velarana and her mages had erected magical shields around themselves. We were ready. So were the Templars.

The gate began to smoke, set ablaze to weaken it as the ram struck again and again. The wooden began to come apart, splintering along its length, the intersection between beams widening with each strike of the ram. I ran to join Tam and Ciara behind one of the little garden walls, and took the detonators in both hands.

The Templars finally succeeding in bisecting the wooden bar that kept the whole gate intact, and the fiery pieces swung on their hinges aside. The Templars gathered to rush the archway.

"Soprano, try not to shoot us as we leave the gate," I said over the radio, "Anyone near a window might want to back off."

The enemy charged. Shield-bearers led the way, defences up and barely able to see. Behind them, I could make out the regular swordsmen. Step by step, they moved through the archway towards me. Past the little green boxes, tucked in behind the supporting arches. One almost felt sorry for them. Almost.

"Fire in the hole!" I shouted. Ducking down, I depressed the triggers as the Templars were just about to exit into the garden.

The explosion threw hot air and dust over me, its boom amplified by the acoustics of the archway. The glass panes of the inner windows rattled violently, and the ones directly opposite smashed, sending glass spinning away from them. The mages' shields flickered with blue sparks. The smell of blood and burning flesh hit my nostrils, overwhelming my senses for a second. It was not a pleasant sensation.

I stood up, firelance aimed off the hip.

The Templars were a smoking heap of flesh and metal, some of its still moving but not likely to stay that way. They had been wall-to-wall when they had reached the end, and they fell exactly as they had stood; in ranks. The effects of the shrapnel, the tearing and rending of flesh, had been joined by an exaggerated blast effect courtesy of the enclosed space. The result was the least pretty sight I had seen thus far. I looked on in unexpected horror, as did those beyond in the parade ground.

I looked at the Templars and the Templars looked at me. Their faces turned from horror to vengeful, and I remembered that I had reason to be so as well.

"Velarana," I said.

"Yes, Marquis," she said.

The Knight-Enchanter powered up her spirit blade, and waved her fellows forward. The group ran to the archway, spotted the Templars, and charged. The whole group Fade-stepped over the piles of corpses, no hesitation evident from their backs, and began fighting the Templars in close with staff-magic and magical sword.

"Shall we follow, Marquis?" McNulty asked, not enthused by the idea. Probably because doing so would mean half-wading through dead people. However, the mages would be overwhelmed if we didn't do so.

"With me!" I shouted, "Keep together!"

I broke into a run. Through the archway. Over the two hundred and thirteen bodies. We counted later.

My boots were inundated with blood, but despite several instances where I nearly slipped or tripped over, I made it to the exit. Tam and Ciara managed to follow with me, though Leha hadn't. McNulty and his big guys were close behind, practically kicking the corpses out of their way as they came through. I examined the scene before me.

Velarana's charge had made a nice mess of the Templar arrangements. Mages and Templars fought almost individual battles, the hundred or so mages taking on only a single opponent at a time, blocking off others with delaying attacks or erecting walls of ice and fire to stop them from coming. Why the Templars simply did not dispel the magic, I didn't know at the time. I thought about it aloud, not expecting I would get a response.

"Their discipline is broken," said Barris, approaching from behind with McNulty, "Without a calm mind, the process to dispel magic is impossible."

"I can hardly blame them for lacking a calm mind after that display," McNulty added, indicating back to the archway with his head, "Let's get at them." Tam gave the signal to enter the fray by drawing her longsword and dagger, and led the general advance. I followed, trying to keep to the edge of the melee, where I could best use my tools and talents.

I don't remember much about what happened after that.

It was a large blur, possibly the result of what happened afterwards, but what I can recall is a complete lack of any sensible battle line. I shot dozens of men, but had to be careful, as bullets do tend to travel through and through. Dozens of ours were cut down. Sixty, to be exact, mostly the less experienced mages that we couldn't get to in time. Most of the Templar heavies were dead in the archway, so McNulty's troops were at a great advantage against the more lightly armoured survivors. The Templar continued to shoot up at the château, unable to shoot at us for fear of missing and hitting their comrades, until we closed in and they fled.

The archers fleeing started the general rout. About five hundred Templars had remained standing, the rest dead, wounded or surrendered, and they took to their heels. I called for our people to hold back, to let them flee. The survivors would have had only one conclusion to draw; that we had let them live. I hoped that would send a powerful message to their masters. We stood by and watched their backs, letting them go.

It was not to be.

The sound of a horn announced the presence of someone else in the woods. The Templars stopped dead near the end of the parade ground, looking to each other and gathering together. That told me they had no idea who was there, and it scared the living shit out of me when I began to hear horse hooves in no small numbers. Shapes began moving in the forest.

"McNulty, close formation!" I barked, "Prepare to repel cavalry!"

"CLOSE FORMATION!" he roared. The heavies moved forwards and fell in, kneeling down with their shields together. Those behind unslung crossbows, cocked them and loaded bolts before aiming them. Those in front kept their blades and spears out, pointing them forwards. They'd wait until whatever was coming came very close. Tam approached me, trying to say something about the horn calls, but she was cut off.

A dragon made of fire burst from the treetops.

Soundlessly, it flew above the canopy and glided towards the Templars. I recoiled in fear, my mind dragged back to the crash-site and Fraser's men.

In fairness to our foes, they scattered at the sight of the thing like it had been an order rather than a fear reflex, but it didn't matter. The result was as if they had been napalmed. The dragon crashed right into them, but rather than the fire disappearing or simply igniting as I had seen fire spells do before, the flames stuck to them like they had been dunked in pitch and set alight.

Hundreds of human candles ran about, screaming their lungs out until their lungs gave out. Those that weren't caught ran off in different directions, and the thumping of cavalry moving to intercept them rumbled from all around us. The smell of cooking flesh blew towards us, like bacon mixed with burning clothes. It was disgusting. I didn't know what to do, other than wait for the next fight.

"Mages, barriers," Velarana growled, "If that spell hits us without them, we're all dead."

I was briefly covered in blue, but the effect shattered like glass in an instant. It was quite noticeable too, as many eyes tracked to me as a result. I sighed wearily, and turned to the Knight-Enchanter with a shrug.

"This immunity isn't all good news," I said to her, "I'll stand in front."

"I'm going with you," Tam said immediately. I knew there was no point arguing. I pointed for Ciara to remain behind however. Armen would never forgive me if I got her killed. She obeyed, though with a pout.

I stepped forward a dozen yards in front of our formation, Tam beside me. She switched quickly to her bow, as more shapes began moving. I admit to flinching as well. Not as much as I did when I saw what came out into the open.

Lights began flicking on, revealing those hiding. They were mages, which was obvious because the lights were definitely not torches. They had a blueish-green hue. There were banners too, though I couldn't make out what was on them. The wind had died down. The newcomers were all mounted, but not in a way I had ever seen before. They were mounted on dracolisks, which is exotic to someone from Thedas but utterly disturbing to someone from Earth. It looked to me like they were riding four-legged velociraptors. I took a step back, the urge to run the fuck away beating down on me like a ton of bricks. Once again, Tam stopped me.

"Tevinter," she said, hardly believing her own eyes.

Not sure if I had heard her correctly, I stepped forward again.

"What, you mean the slavers?" I asked, "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely," Tam replied, not moving her eyes from the approaching thirty or so mages.

"What do we do?" I asked, "Are they here to kill us?" Tam was the resident expert on the subject of the Imperium after all, having helped to fight Tevinter for years. The Qunari simply shook her head however.

"I don't even know why they're here," she said, "How are they this far south!"

The 'Vints approached at a swift but casual pace, displaying no sign of hostility. Almost none of them seemed to be armed with any physical weapons, only staffs. That made me more confident, given that they couldn't hurt me, though what they were riding probably could. The one person who was armed with a sword was an old man, dressed in what would pass for a jester costume on Earth, in dark colours. He was clearly in charge too, as some of those around him kept looking to him as if waiting to be instructed.

The old man said something, and the group stopped dead. The lizard-mounts hissed a little, but complied. He approached us on his own, until he was close enough to talk without shouting. The wind died down suddenly, which was a little disturbing.

"That's close enough," I said to him, holding my hand up for him to halt. He rode forward a few more steps, until I got a hold of my firelance's grip. That got him stopping very fast, which intrigued me. He had some idea that it was a weapon, evidently.

"Are you the Marquis de la Fayette?" he asked with a warm smile on his face, illuminated by the tip of his staff, "The Peacekeeper?"

I wondered if my reputation could have possibly spread as far as Tevinter in a month. In fact, it didn't need to. Still, my curiosity did get the better of me.

"I am," I replied, "What is it to you?"

The man's smile got bigger, like he had found an old friend. That was very strange to me. I frowned back at him, which didn't stop him in the slightest.

"I am Titus Tiberius Pansa, military attaché with the Tevinter ambassador to Orlais. I've been looking for you," he said, "Or rather, someone like you."

"Someone like me?" I asked, "What, a peacekeeper?" The way he had said it made me think he wanted something from me. I sincerely hoped he didn't plan to ask me to try and fight the Qunari on behalf of the Imperium.

"A person of unique talents," the old man replied, "We have much to discuss, you and I." That set off all the warnings in my head. I raised my firelance by reflex. He chuckled.

"I don't intend to be your stooge, or your experiment," I growled. He held his hands up, still laughing to himself a little.

"I don't intend to make you one or the other," he replied, "I have something entirely else in mind. May we talk inside? The South really is cold in winter." He rubbed his gloved hands together, as if to illustrate the issue. I tilted my head, leaning towards telling him to go eat a boot somewhere. Yet again, Tam intervened.

"Why should we trust you?" she said, "You're Tevinter."

The old man's smile died, probably because he recognised what Tam was. She did have a helmet on, after all, so the only way she was going to be recognised was if someone looked a little more closely. That pissed me off a little, even though it was a fair presumption.

"I see the Qunari have already gotten to you," he said, his smile returning, "But I doubt you will be running off to Par Vollen any time soon, or you would have done so already."

"I am no longer a follower of the Qun," Tam replied, before I could say anything, "Now answer the question. Why should we trust you?"

The old man nodded, conceding the point. "Perhaps I have something that can convince you," he said, before he began rummaging around in a large saddlebag strapped to the rump of his dracolisk. The mount stared at me with glowing orange eyes, inspecting me as a piece of meat. I took another step back, coming level with Tam. It didn't seem at all bothered by the cold, which seemed strange to me. Of course, they're related to dragons, only the worst cold would bother them.

A minute later, and the old man had a cloth in his hands.

"Perhaps this will convince you," he said, beginning to unfurl it. I was barely paying attention at first, his mount's dead-eyed stare distracting me, but when I returned my full gaze to what he was doing, my jaw almost fell off my head. He held out the cloth in front of him, like it was a prize. I suppose to him, it was.

It was a large flag, and one immediately familiar to me. A red sun centred on a white field, with red sunbeams streaming out of it in all directions. The war flag of the Imperial Japanese Army. A flag from seventy-five years in the past, from Earth. I knew then that I had to speak to him.

"Okay, Titus Tiberius Pansa," I said, lowering my firelance, "You have my attention."

The old man smiled again.

"Please, call me Tiberius," he said to me.

* * *

 _AUTHOR'S NOTE: We're really getting moving now! Another faction steps out of the shadows._

 _Special shout out to Drgyen for continuing to update the TV Tropes page he made for this._

 _ **Drgyen:** Julie is essentially a Da Vinci-Einstein level genius, which does tend to help._

 _ **Tactus501st:** Amazingness flows._

 _ **5 Coloured Walker:** Cannons aren't that hard. I'm sure even Orlais can make them. It's the formula for gunpowder that's really holding them back._

 _ **IComeAnonymously:** Thanks for reading, I'm glad you enjoy it. _

_Minor spoiler alert for Trespasser DLC beyond this point..._

 _Regarding Qunari blackpowder, Trespasser has the formula as part ataashi venom, part deathroot, part powdered silverite ore. Real formulae are a mix of sulphur, charcoal and saltpetre. The ataashi is a dragon that spits yellow-green venom. We can assume what the Qunari collect from it is a highly concentrated sulphuric compound, because the other two ingredients fit other parts of the real formula. In reality, the best charcoal for gunpowder comes from small bush-like plants. I assume that deathroot is what the Qunari use to make the charcoal. The silverite ore is probably where the saltpetre comes from, possibly as a by-product. I find it interesting that the Qunari do use a dragon as a source of sulphur, because it suggests they don't have an independent supply. The largest source would be the pits in the far-south, funnily enough._

 _So, there's no need for retcons on the blackpowder issue._

 _When I was referring to technology limits in the last chapter, I was referring not to the chemistry of explosives but the weapons they'd be used in. You can't really make weapons beyond rifled, Minié-ball firing flintlocks without more modern industrial tools. Sam is very much aware of the explosives you've mentioned, that's not really the problem. Julie can't make modern bullets, or even percussion-caps, without industrial processes that are as yet unavailable to her._

 _WP is illegal for use in civilian areas and against civilians, and is of highly dubious legality against enemy combatants due to its chemical effect. At present, it is classed only as an incendiary weapon like napalm. Remember that Sam is from the near-future as well. I doubt a UN peacekeeping force would be allowed to use WP against enemy combatants. Tracers don't count in this regard, because they're for illumination. Same goes for smoke grenades, they're for cover._


	23. Chapter 23: The Truth

**Chapter Twenty-Three: The Truth**

Our troops nervously escorted the Tevinter delegation and I to the château. It turned out the horsemen in the woods were a mix of magical soldiers, and mercenaries from the Free Marches paid to escort the 'Vints and fight on their behalf. They set up camp on the parade ground, leaving me to wonder just what sort of country Orlais was if it let foreign powers operate so freely on its soil. Of course, that is a harsh evaluation. It was the middle of a particularly bad winter, and the nobles who could have intervened were in Halamshiral.

While my mind burned with a desire to interrogate Tiberius and his mages, all of whom were dressed like armoured clowns or jesters to my eye, I had a more pressing concern. Julie's injuries were still very much at the forefront of my attentions, and Tam shared that sentiment entirely. Both of us hurried off after we had agreed to allow the meeting to take place without much more words.

McNulty's people were set to dealing with the dead, stripping armour and weapons, dragging the large number of corpses out of the north archway. Both the delegation and ourselves avoided that route, entering via the western passage instead. The stench of blood and guts was extremely pungent in the air regardless, and I found myself retching a little as we entered the garden. I reminded myself to have the mages purge the passageways with ice and fire.

The garden itself was a hive of activity. Wounded people were being moved up, and the civilians were being moved down from the upper levels again, helped by Soprano's people. Soldiers with their longbows slung carried stretchers or held people by the shoulder as they ascended the stairs on one side. On the other, startled children were pulled along by their relieved parents, most of whom were still armed themselves. Their resilience was impressive.

The Captain herself was with Mike, waiting to report in the middle of the four paths that crossed the inner courtyard. Knowing I wouldn't be climbing past the evacuation of the attics, I walked over to them. They saluted, and I quickly returned the gesture, calming my heart's desire to tear through the crowd to the bedroom.

"We've sent people to watch over the woods," said Soprano, her eyes flicking quickly to the Tevinter delegation, "Everyone else is helping people get back to their homes." Pleased that she had taken control in such a competent fashion, I nodded approvingly.

"Excellent work," I replied, "Anyone who lost their home to the fires can sleep here, as long as there's room. I'm sure the wounded will need space." There was no shortage of WIA, and the healers were already at it. There was a strange hum in the air, if you strained your ears to hear it over the other activity.

"What about the Tevinter mages?" Barris asked. The Templar looked at the subject of his worries with nearly unrestrained hate, but his eyes were full of worries when they moved to me. Considering he had seen what I could do, I found the question a little pointless. If they started trouble, I intended to end them. Furthermore, it seemed to me that the 'Vints themselves knew what I could do, and looked like they were behaving.

Unfortunately, the Templar had spoken within earshot of others.

"What about them?" said Tiberius, in a mixed tone of curiosity and contempt. Which coupled with his haughty, Tevinter accent was a bit amusing. Not unlike the clothing he was wearing, which was revealed to be a deep blue colour, but still looked like something more suitable for the circus than the Magisterium. I swear, before I came along, the entirety of Tevinter looked like a funeral procession or a colourful farce. Earth fashion being an unintended consequence of my arrival, albeit a later one.

Barris was far from shy about expressing his concern either. "Unlike the mages here, you've been taught to misuse your abilities," he said, "It's dangerous, even with the Marquis' presence." Perhaps it would have been. The unspoken objection was obvious, of course. Barris was displeased to have mages associated with the Imperial Chantry around, mages who did not submit to the Divine of its southern cousin. We had no 'hedge' mages nor Tevinter-born ones, so even the Libertarians' attitude towards magic was restrained, which helped later but bred contempt for those who didn't share the opinion.

"I am a magister," Tiberius smiled, while seeming threatening nonetheless, "I have come for an extremely important purpose, and all of my subordinates know it. They would not defy me and live." He turned to walk away.

"And besides, we both know that the Marquis could quite comfortably kill us all himself," the old man said, before striding away to talk to his people. My eyebrow raised itself. It seemed to me like he was putting a lot of faith in unverified reports. He wasn't, in fact.

Barris stormed off on his own to talk to Velarana, presumably about being prepared to fight the 'Vints if it came to it. Annoyed by his behaviour, but not wishing to have an argument about it, I let him go. Leha approached, hands behind her head and a scowl on her face.

"We're lucky all of this happened when it did," she said, kicking a stone away, "Otherwise we'd be set back a huge number of coins as well as the people we lost. Should've been more careful." I hmmed my agreement with that. Measures would have to be taken.

"It's been a terrible night," Ciara said, "I'm getting sick of seeing so much blood." That sent a bolt of guilt through me. I turned away from her, not wanting to meet her eyes.

"Get used to it," Tam replied, "All three of us know where Julie is taking us. Orlais will come, and we will fight." Leha nodded, moving her hands to her hips.

"For someone who wrote a thing called 'common sense', she sure doesn't seem to have a lot of it," the dwarf mused, "She's a genius for pity's sake, could make herself as rich as an Antivan prince if she wanted to." I wasn't sure just how rich that was, but it was true nonetheless. Leha would steer her towards it at every opportunity, which actually benefited Julie's less mercenary motivations to a considerable degree. Adam Smith would be proud to hear it, I think.

"Do me a favour," I said to Leha, "Distract the Tevinter people while we go see her? And go see a healer yourself for Christ's sake." Leha smiled, having a look at the wound she received by an arrow. It didn't seem to be bothering her too much, though she winced when she turned the arm too quickly. Ciara stuck out her tongue between her teeth with disgust, not wanting to think about being stuck like the dwarf had. They quickly departed, Ciara dragging Leha towards the nearest mage. Which happened to be Velarana.

Tam and I climbed the stairs and bolted through the corridors, which were clear of people now, at a near-sprint. It was hard, considering that the floors were wet and muddy from the traffic they had seen in the hour before, but we managed. Together, we burst into our bedroom.

Julie was still unconscious and sweating still more profusely on the bed, her upper body covered with a light blanket. The healer was on a stool beside her, observing with a studied and neutral expression, but not doing his magical thing. Armen was by the right-side window, looking out at the Tevinter camp as we entered before moving towards the bed when he noticed us. His face looked grim, and I prayed it was only because he distrusted the 'Vints.

"How is she?" I asked.

The healer looked up at us, and frowned deeply. A finger stuck out towards Tam.

"You," he said, "Clean yourself up." The finger moved to a bucket and cloth at his feet. Tam was covered in gore, having hacked no small number of Templars to death with sword and dagger a little while earlier. Understandably, that wasn't the best thing around a sick person. The Qunari obeyed, wasting no time in beginning to strip off, dumping her bloodstained Earth-panoply by the doorway and taking off the undershirt, leaving her exposed from the waist up and still covered in blood. She began to clean herself. The mere suggestion that her state could have harmed Julie's recovery was enough to send her into action. Strangely, I felt a sense of pride about her.

The healer turned back to Julie.

"The Marquise's flesh is fully healed," he said, placing a hand on Julie's forehead to check her temperature, "But I fear the fever will be worse than I had predicted before. The arrow may have been deliberately dirtied to encourage this. There is nothing I can do but wait, and occasionally apply my arts to relieve her. It is best if she stays asleep for this process."

Disbelieving the man as he had said exactly what I didn't want to hear, I looked to Armen for confirmation. He was the closest thing to an expert on magic that I knew I could rely on, and if there was a slim chance to help, I knew he'd know about it. The mage inclined his head, indicating that he was with the healer on this. I clenched my fist. I would have to use the antibiotics we had brought from Earth, something so valuable as to be utterly priceless. I turned to leave, to run to the basement to retrieve the medicine as fast as my legs could carry me, but was confronted by the sight of Tiberius standing just outside in the corridor.

The magister strolled into the room, staff tapping off the floor in sync with his footsteps, every sign of interest in what was going on over his face. His eyes went from right to left, scanning everyone in the room. Armen and the healer backed away as they caught his gaze, so uncomfortable with his presence they both were. Julie wasn't exactly in any position to react. Yet. I crossed my arms to display my displeasure. Finally, his eyes came to rest on the bare-breasted Tam, who had frozen in place half way through scrubbing with a frown on her face.

Tiberius smirked, and his head swivelled back to the patient on the bed.

"I presume this is the infamous Julie Marteau," he said, moving level with me, "I was hoping to meet her, just so I could have something to talk about with those extremely tedious Orlesian courtiers that seem to inhabit every corner of their Winter Palace."

Tam found her curved dagger from somewhere and took a pace forward, but I was able to forestall her in time. She growled to herself, retreating to near the cabinet and beginning to get dressed again. Glad I had stopped her, I breathed a sigh of relief before turning back to the magister.

"Well, she's a little busy almost dying right now," I said sarcastically, "The Templars wounded her."

"I can see that. Without further treatment, she will most likely die," he said, not taking my hostility to heart, "Perhaps I can help." Surprised he would offer, I felt a surge of hope after the grave prognosis he had given seconds before. He was an extremely powerful mage. I wasn't thinking particularly straight. Neither was Tam. Her grip on my arm to warn me relieved itself instantly.

"That would be great," I said quickly, "What do you need?"

The question brought a strange, almost troubled expression in return. He glanced at the healer disapprovingly, like he knew there would be trouble. That should have been the first clue, but I wasn't a magical theorist or a mage myself. The healer scowled back, but seemingly too afraid to say anything. Tiberius did dominate the room like that, in a way I've only ever seen Julie or the Empress Celene accomplish. Helped that he was an inch taller than I was, I guess.

"Clear the room," he replied at last, "Other than that, I have everything I need."

"I'm staying," Tam said immediately, in a fashion that would brook no counterpoint.

"So am I," Armen added, almost as an afterthought.

That wasn't what I wanted to hear.

"Get out," I said through my teeth to both mages, "Now." The healer responded quickly, already well aware of how quickly my wrath would grow a hole in his head. Armen looked at me with sadness, one born of pity at the extent I wanted to see Julie awake and healthy again. My soul wasn't fully my own anymore, I have to admit. Too many things had happened, and I had shared them all with both Tam and Julie.

Of course, the only way I could have removed Tam was by shooting her and I knew I had no right to ask that of her in the first place. Besides, if it all went wrong, she was the only person I would have been able to be with. So she stayed. At an arm's distance to the magister, no less, dagger at the ready. I was grateful that she hadn't complained about the others leaving.

Tiberius for his part had respectfully lowered his head, waiting for that business to be over with, before closing the doors and locking them. He moved to the side of the bed, and produced a long needle from a pocket in his tunic. Thinking it was for Julie, both Tam and I flinched to our weapons, but he held it in his palm while he took off one of his warm winter gloves, revealing a well manicured hand. We relaxed.

"I would appreciate if you didn't tell your mages or any local clerics about what you're going to see," Tiberius said, bringing the pin between his thumb and his forefinger, "It would not benefit anyone, not least yourselves." He removed the blanket covering Julie, and grimaced at the arrow wounds.

Before I could respond, Tiberius poked himself gently but firmly on his wrist opposite, drawing a small stream of blood. I could only wonder what the hell he was trying to do. My first thought that he intended to do a blood transfusion, which would probably have helped considering Julie had lost some blood, but how it was meant to fight an infection was beyond me. I recoiled as he squeezed the wound, drawing still more out.

"What are..." I started, but was interrupted as he began to weave magic.

The blood poured from his wrist and formed a snake like formation, hovering in the air above Julie and glowing. It grew and grew, until he sealed the wound magically with a small gasp of pain. Tam looked shell-shocked, whereas my confusion was complete. How did this help Julie, I could not help but think. I would be joining Tam in shock soon enough.

The snake coiled itself, the 'head' turning into a thin spike not unlike that of the pin used to draw it out, and shot towards Julie's back sharply. It buried itself between her wounds, entering fully and disappearing leaving only a small bruise. I couldn't believe my eyes. The magister wasn't done yet.

Tiberius placed his bare hand on her back, and a red glow emanated from it of the sort I associated with healing. The glow seemed to extend through Julie's skin from the spot he touched, until it covered her whole body. I looked closer, and could see that it was patterned as if it was following her veins and arteries. The realisation clicked in my head. The magister was using blood magic.

As I stepped around the bed to stop him, Tiberius stopped himself. He removed his hand and the glowing died away in a second. Whatever he had attempted was done. Tam and I practically jumped to see if Julie was better. I put my hand on her forehead, and it was more cool than it had been. I nodded to Tam, and smiled widely. We both began to laugh a little. Julie was saved.

"A blood magic technique I developed myself," Tiberius explained, putting his glove back on, "When I was a younger man, I saw many a good mage die from the fevers after surviving the wounds. After I inherited my father's seat at the top of our society, I threw myself into extensive research in how to counteract them. Not something you'd learn from a southerner, I assure you."

"Thank you," I blurted out, unable to say anything else.

"You are most welcome," Tiberius replied warmly, "We can talk in the morning. She's waking up, and I am sure you have some explaining to do." Quite the understatement.

Sure enough, Julie was stirring. Tam quickly brought the blanket around her again, which was wise given that the cold had been let in entirely through all the open windows during the battle. Tiberius opened the doors and exited without another word, leaving us to talk to her. A wise decision on his part.

Finally, Julie awoke and rose unsteadily onto her palms. "What happened?" she asked groggily, "Are we safe?"

"We won," I smiled, "We'll explain everything."

Julie blinked a few times, looked at us and then at herself.

"Why am I naked and covered in blood?" she asked.

Tam and I couldn't help but laugh, bringing her into our arms. She was definitely going to live.

* * *

The process of explaining everything took quite a while, so much so that it was almost three in the morning by the time we got to sleep. Replacing the blood-soaked sheets and mattress didn't exactly help in that regard, but at least the noise of the wounded had largely died down. Word got out that the lady of the house was awake and alive, which lifted spirits among those still awake.

Julie didn't have anything to say about the arrival of Tiberius and his people, though I could see the cogs of her mind turning when she received the news, hand on chin no less. No doubt considering how the development fit into her own hugely ambitious political machinations. I could not help but be impressed and terrified at how quickly she moved from a relatively poor tax-dodging blacksmith to someone very much the master of her own fate.

It does help to be a genius, though.

Tam inspected both Julie and I to insure we were okay, something she would continue to do after every risky situation from this point onwards, and we washed ourselves before falling asleep. I was utterly exhausted, and drifted off almost instantly with Julie lodged between me and Tam. She wasn't going anywhere, that was for sure.

Scandalously, I awoke at midday, bolting upright when a stray beam of light glanced over my eyes from the window.

It was a lot later than the time I had wanted to get up at, and I was surprised that no one had knocked on the door before then. Afraid that the Tevinter delegation was waiting, I climbed out of the bed, which we had returned to its former place by the left-side window, and began getting dressed in a fresh uniform. I nudged the other two to get up as an afterthought.

Julie opened her eyes first, and raised herself as if she hadn't been asleep at all. She gasped as she placed her bare feet on the cold wooden floor, but tolerated the sensation, tiptoeing over to the place where the clothes and boots were. I watched her as I put my beret on, curious as to what she was doing. She quickly began dressing in a pair of desert-pattern pants, a sand-coloured t-shirt and finally, a British Army jacket that was a little too big for her. To finish it off, she tied her long hair back and donned a khaki beret. In short, she looked similar to how I did by the time she was finished.

I was baffled, tilting my head at her to try and get her to explain. "What are you trying to achieve with that?" I asked, as she pulled on the boots formerly belonging to me.

"I'm meeting the magister with you," Julie said, looking at me like I was slightly dumb, "I thought it best to look official."

I really didn't want her to come, because whatever Tiberius wanted, I doubted she would approve. And Julie wasn't one to express her disapproval diplomatically. Tevinter's systematic slavery wouldn't help matters either, a thing so repugnant to Julie's sensibilities as to merit no time to speak to people who benefited from it at all. The argument that would have erupted had I expressed my reluctance would have been far worse however, and quite rightly so as I had no real reason to exclude her, so I sighed my compliance with her plan. Besides, she looked god damn good in uniform.

"Tam, are you coming?" I asked.

"If I see that _saarebas_ again, I'll end up trying to kill him," she informed us politely, before putting a pillow over her head, leaving only her horns and hair visible from behind it. Blood mages were only for killing, in her mind. Julie had more ambivalence, given that that class of magic had quite possibly saved her life.

"Fair enough," I replied, shrugging at Julie as she smirked, "Let's go."

So we did. The outer corridor was warmer than I thought it would be, before I remembered that I had allowed people to stay in the château's other rooms. All the fireplaces must have been going, including the ones downstairs. The dirt had dried on the floor, staining the wood in a dried riverbed along the middle of the long space, but it wasn't anything that a bit of mopping wouldn't solve. No one else was around. I guessed there was too much healing and mourning to be done for there to be a swarm of activity. We descended to the garden with no interference, where we found Leha and Ciara looking for us. It smelled a lot less like blood, thank God.

"There you are," Leha stated flatly, her face telling that she was about to start a rant, "The Tevinters are waiting in the ball room. Cheeky buggers had me fetch your flag, something about it being an official diplomatic meeting between two noble houses. Was tempted to tell them to shove their orders where the sun doesn't shine, but Armen just told me to get on with it before storming off. I swear, the mages getting uppity like this is why you surface-types put them down in the first place." The dwarf took a breath, before eyeing me sharply for a response. The ballroom was one of two such rooms, and the one we hadn't converted to storage.

"Well, you'd be a little arrogant if you could shoot fire from your fingertips?" I said cautiously, thinking that she was arrogant enough without that ability, "Who's in there exactly?"

"The big shem, a littler one, and some scary-looking masked guards," Ciara reported cheerily in her lyrical accent, amused at Leha's annoyance, "Only five of them in there at the moment. Wish they'd all go away." That was encouraging, because it was far fewer than would be needed to overcome Julie and I, even without our handcannons.

"Good," I said, "We'll go in on our own."

"McNulty told me to tell you that the preparations for the pyres has started," Leha added, "And that there won't be enough wood or fuel for all the bodies unless we use some we've saved for the winter." I frowned, not pleased at that news. I would have just ordered burials instead, but when I had suggested that before at the Wolf's Lair, everyone went crazy, fearing that spirits would decide to hijack the corpses. It sounded idiotically superstitious to me, but considering I had met a spirit, I wasn't taking any chances.

"Fetch Velarana from wherever she's hiding, and tell her to get a team of mages together with some skill with fire," I said to Leha, "That'll save us some money and effort." Appealing to the dwarf's sensitivity to monetary problems was wise, as Leha gave me a big satisfied smile in return, sauntering off to do what I had asked. Ciara decided to tag along, no doubt disliking the idea of hanging around 'Vint mages. Not sure I can blame her.

With little else to do, I wordlessly walked to the door of the ballroom with Julie and entered.

The place was as bare as I remembered from the first inspection I had done, save for the large table stuck down to one end of the large space with a smattering of chairs. These were now occupied, at least those at the head of the table, by Tiberius, a younger man of twenty-something and three masked mages. They were having a lunch of bread, cheese and some sliced meat. Behind them, the flag of the United Nations and the banner of the Tevinter Imperium hung on footsteps echoed on the floor, bringing the attention of our guests to us. The magister smiled warmly again as he noticed, and waved us over like he was a natural part of the settlement. Bemused, we complied.

"Ah Marquis, finally," said Tiberius, "Your people have been most hospitable, but I was beginning to wonder if we were ever going to get the chance to talk before I leave." Implying that they had to leave soon, which lightened the weight on my heart caused by their presence.

"You killed many men who were trying to kill them," I replied, "Glad to see that you're making yourself at home." Now that I was sure it wouldn't be a lengthy arrangement.

"And the famous commoner Marquise, Julie Marteau," Tiberius continued, standing from his meal, "We have met before, but you were somewhat... indisposed? Allow me to formally introduce myself. I am Titus Tiberius Pansa, military attaché to the Tevinter ambassador in Orlais." He rose from his seat, took Julie's hand and planted a modest kiss on her knuckles, which didn't impress her much but was still very much expected of nobles of any rank.

"Thank you for saving my life," she replied politely, "I understood you took some risk in doing it." Meaning using blood magic in a land where that got you burned alive or hacked to death by Templars. I certainly wasn't going to be the one to inform Barris.

"Think nothing of it, it was my pleasure to aid the Marquis in any way I could," the magister replied, taking his seat again, "After all, I needed to make a good impression." If I knew why that was so, I maybe would not have allowed it. I still would have had the antibiotics as an option, and Tevinter meddling has had mixed results for me in the years since, to say the least.

"Good to know I'm worthy of a good impression," I said, sitting down.

"Oh, this is Gaius, by the way," Tiberius said, looking over his shoulder to the young man dressed similarly to him, "My eldest grandson, and an accomplished battlemage in his own right."

I nodded a greeting, and only got a stare back. There was a strong family resemblance, though the magister's grey hair was a striking difference to the dark black hair of the grandson. The former was also undoubtedly taller than the latter. Unusually for a mage, Gaius carried a sword. Of a type I was familiar with, but we'll get to that.

"Centurion, I think you can wait outside," Tiberius said to the nearest masked mage. The man turned and walked away to the door we had entered from, flanked by his two subordinates, one of whom carried the Tevinter banner. They left with no sign of an opinion on why their commander would be hanging around in the middle of the Dales, talking to two infamous people.

"There we are," the magister said, "Now we can speak more openly, don't you think?" Or more secretly, I thought.

"Grandfather, I must tell you again that I do not think it wise that we are here," Gaius said, "We can still leave." Curiouser and curiouser.

Tiberius laughed it off, earning a frown from his grandson.

"You'll have to excuse Gaius, he thought you were a myth for much of his life," the magister explained, "He wasn't very pleased when he discovered that his scepticism was wrong." My patience for the game he was playing ran out sharply.

"Are you going to you tell me where you got that flag?" I asked, "That's the only reason you're here." That the particular pattern of a rising sun existed could have been a coincidence, but someone using it to make an appeal to a man from Earth couldn't be. I needed to know where he got it. Perhaps there was a portal of some kind back home, I kept thinking.

Tiberius examined me for a moment, before replying.

"Your hostility is interesting," he said, "I suppose you've heard all the scare stories about my homeland. Blood mages run amok." I had heard that, but that wasn't the primary problem I had with the country. Nor was it Julie's.

"The slavery might put him off a little more," Julie said harshly, "That you're alive at all is down to you saving my life. Otherwise, I'd have killed you myself."

"I am certain you would have tried," Tiberius smiled in response, "Alas, I did save your life, so here we are."

"Do you own slaves?" Julie asked, pressing her point home by pulling out her handcannon.

"Yes, many," Tiberius replied, "But none of them serve me involuntarily."

"What does that mean?" said Julie, not believing him, "They're slaves."

"They weren't born as slaves," Tiberius continued, as if talking to a know-it-all pupil, "I don't find the buying and selling of slaves to be immoral, but I find that slaves that are bought and sold have no real loyalty to their masters. So I offer positions in my household to the poor, provided they become my slaves. People whose families would have starved to death in the street get food, shelter and education. I get loyalty, loyalty I can enforce by law if necessary but loyalty earned by esteem rather than force. My household is the most secure in the Imperium as a result. Necessary, considering the secrets I have to keep contained."

Clearly, he had thought this through. Not that I was happy to hear he only recruited slaves as opposed to buying them. In fact, I wanted to blast his head, but he had shown no hostility and there was the small matter of the consequences of killing a diplomat to consider. I could certainly believe that slaves were a liability for security, and I have profited from that problem myself since.

"Most slaves don't object to slavery generally," Tiberius added with a frown, "Only their place within it."

"I think we're getting off topic," I said firmly, brooking no further argument, "Tell me where you got the flag or I'm having you ejected from the estate."

"Lieutenant Keijiro Okuba," Tiberius responded immediately, "I doubt you know who he is, but I am sure you know where he is from."

"Earth," I said, "Japan." A country made up of a set of islands on the eastern most edge of the largest continent, and one of the most advanced nations on Earth.

"Indeed," said Tiberius, "I met Keijiro in a swamp on Seheron seventy-five years ago."

He reached for a large bag, opened it, and began laying down the contents. The warflag with the sunbeams was first, followed by a larger _hinomaru_ with just the sun. After that, two firelances, one long and one short automatic one, a small handcannon, a bayonet, a curved sword, a set of binoculars, a set of insignia, a journal and a set of letters. All of which I had seen before, either in person or via the technology of my world.

"A Nambu," I said, picking up the pistol, "My great grandfather had one of these." I set it down again, when Tiberius grinned knowingly at me. Which was a little off-putting.

Julie picked up the long firelance, and opened the bolt, inspecting every inch of it. It was an inferior design to my own precision firelance, but she took in the details to memory anyway. She probably knew more about the design after a few minutes than I ever would anyway. Something occurred to me, as I looked over the items again.

"Seventy five years ago would make you, what? Ninety-something years old?" I asked, "You don't look that old." He didn't even look sixty, in fact.

"Magic," said Julie, still unimpressed, "Probably blood magic."

"Actually, a good diet and healthy living have as much to do with it," Tiberius replied with false graveness, "But yes, there was more than a little magic involved. And don't worry, Gaius here is just as old as he looks. I spent most of my youthful years on the battlefield, you see." He got started on his own family late, apparently. Not uncommon for male Tevinter soldiers, I would learn.

"How did this Keijiro guy get to Thedas?" I asked, "Did he speak Common?"

"Keijiro got here the same way you did, through the Fade, and he spoke only broken Common at first," Tiberius responded, "Never got his head around Tevene."

So he was sucked through the Fade at some point, probably during the great war that provoked the creation of the United Nations. I doubt he would recognise the country he left behind, if he had lived to see it on the day I myself was taken from Earth.

"Out of curiosity, may I ask what country are you from?" His face was that of polite inquiry, so I felt no need to hide it.

"The United States of America," I replied, using the full title for effect, "Why?" Tiberius nodded, like a guess of his had been correct.

"The great enemy," the magister said, "Keijiro spoke of your homeland many times, in the early years. Seldom afterwards, unless he was drunk."

I snorted at that. I had trained with Japanese soldiers at one point. Like I said, things had changed. "Actually, our countries are very close allies now," I replied, "Japan was utterly defeated, but we needed them to recover so we could defend against the Soviet Union." I was testing to see just how much he knew. The answer was 'too much'.

"Keijiro was more contemptuous of the Russians," said Tiberius, his eyes looking upwards as he remembered, "He was fond of telling the history of his country, almost as if it was a epic story of characters. I knew his perspective was partial when he spoke of the decadence of your country." No doubts there.

"You say you met him on Seheron?" I asked, "Is there a way back to Earth there?" That would have been a complete bitch to get to, but I would have attempted to bring as many as wanted to come.

Tiberius shook his head. I had already been told that there was no way back, but thought perhaps that the magister knew of one. "Keijiro died in the summer," he said, "Of old age. He refused all magical treatment throughout his life, you see, unless he wasn't awake to object. Strange, considering all the fighting he went through. He refused to leave Seheron for twenty years, and fought by my side the whole time, looking for a way back no matter what I told him. When I first met him, he was knee deep in twelve Qunari corpses, bleeding badly from a wound between his legs but still standing, the blood of the savages on his bayonet and pooled around him."

Of course, having a superior weapon probably helped greatly, but even still, that was an impressive feat. I was glad that Tam wasn't there to hear him refer to her former people as savages though, and even I found it objectionable. However, not enough to say so. He had answers I needed.

"This is very interesting," said Julie, laying the long firelance across her lap, "But why are you here?"

Tiberius leaned back in his chair, considering how to broach the subject. Gaius scoffed from behind, rolling his eyes at his grandfather's supposed reluctance. I still had no idea what his problem was, though I would learn soon enough.

"Just tell him what you want," the younger Tiberius said, "Skirting around it won't help you convince him."

"No, but he'll want to understand why regardless," the elder Tiberius snapped, "You're too much like your father, impetuous!" The grandson stared defiantly back, until the magister turned around to us again.

"So? What's the big deal?" I asked.

"Keijiro and you are not the only people from your world to come here," Tiberius said, with some reluctance, "Our ancestors are responsible, I'm afraid." He braced himself, as if to receive personal blame, but I had none for him. Perhaps the Japanese lieutenant had blamed him, at first.

"How?" I asked, surprising him with my apparent grace. His eyes softened again. He was beginning to like me, as opposed to being amiable out of a desire to get something out of me. Whatever that was.

"Two thousand years ago, a mere handful of decades after the foundation of the Tevinter Imperium, my family grew concerned about the elves and their power," Tiberius began, "You understand that the elves once possessed a mighty empire of their own, yes?"

I nodded.

"Well, it was founded on magical power, much like our own," the magister continued, "The various cousins of the family at the time came together to deal with this problem they saw on the horizon, as well as increase their own standing in the Imperium itself. They were of a middling rank at the time, heavily involved with the army and the nascent magical academies, but were not of the magisterium."

Tiberius paused to drink some water, and I indicated with my hand for him to continue, so that he knew I was listening. He thanked me and began again.

"They sought power, and for a mage, there is only one source of power; the Fade," he said, "So they sought to breach the Fade."

Julie slammed her palm down on the table hard, shaking the plates and cups loudly with the impact.

"Ha! I knew it!" she said, "If your people were trying to enter the Fade before, then the magisters _were_ responsible for the Blights!" Tiberius frowned. It was an old point of contention between the South and the North, whether or not Tevinter was responsible for bringing about the archdemons' plagues.

"I do not know the truth of that," Tiberius replied, "I doubt anyone was responsible for that, except for the old gods themselves. I believe this way because of what _did_ happen five hundred years before the Golden City was supposedly breached. _If you'll let me continue_..."

Julie pouted a little, but agreeing with a wave of her hand, she let the point stand.

"Regardless, the first recorded blood sacrifice by a human conclave of mages was made, in the western hills near the edge of the Imperium's current borders where no one could interfere. The Fade was breached," Tiberius continued, "Every mage in attendance felt their power surge, but then something went horribly wrong. We know not how exactly, but the power they were gaining returned to the Fade, and a person was flung from the portal before it finally closed itself." By this point, I was truly enraptured by the tale. The ones with truth in them often do that, and I could tell the magister believed every word to be true. In a sense, I was living proof that it was true, and so was Keijiro.

"He was clothed in segmented plate armour and a red cloak," Tiberius said gravely, "And he was not pleased to be there. My ancestors' cousins were stunned to see him, and enraged that their plan failed. They attacked him, most unwisely. For if they had paid any heed of what had happened, they would have known that the reason for their failure was that he was immune to magic."

"Just like Sam," Julie said, "He must have..."

"Yes, the man slaughtered all of them but one," Tiberius confirmed, "His sword fell upon them with a terrible fury. Thirty two of my ancestor's cousins, slain. No matter what magical arts were unleashed against him, the man... _the soldier_... walked through it like it was nothing but rain. The thirty-third was to join the others, until her mask fell off. The killing stopped instantly."

I knew a romantic side track when I heard one.

"Let me guess," I said, "She was beautiful, he threw aside his sword, they worked out their differences."

Tiberius laughed. "You have it exactly, Marquis," he said, "He spoke Ancient Tevene, by some bizarre coincidence. She felt a terrible guilt for bringing him to Thedas, and he was alone in the world. It was simply a practical arrangement at first, but they came to love each other. She took his name, becoming Lutetia Tiberia Major, the mother of my family's entire bloodline, and he named the estate that became my birthplace, Trevevorum. They built it on the exact spot where he had arrived."

He was a Roman legionnaire, I realised. The red cloak, the armour, the killing, all of it. That might explain the expansionism of Tevinter to some extent, depending on just how influential Tiberius' family had been. I have written extensively about the influences that produced American civilisation elsewhere, and to those who are familiar with that work, you will know the scale of Rome's achievements. Tevinter, I often think, would be the result if Rome had been ruled by mages instead of ordinary men. Alas, I am getting off point, and so was Tiberius.

"What has this got to do with Sam?" Julie said impatiently, "I keep asking that, and you keep going into longwinded stories."

"I have to agree there," I said, the trance broken for the moment.

Tiberius held up his hands, as if urging us to wait for it.

"Tiberia had three children, one of whom is my direct ancestor," he said, "The match proved to be incredibly potent. The children were some of the most powerful mages ever seen in Thedas, and my ancestor became the first of my family to sit on the Magisterium. We believe that your direct contact with the Fade seems to gather its power, but it cannot affect you as there is no magic in your world. So it remains dormant, except in a very specific set of circumstances. So, for the past two thousand years, my family has sought out more of your kind, as they are periodically removed from Earth and brought here, and there have been many."

"Has your family found any of, whatever you call us?" I asked, "And how periodically are we talking about?"

"We call your kind outlanders, and we have never found any alive until Keijiro. He was injured, making use of his power impossible," Tiberius said, shaking his head, "The translation from one world to another seems to occur randomly. When a new arrival comes, the Fade flares in my estate, pointing the way to where the next traveller has arrived. We believe most of the outlanders arrive outside of the known world, and perhaps most of those have drowned in the sea." Which is how he found me, and why he got himself assigned to Orlais as a diplomat, incidentally. It took some months to organise. He even found the helicopter, or so I would be informed later.

"Over the years, my family has found a good number of dead outlanders. They have all been soldiers, and were often killed by locals whom they attacked or who feared them. My own father believed that it was spilled blood calling to spilled blood, battlefields calling to battlefields. The only way for the Fade to breach your world is for you to inadvertently make a blood sacrifice equal to that which Tiberia and the others made so long ago."

By that reckoning, there should be a great number of people from the 20th century running around, but then, I had been extremely lucky. If it hadn't been for Fraser's men, the dragon would have killed me. If it hadn't been for Julie and Tam, Orlais' justice would have killed me. If it hadn't been for Armen, Ciara and Leha, any number of other quirks and differences would have drawn the attention of authorities that could have killed me. I felt like I had just walked a tightrope over some tall cliffs. I can only imagine what would have happened if we had crash landed over the sea.

However, I was beginning to understand his purpose here.

"So... you want to use my Fade-power?" I asked, "Like some kind of magical battery?" That drew confused looks from the 'Vints, but Julie was on hand to explain better than I could.

"He's asking if you want to take magic from him like one draws water from a dam," she said, "To use him like a source of magic." It would certainly fit the Tevinter profile. From what Tam had told me, they would do anything to advance their position, up to and including mass murder if the magisters of old were any example.

"No, no, not at all," Tiberius objected, "I want to cement a permanent alliance with your house, so that we may add your power to our own." I didn't take his meaning.

"How would an alliance give you my power?" I asked naively. I was thinking of an alliance in modern Earth terms, of course. Paper, not blood, being the bond that sealed it, ties of reputation rather than family keeping them strong. Julie groaned loudly, and I glanced at her for a clue. She looked at me like I was an idiot.

"You should understand noblespeak by now," she complained, "He wants you to marry into his family, you big _imbecile_!"

I returned my gaze to Tiberius, who was nodding deeply.

"I happen to have a wonderful, beautiful granddaughter, Aurelia, who would be a perfect match," the magister said, "Given your noble rank, you could even live openly in the Imperium, and you are clearly a man of integrity as well. It is more than even I could have hoped for." The man was already planning the wedding. It was not the last such proposal I would receive from nobility, but it was by far the most startling. I felt like my tongue was numb in trying to respond to it, not least because it had been made with Julie sitting right beside me.

"You can't be serious," I said, "Move to a slave estate to marry a woman I've never met, to have children so that your family can gain more power? Why on Earth would I do that?" This Aurelia could be Helen of Troy and still it would be a terrible idea, I thought. Julie looked suitably pleased at my reaction, at least.

"Think about it," Tiberius said, leaning on the table, "You have already been attacked by the Templars. Thanks to Madame Marteau here, it is only a matter of time before Orlais and the southern Chantry try to destroy you. The other states are too weak to protect you, and I know you would not flee to the Qun. It does not need to be a romantic arrangement either, simply a political one. Such marriages are common in the nobility, north and south. In Tevinter, you would have respect, status, money, power, and absolute security."

"Yeah, but I'd also have no soul," I replied, "I can't have children with someone I don't love, it's... just nasty. What the hell do we tell the kids themselves? Sorry, Mom and Dad are only on diplomatic terms with one another? Oh, and here's the women I really love? Makes my skin crawl just thinking about it."

Of course, there was a very real problem beyond that. I would undoubtedly be forced to fight, as part of the family's contribution to the Tevinter military. I shuddered with the thought of it. My father's own family had fought for a slave state a century and a half before this, but they had volunteered because of the threat of invasion. I would be compelled to do so, without any higher principle at stake. I wouldn't do it.

"I understand," said Tiberius, conciliatory in tone, "I do not expect you to say yes now. I expect you to come to me once the Orlesians have had their turn." Which they would.

"It's not like you could have forced him anyway," Julie said flippantly.

"Oh, do you know that?," Tiberius replied, "I could have taken you as a chip to trade."

Julie pulled her handcannon up and levelled it at Tiberius. The magister leaned back in his chair again, looking like a toddler had just threatened him. I admired his courage, at least, and noticed that Gaius seemed far more jovial all of a sudden. Which distracted both Julie and I quickly.

"This is not going to plan, is it grandfather?" the mage snickered. Tiberius gave him a disapproving look, the sort only a grandfather can give. Utterly withering.

"You'll have to excuse my grandson, he was never on board with offering you Aurelia's hand," the magister said, "They're cousins, and he wants to marry her himself. Even though it isn't healthy." That set off my alarms for nasty, and apparently, Tiberius' as well.

"Other families do it to preserve the bloodlines," Gaius insisted.

"We are not other families, as this entire conversation has demonstrated," Tiberius snapped, "The man who will restore our power is sitting across from me, not standing behind me!"

In other words, it was me and not Gaius. The presumption riled me a little, but I let it slide on account of the amusing face that it produced in the younger man. He looked like he had just been forced to eat a raw lemon, his lips pursed together. Noble inbreeding was fairly legendary on Earth, and I guess it was progress that at least the magister knew it was a bad idea. The irony is of course that Tiberius was right in the end, though not in the way either of us would have invisaged.

"So, you've made the offer," said Julie, crossing her arms, "It'll never be accepted. Time to go."

"I believe so," Tiberius said, standing up with no hint of malice, "You may keep Keijiro's things. I already have everything of sentimental value to me. The letters are to his wife on Earth. Should you find a way back, I would appreciate if you would deliver them to his real family. He fostered several of my nieces and nephews, after my sister was assassinated, and he has helped raise my many grandchildren. I owe him that much."

We followed the two 'Vints out of the hall, through the garden, and eventually out of the eastern archway, where his little army was waiting under the watchful eyes of Soprano, Mike and Leha.

I grumbled at being so close to the damned dracolisks again, but the magister and his grandson seemed entirely at ease with the beasts, mounting them as easily as a horse. Despite the things hissing like snakes as they shifted their weight.

Surprisingly, the Vints had been ready to leave since morning, or so Soprano whispered to me as I came level with her.

"Farewell Samuel Hunt, Marquis de la Fayette," Tiberius said, his dracolisk rearing as it turned to leave, "I am sure we will meet again."

"Go home, you lunatic," I shouted back, "You'll never see me again."

That got the whole Tevinter group laughing. Evidently his eccentricities were common knowledge. The old man rode off past his columns, and the whole group of Vint mages and Marcher mercs filed around to follow his remarkably brisk pace. All except Gaius, who rode up beside me.

"I'll hold you to that," the younger man said.

"Piss off, Gaius," I replied, giving him an obscene gesture, "Run along before I decide to smite you." The man was barely out of his teen years, and undoubtedly able to smite others with his magic. But not me. He grinned maliciously back, before joining the retreat.

"Making friends I see," Soprano said, looking for an explanation. One wouldn't be forthcoming from me.

"I hope not," Julie replied, "I wonder how Tam will react."

"Badly," I said, knowing for certain, "Even more so when she agrees with Tiberius on one thing; Orlais is coming." Which ironically, would not be our fault. At least not directly.

"Then I was right," said Julie, turning to me, "With your help, we can make everything we need to hold the chevaliers at bay forever!" I groaned inwardly. That she had chosen to open up this debate in front of Soprano and Mike was severely irritating. And yet, her bright green eyes pleaded with me, defusing my irritation instantly. Julie always was good at using them, but she was completely sincere this time as well.

I gave in, but only partially.

"A compromise," I said, rubbing the back of my head, "I'll help you, but only to make things that you would have come up with eventually." Nukes and mustard gas would be cheating, after all.

Julie took my hand, and continued watching the Vints ride down the avenue towards Hearth.

"That's all that I ask," she said, "I wonder why this... Keijiro did not give your technology to Tevinter." It was an interesting question.

"He probably didn't know how it worked," I replied, "His job was different to mine, and he came from a different time. He was trained to fight, not to think." Whereas I had to do both in order to survive. Not to mention that I came through with a large number of books, which stored knowledge that I didn't have.

"We should avoid that with our own people, I think," Julie mused.

I couldn't agree more.

* * *

 _AUTHOR'S NOTE: And so the second of my strategic-level plots drops like the bomb. That's the last chapter for the Rebellion Arc, folks. This was somewhat rushed, so it will undergo an edit at some point._

 _ **LordGhostStriker:** Not quite. Well, sort of. We'll hear more stories about what Keijiro did when he was alive at a later date. _

_**Tactus501st:** Careful, it's like heroin. Highly addictive awesomeness._

 _ **5 Coloured Walker:** Always appreciated._

 _ **Drgyen:** The healer may become a bigger character, but his role isn't so large in this volume._

 _ **IComeAnonymously:** The Familiar of Zero is probably an unconscious influence on this story, yes. I didn't set out with it in mind, but I have seen it. _

_**Fenris:** I'm fairly sure this chapter answers all your questions._

 _ **Pyryp:** Pretty much exactly what I was going for, cheers._

 _ **Guest:** Indeed he can, but he doesn't want to, and there are plenty of ideas around today that survived the Enlightenment._

 _ **Asahar4:** Leliana is only acting according to the interests of her loyalties. It's not personal. Much._


	24. Chapter 24: The Chant of Light

**Chapter Twenty-Four: The Chant of Light**

File X002: Keijiro Okuba. Brought to Thedas in the Sixty-Third year of the Blessed Age.

Died in July, in the Thirty-Eighth Year of the Dragon Age.

Point of entry: Seheron.

Officer of the Imperial Japanese Army. General of the Tiberian Legions of the Tevinter Imperium. Influential in the adoption of massed non-magical troop tactics against the Qunari. No blood-related Thedosian children, four adopted children via the Titus branch of the Tiberius dynasty.

* * *

File X003: Tiberius Primus, the First Outlander. Brought to Thedas in the Thirtieth year of the Tevinter Imperium.

Died in the Sixty-First year of the Imperium.

Point of Entry:

Centurion of the Roman Empire, Co-founder of the Tevinter Tiberius dynasty. Real name unknown, name used in Thedas most likely taken from the Roman emperor at the time of his removal from Earth (according to my books). Three known children.

* * *

File X004: Andraste MacElderath.

Date of entry to Thedas unknown. Death in the Year One Thousand and Twenty-Five of the Tevinter Imperium.

Suspected Outlander.

(Redacted section due to new information: Would be only known female outlander.) Case unproven.

Most likely arrived as a small child. Successfully escaped Imperial slavery. Proclaimed a monotheistic doctrine when polytheism was dominant both in her homeland and in her place of captivity. This is consistent with someone brought up in a monotheistic environment, as Andraste would have been on Earth. The First Blight insufficient explanation for the defeat of Tevinter during her liberation of the South; any number of magical means to assassinate her could have and should have been employed, yet she lived.

High likelihood of magical immunity, high likelihood that this immunity led directly to the cults that worshipped her as part-divine (as some have attempted with myself). The ancient languages of Ferelden suggest Scottish ancestry. Daughters and granddaughters disappeared, possibly dying without continuing the bloodline.

* * *

These first entries in what became a veritable library of documents, known as the X Files in our secret services, demonstrate my thinking in the days after Tiberius' departure.

There was two thousand years between myself and the First Outlander, and I had a hunch that many more had come in the interim. If seventy-five years was the standard gap, as the life and death of Keijiro Okuba is any evidence, then there had been at least twenty-six outlanders in the history of Thedas. It would be some years before I was told that the number was closer to three times that figure, when I finally gained access to the records from Tiberius' Treverorum estate.

I do not remember what led me to believe that Andraste herself was an Outlander. It just seemed to make sense. Her ability would certainly have given her a large proof that she was divinely blessed, just as Mother Brandon believed I was. Yet she was no soldier. She would not have been able to resist the slavers physically. She did not have firelances, or even professional military training. She could have been a slave without ever being subjected to magic, and yet the story of her escape is sufficiently vague as to suggest that she might have discovered her immunity and exploited it.

Perhaps it was, and is, wishful thinking.

Andraste did many things, but she most certainly sought to make the world a better place. Mages should not rule the world. Magic should serve man, to use her own words. That gave me great hope that my fears about my presence in the world might be ill-judged. After all, if Andraste was an outlander, she must have come from a period of time on Earth known as the Dark Ages. It was one of the least enlightened periods in our history. I, on the other hand, was born in a golden age of reason and prosperity. We often thought it was the opposite, but we were utterly spoiled in comparison to the Thedosians of the same time.

She used one of the few tools available to her; faith and a good message. I could do better than she could. I had more than mere words.

So, having come to this conclusion and convinced myself of its correctness, I threw myself into the work of making Julie's dream of a free Orlais come true. She was to be our Andraste, and I was to be her Maferath. Without the jealousy and betrayal, I am happy to report. I had no stomach for politics or glory, and so nothing to be jealous about. Tam would have killed me if I had gone as far as the Betrayer did in any case. All through the rest of the winter, I spent every free hour helping Julie, Armen and Leha bring what we needed together together.

Julie was truly a Da Vinci.

She had thought of everything, inspired by Earth technology and history. Weapons, armour, tools, she invented and built them all in months. The forges were worked almost continuously, with iron, steel, and bronze. The snows cleared in late January, and we were able to mix up a great deal of black powder too. I even successfully made some of the more potent explosive compounds, on a small scale. It seemed chemistry largely held up the same way on Thedas as it did on Earth. Armen confirmed as much. The number of people involved in making weapons was greatly increased, as the blacksmiths were largely unemployed in winter due to lack of fuel. No such problem for a 'noble' with hundreds of fire-throwing mages to spare.

Tam's reaction to Tiberius' revelations was muted, but as predicted. She had extensive knowledge of Tevinter, and was far from surprised at the extent of their arrogance. She warned me that it wasn't the end of the matter by a long shot. I was valuable, far too much so to simply wait for a change of mind. The Imperium's magisters weren't as skilled as their Orlesian counterparts at non-magical manipulation, but Tam assured me that they would find some way to put us in their debt.

Tam conscripted Ciara and Armen to help train the soldiers. McNulty and Soprano were both promoted to colonel, their companies were turned into regiments, and we began arming them with their signature weapons. Soprano's group became the Rangers, specialists as before in the art of killing a man from afar. They added the rifled musket to their repetoire of longbow and crossbow. McNulty and his men gained their famous Grenadiers moniker, their swords and rectangular curved shields joined by 'potato masher' devices that could be thrown a few dozen yards to kill anyone in a six metre radius. One of the keys to our victories to come were taking shape. It was also perhaps the key to our complete overconfidence.

Most of our people remained armed in a way that any Thedosian would recognise, although their organisation and discipline would be alien. There just wasn't enough time to train everyone, and there was no way to make enough gunpowder while keeping the formula a secret. Velarana and Mike also gained commissions as colonels, the knight-enchanter leading the few hundred battle-mages as a coherent unit despite my better judgment, and Mike leading the pike-and-crossbow troops we had started training before the winter.

The children were also getting along. The rate at which the illiterate peasant kids had picked up Latin letters utterly astonished me. By the time spring rolled along, they had the entire Chant of Light written out, making it the second ever publication in Latin lettering after _Le Sens Commun_ , which was published in both Common and Latin. Another huge money maker later on. They were educated in a great deal else besides. A good number of the mages were heavily involved in this, having much experience with teaching children. Though there was only agreement to allow this after Delrin Barris agreed to sit in on every class where a mage would be present. It proved such a successful enterprise that the ballrooms on the ground floor became classrooms. As an added bonus, the band learned a great number of marching tunes, and the older of them were eventually assigned to the regiments. The sound of drums and Dalish fifes was a regular thing from that point onwards.

To my non-Thedosian readers, you might get the impression that, together, we had planned for everything. Or that we were playing with fire like fools, and would get burned. The truth is somewhere in between, of course, but there was something I had utterly neglected to think of. Orlais, like much of Southern Thedas, was highly faithful. It was a religious age, and in many places it still is. The question of where I stood on the big questions grew bigger as my reputation did.

The Chantry wanted its pound of flesh.

* * *

With the clearing of the snows came what I can only describe as pilgrims. It was winter, so there was little to do in the farms and plantations which most were tied to. Many travelled to Hearth to see Julie and I. They mostly came to hear her speak, of course. They wanted to see if she would dare criticise the Throne with something other than paper. She was happy to do so, even in the rain. Dozens became hundreds, and by the letting up of the torrential rain season in March, hundreds had become thousands. Peasants, traders, even some minor nobility came from all over the Dales. I was wary at first, particularly of the latter, but it seems fear of mages kept those who weren't certain away.

Many wished to see me, and most alarmingly, wanted to touch me so as to have themselves blessed, protected from all their worst nightmaes. Perhaps I should have told them of the visitation I had received from the very dead former owner of my home, but alas, I did not. The stories had gotten out of hand, and no matter how much political capital we would have gained from allowing it, I refused to be mobbed. I kept to myself when the crowds were around. They didn't seem to mind. Between Julie and Mother Brandon, they were well entertained. Both enjoyed speeches far more than I did.

Of course, while these events were going on, the parade ground was used. So, I couldn't help Julie at the forge because she was out on a podium, I couldn't drill troops because there was no space and they were too busy guarding things, and I couldn't conduct much other business without sneaking around.

The last such meeting was in mid-March, just before everyone had to get back to work. Farming takes a lot of people, without machines.

I was beside the stables, well out of sight. Not even the stable staff were there, it was lunch time. I had sat down on a stool near Bellona's stall, using a barrel as a table. I had a few things to read, so I was sat down with a mug of ale to get it out of the way. Mostly just progress reports, of course. We didn't have too many penpals around Orlais. Or at least, I didn't. It was all run-of-the-mill stuff, until I reached the last letter of the pile.

It bore the sigil of Pierre des Arbes. The Baron was writing to me from Halamshiral.

This was quite literally the first correspondence from the man in three months. I cursed under my breath. The hope that there would be a few more months without him died. I ignored a cheer in the distance from the crowds, took the letter in my hand and ripped it open roughly. It was handwritten in a flowing, educated script that I wouldn't have attributed to the Baron himself, although perhaps the Baroness had done the honours. Or I was being unkind to the man, which was always the danger at that time.

 _Marquis,_

 _As you have singularly failed to die despite the Templars trying their hardest, I must avail of your services yet again._

 _First of all, may I congratulate you on your new-found fame._

 _The entire Winter court has heard tales about you, though almost all dismiss you as a myth or a fraud. A man who cannot be harmed by mages, gathering them into a new Circle? It seems the Templars kept their defeat at your hands extremely quiet, and I can guess for what reason. The Sorceress currently advising the Empress was by far the most scornful of your rumoured immunity to magic and all things concerning the Fade. It is most amusing to know better, having received letters from Mother Brandon swearing that it is the absolute truth. Naturally, I have kept the affidavit of our beloved Revered Mother a safe secret. It is gratifying to know I have such a useful person in my employ._

 _However, I do not write out of concern for you._

 _I have always known Julie to be a brilliant woman, but her words have shaken the very foundations of the Empire. It seems like everyone has read her 'Common Sense' now. The younger nobles in particular seem most enamoured with it, and I have to admit that I myself am as well. My wife seems to be obsessed with its ideals. Madame Marteau has managed to collect all that is wrong with Orlais into a single parchment for all to see, exposing its weakness and corruption. It appears that even Empress Celene has read it, as her personal servant was seen exiting her rooms with a copy of the pamphlet some days ago. Again, our little secret._

 _Unfortunately, there has been a consequence to this. The Grand-Duke and many other nobles, particularly the higher ranked elder lords and ladies, are less than amused. Julie has managed to excite even greater tensions between Gaspard and Celene. Worse, despite all our pleadings, the Empress will not confront the pretender either on the battlefield or through other means. His death would send far more of the Empire into turmoil than simply ignoring the problem. Of course, nor can Gaspard directly intervene, now that the taxes he had collected from we loyal barons was intercepted._

 _I trust that my fellows' coin has been very useful in strengthening our forces at Hearth, yes? We will have need of that strength._

 _The Grand-Duke cannot attack us directly, but he hardly needs to. Among those loyal to Celene in our part of the Dales, only two of us are warriors. The ten or so others are simply gentlemen or ladies of leisure, little interested in war. War is going to come to them anyway. Gaspard's barons in the Emprise and on the Exalted Plains are far more warlike, and will undoubtedly march upon us. The senior clerics in the Chantry are greatly displeased by Julie's words as well, and may channel gold to our enemies to insure she is silenced. Preaching from the lower ranked clerics will save you if there is a command from on high, calling you an apostate or a heathen, but it will certainly divide opinion.  
_

 _It is no longer safe in the Winter Palace, and the court is due to return to Val Royeaux soon regardless. By the time you have read this, we will be on the way home. Myself, the Baroness, our children, and the other barons, baronesses and their families. We will come together in council in Hearth, and discuss how we will meet this threat._

 _I hope to arrive by boat some three days after the expected delivery date of this message. My_ _seneschal will have instructions to arrange a grand return ceremony as always. Cancelling it would arouse suspicions. I expect to see you on the docks._

 _Signed,_

 _Baron Pierre des Arbes, the Lord Hearth, Royal Governor of the Hearthlands._

I put down the letter with a sigh. Everything he had said was actually good news. It appeared we actually had allies in the struggle to come. The problem it seemed, would be convincing them to fight with us. To make Julie's glorious cause into their cause. I would have thought convincing Julie herself to go along with this meeting to be a difficult thing, but she had read the history of Earth. No matter how principled she was, she was not so much a zealot as to execute the nobility outright. At least, not before they resisted.

Getting a bunch of soft nobles to fight when some sort of deal was the most likely outcome was going to be difficult, but I had a plan. I had to convince them we could win, and thanks to Julie, I think we had the right tools for that job. That war was coming at all was wearisome in the extreme, but I resigned myself. I had fought in two wars already. What was a third or fourth to me? Nothing but a series of complex challenges.

I stood up, going to return inside the château, when Bellona edged out of her stable door and neighed at me, shaking her head for a moment. A familiar sign to me by that stage.

I sauntered over, drawing out each step and smiling. "Now what do you want?" I said to the horse, getting another impatient neigh and head-shake for my trouble.

"Oh, you want this!" I said, holding up my hand.

I stroked the horse along the neck, and she froze on the spot as I did so. A bit of heavy breathing and she got into it. I let out a laugh, as her eye gazed at me with what I suppose is appreciation. In fairness, getting stroked is pretty good regardless of what species you are. Bellona was a very steady beast, totally unafraid of loud noises, barely registering fire as a threat and most definitely one I could take into combat. Of course, my opinion of horses is similar to my opinion of mages; bringing them into battle directly is an expensive waste. At least horses don't occasionally insist on it, as Velarana and Armen's cohorts did.

So I kept at it for a few minutes, unaware of my surroundings. My mind turned to some boring practical matters that I now forget, most likely to do with gunpowder and how much of it we had.

I didn't hear Ciara approach from behind.

"She really likes that," the she-elf said suddenly.

I flinched, not expecting anyone to be with me. I turned around to find Ciara in a casual peasant's outfit, as opposed to her more usual hunting garb. It was strange to my eye, and I remarked on it.

"Just back from the big meeting?" I asked, "I thought you Dalish didn't go in for Andraste talk." Julie liked to draw direct parallels between the struggle against the Tevinters of old and the coming war that she was sure was near. It was a very compelling notion, that the movement she was creating was following in those footsteps. Not entirely an original idea either, I have to say.

Ciara shook her head at my question.

"We don't," she replied, "I'm hiding. Dalish aren't welcome." This was actually quite wise on her part, but I was confused.

"Aren't they all Dalish?" I asked, "I mean, they're all from the Dales." I got a small smile in return.

"They live in the Dales, but they do not honour the ways of the true Dalish," she explained, her accent deepening, "When Orlais conquered this land, most elves accepted the religion and way of life of the Orlesians."

"So people, even elves, who farm or live in towns aren't Dalish, because they worship Andraste?" I asked, "Where I'm from, that would be considered supremacist, or fundamentalist."

Ciara tilted her head slightly, not understanding the terms. Isms didn't really translate very well, most of the time.

"Americans can believe in one of many religions or none at all," I tried to explain, "But they're all still Americans, as long as they're loyal to the country. The same is true of many countries on Earth. It seems... unfair to paint everyone who disagrees with you as 'not Dalish'."

To me, the peasant in the field and the wandering hunter-gatherer were just as equally primitive. Neither would or could contribute to the advancement of their society. I did believe there were lines you couldn't cross, ideas that were so contrary to the common good that it made it justified to ostracise or even attack a person, but simply believing in a different deity wasn't among them. My perception was tempered by my experience of the desert and the years leading up to my service, however.

Ciara considered my words for a moment, stroking Bellona while her eyes moved. She was trying her best to explain it to me delicately.

"I didn't make up the rules," she said at last, "It is simply how my people think. The shems are hardly better, they believe we are savages to be shooed away, or hunted down and killed."

I nodded at that. It was certainly true that attitudes towards the Dalish were equally as screwed up, perhaps more so than those towards 'city' elves.

"I wouldn't know," I conceded, "So are you following Julie simply because Armen is?"

Ciara blew a fart out of her lips and laughed heartily, shaking and holding her sides. Bellona backed off a little, clearly as startled as I was. I had barked up the wrong tree completely.

"Armen and I are good friends, but he has different reasons than I do," she said, wiping tears of hilarity out of her eyes, "He has lived among the shems all his life, and wants the best for them. I just want to do more than wander around with my clan for an entire lifetime. I want to see with my own eyes how the world passes. Doesn't matter what happens as long as it's interesting. I care, of course. Julie's ideas are very interesting."

I frowned. This seemed extremely whimsical, but then, considering how we met Ciara, I guessed this was natural. Not everyday you run into a Dalish elf doing casual work in Orlais. In fact, most city elves thought of their cousins with stories bordering on myth, rather than the squalid reality of life on the move. A lesson we would ourselves learn in time.

"Not a woman of high principle, I see," I said back to her, "I guess asking you to mediate for Dalish support would be stupid." Though she was barely a woman, it was hard to see her as a child considering the violence she had seen.

"My clan is far to the south, and wouldn't come north anyway," said Ciara, "In fact, I think the last person who did was probably Julie's father." That was an interesting tidbit, particularly as it could be leverage.

"He was from your clan?" I asked.

"Not sure," Ciara shrugged, "From what she has said, it seems likely. There are plenty more clans on the Plains, not too many in the south and none around these parts." I had no intention of inquiring with Julie further on the subject, so there was little need to doubt these words.

"Well, I am glad we are so entertaining," I replied, changing the subject back to her motivations.

"Of course," Ciara replied cheerily, before adding, "The garden helped convince me." She was something akin to chief herbalist, growing all sorts of useful and beautiful things. Of course, her duties included a great deal of fighting, which brought me to the next question.

"You do know it's going to be even more dangerous from now on?" I said, "No one would think less of you if you didn't want to stick around."

"Can't watch the world without fighting for your place, Marquis," she said, tone turning to jest on my title, "I thought you would know that."

She wandered off as suddenly as she had arrived, pacing away pretty rapidly and rounding the corner of the Chateau, leaving me in a daze. She was a wonderful idiot, I'll give her that. I am still not convinced we were worth her considerable, quiet effort. Not once had she seriously complained. She just got down to business. Very admirable to my eye.

The reason for her haste entered my attention as a sharp, loud voice booming from the château archway opposite.

"Marquis, I must speak with you!" Revered Mother Brandon shouted, walking across the cobblestones, "It is of the utmost concern!"

I winced and turned away instinctually at the Orlesian priestess' approach. She was almost as annoying as a believer as when she was trying to get me burned at the stake, at least at this point. She had several 'utmost' concerns between the Templars' defeat and the beginning of spring.

Personally, I had thought she would revolt against us when the full details of that debacle had emerged, but our defeat of the 'rogue faction' of the Chantry's own military arm and our chasing away of the Tevinter delegation in a very public manner had actually increased her zeal for our cause. Julie had even convinced her to grow out her hair a little more, so as to appear more soft for the new pilgrims who might be unused to her.

Heloise Brandon had not grown soft in any other respect, however.

"Marquis, I have received a letter from the Divine," she said, "We have a serious problem."

I was tempted to retort that the Chantry was a never ending source of problems, but something else came to mind in a much stronger fashion. Sister Nightingale was supposed to have kept things in order for me, or tried. It seemed somewhat late for a reaction to what was perfectly legitimate defence, in my opinion.

"If it's about the mages, I'm not cooperating with any move to put them back in the Circles," I said immediately, "They're perfectly safe with me." We hadn't had a single instance of maleficar or demon possession, despite far more extensive use of magic than would be normal even in a Circle. This was somewhat strange to scholars of the subject, I am told, but my presence is an anomaly they could never calculate for.

"It is not truly about the mages. The Divine has proclaimed L'Ambassade to be a new Circle, so that it appears that she has not lost ground in the face of the Libertarians. No, the letter is also about the Lady Marquise," Brandon said, waving the letter in front of me, "The senior clergy are furious, and I cannot say I am surprised. Fat bureaucrats that they are, they cannot understand the true meaning of the Chant, and of Andraste's struggle." The Revered Mother nodded to herself assuredly, like she was absolutely positive of their corruption. A little funny, her certitudes now supporting us. Still, it was good to know we had some cover against future Templar attacks. I suspected Barris' hand in it, but it was neither here nor there.

"They're probably under a lot of pressure from the Orlesian nobles," I shrugged, "Not very surprising, and nothing we can do about it." In fact, Grand-Duke Gaspard had already been to see the Divine on the problem. He was informed the Templars had been dispatched, and repulsed. Julie's seed of revolution wasn't going to be thrown to the fire that easily. Leliana provided much information on the events in court during that time, once the sky split open and spat demons everywhere.

"Marquis, you do not seem to grasp the seriousness of this problem," Brandon said, "No matter what I believe, and what I encourage my flock to believe, if the Divine declares this movement to be heretical, support of the _paysans_ and the _bourgeoisie_ will falter." Which means we'd lose our food, supply of materials needed for weapons, income from merchants, and the countryside would be rife with spies at the very least. Not good. However, there did not appear to be any way for me to dodge this problem.

"It may be unavoidable," I said quietly, "The Chantry can't defy the nobles." The Templars are no match for the armies of Orlais, when you get right down to it. Not even a match for the Empress' personal levies. The Divine ruled right in the middle of the capital of the Empire. The fact she was Orlesian herself was no coincidence either.

"Not without cause," Brandon corrected, "And that is why I have come to you today."

"You think I have the answer?" I scoffed, "I really don't think I have any swing with the Divine." Not the sort that could cause her to tell the entire aristocracy she relied on for protection to take a long walk off a short pier, anyway.

"It is not through a favour that I intend to win," Brandon continued.

"Then how can we?" I asked.

The Revered Mother put her hand on my shoulder, unsettling me a little.

"It has been noticed that you have not stepped inside a chantry chapel since you have arrived," Brandon said gravely, "My fellow clerics tell me that there are many who believe you cannot be sent by the Maker, because you do not worship the Maker and sing his Chant."

"But I do worship the Maker," I said, "Just not in any way you would recognise." And frankly, I was hoping to avoid the whole issue. Christ said to pray in private, something I took to heart. Those who bellowed and shouted about their faith, like Brandon, struck me as trying too hard.

"Or in any way that anyone else recognises," the Revered Mother intoned gravely, "This must change. You are a figure of the highest standing now, eyes will be watching for any reason to destroy you. I cannot allow that to happen. The Maker has spoken to us through your presence."

My face curled with scepticism, I nodded. It was going to be a problem unless we jumped in front of the 'Maker-sent' issue. I utterly refused to state clearly that I was a messenger of the Divine, but there was no harm in reinforcing the image for our own purposes. It would save lives. Those of Julie and Tam especially.

"I give up," I said at last, "What do you want me to do?"

Brandon cracked a smile like I had never seen before, one obviously reserved for when she was in a victorious mood. I felt fatigued just looking at it.

"We go to the Hearth Chantry," she replied, "We can proceed from there."

I nodded again, and the cleric went off to retrieve her mount.

Annoyed at the necessity but understanding the full gravity of the situation, I went to the saddles rack. Hefting the piece of hardened leather over Bellona's back, I secured it with the straps and placed the bridle around her head. I got a grunt for my work from the horse, one that said she was happy to be getting around. Can't really blame her, after being cooped up for so long in winter.

Mother Brandon appeared around the corner on her pony, and inclined her head in thanks for what I was doing. Not sure how to react otherwise, I climbed up onto Bellona and we began moving around the château out of view of the crowds on the parade ground. Apparently the cleric didn't want to be mobbed either, to my intense relief. So, until we came abreast of the space between the building and the gate, there was no possibility of us being seen.

When we did, it was quite a sight.

Julie was atop the wooden stage we had built, speaking in a clear, loud voice to the enraptured crowd. She was dressed in fatigues, beret and all, clearly making sure that she was associated with me even in my absence. Her words were to be my words, in effect. The speech was on the topic of whether or not the people of the Dales could win against the might of Orlais' high nobility, but the exact words I cannot recall. I was too busy admiring the sight of her, as well as her immediate protector.

Behind her was Tam. In full Earth-panoply, longsword and curved dagger held tight, violets eyes searching for any sign of trouble. Her extremely blonde hair fell out from under the rounded desert-pattern helmet, catching the sun. She wasn't in fatigues however, preferring her rather scandalous Qunari garb again now that it had warmed up. She almost appeared to be wearing armour and nothing else from the waist up, which I'm sure was quite a draw for the men in the crowd. And some of the women.

Beside Julie to her immediate right was Armen, looking pleased with himself and watching the spectators with the air of a dog who has its bone. Considering how many people had been saved by magical healing over the course of the winter, acts mostly associated with him, his popularity was at a zenith of sorts. Yet he didn't abandon his Circle robes, a very visible reminder of his origins that I thought he would have discarded by now.

Around the bottom of the platform, and on the stairs, were McNulty and his biggest men. Some decked out in partial plate, grenades hanging off bandoliers. Most were listening to Julie rather than paying attention to their jobs. Beyond that, a good thousand people were tuned in to Radio Marteau, whispering to each other or applauding at a particularly well delivered point.

Tam saw me as we left, and gave me a wink that excited some murmurs in the throng. I grinned, and followed the Revered Mother out onto the stony road to Hearth.

* * *

We entered the palisade with no trouble at all, the guards having no intention of stopping either a Marquis or a Revered Mother. They did advise us to slow down, as there were people going about business in town, but this was something they said to everyone at every opportunity. Too many deaths under horse hooves in the few years previous, apparently.

We were passing Julie's family home, which had been turned into a clinic, when I noticed Delrin Barris standing over a very laid back Leha. The Templar's presence was unsurprising; when he wasn't guarding schoolchildren against the mages, he was guarding patients there. The dwarf on the other hand was sunk into a chair by the pathway, bottle in hand, dumb happy grin on her face. I simply had to know why, and called the Revered Mother to a halt for a moment.

"Hey, Leha!" I said, approaching at a trot, "How's business?"

Barris turned around, opening his mouth to make a complaint until his eyes caught the sight of the Revered Mother, at which point his training kicked in. He gave a closed-fisted salute across his chest, and lowered his head respectfully. Leha giggled at his devotion.

"Do you know how much money we are making?" she declared, raising her bottle, "Absolutely everything is selling like it's solid gold. I had to save the last of the apple vodka!" She took a generous swig, as if we would take it from her if she didn't do so.

"Is it really appropriate to be drinking in such a place, at such a time?" the Revered Mother said disapprovingly, "You are making a fool of yourself." I flinched, preparing for the dwarf to go explosive in response. Instead, the opposite happened.

"Says the fool who wears the silly hat," Leha said, wiggling her finger at the offender, "There's no time like the present, particularly with you dangerous world-changing types around. By the Stone, you're going to get me killed. But at least I'll be rich _and_ drunk." A gentle reminder that she wasn't Andrastian with a surprisingly cogent point about her situation.

Thinking that very appropriate, I burst out laughing. The Revered Mother scowled at me, but I waved it off. In fact, her disapproval made it more funny to me.

"Well enjoy yourself, I have business to attend to," I said, "Carry on, Ser Barris. I suggest ignoring her when she's like this."

The Templar frowned, turning his attention back to the dwarf for a moment before walking back inside the compound, where a gaggle of mages were talking.

Leha eyed me curiously. "What business are you... attending to?" she chirped drunkenly.

"The Marquis is coming with me to the Chantry, so that we may reflect on the Maker's glory," said Mother Brandon proudly, "Something you yourself would benefit greatly from, if you would only see!"

"That true?" asked Leha, skipping over the cleric's enthusiasm with the apathy of intoxication.

"It is," I replied.

"Really?" she continued, "You lose a bet or something?"

"Nope," I said.

Leha closed one eye and looked inside her bottle. She swirled the contents for a moment, smelling it as if trying to detect something unexpected, before putting the whole thing down.

"I think I've drank too much," she said, getting off her seat, "I need to see a healer."

She walked off, calling for a mage, her conversation with us at an end. Leha was well aware of my reluctance to go to the Chantry, and it was to her I most often vented about the hypocrisies of the religion at the time. Little wonder she thought she was going mad upon hearing I was joining the flock.

Without another word, I tugged on Bellona's reins and led the way to the gatehouse. The Revered Mother followed, and we made our way through the streets of the town.

* * *

Conversations under breath followed us as we went, as they often did when I went into Hearth itself. I paid them no real heed. Perhaps I should have. Aside from dodging a few carts and almost running smack into a bunch of playing elven children at the corner of their district, the journey to the town square was otherwise without incident. It took us ten minutes, but we drew up alongside the main doors.

Brandon and I tied up our mounts outside the Chantry itself, and we entered the arched structure, the cleric in front once again.

It was dark inside for the most part, lit by candles or small oil lamps hanging from small chandeliers or on ledges that ran the length of the walls. At the far end was a set of stained glass windows, throwing tinted light of the day onto the golden statue of Andraste herself, flanked by two lions at rest. There were no pews, like you would see in a Christian church, instead worshippers gathered in side alcoves to quietly sing the Chant. I presumed that people would stand for the weekly gathering.

On the raised dias where the statue stood, there were chairs arranged in a circle, presumably for the presiding clerics. The smell of incense almost covered the smell of animal fat, answering the question of where they got oil for lamps in the first place. Echoes of repeated verses and footsteps reverberated around the stone as we moved, and the doors closed behind us.

It was an interesting experience, albeit not particularly impressive. I had seen Rome and Berlin while on leave, after all. I noted the space's features, as the Revered Mother instructed a lay sister to do something.

"Okay, we're here," I said, "What now?"

The lay sister returned to sight before Mother Brandon could answer. With a child in tow. I immediately recognised her as one of the more prominent of Tam's students, and the girl who had sung at the funeral for those who had died against White Mask's chevaliers and men-at-arms. A pretty elfling with black hair. She couldn't have been more than eight years old.

The girl stood there, looking up at me with strange attention, like I wasn't real. That made me a little uncomfortable. I wanted to tell her to stop, though I doubted it would have helped, so I refrained.

"Marquis, meet Lana," the Revered Mother said, "Lana, this is the Marquis de la Fayette."

"I know," the little girl replied, matter-of-factly, "It is good to meet you, sir." Her voice was as lyrical as Ciara's own, but still very much Orlesian.

My eyebrow arched at her good manners, before I remembered that Tam was her teacher.

As I am sure there are questions about it; yes, this is _the_ Lana Duquesne, future high chancellor. It gives me no small amount of pleasure to recall this, our first meeting. Particularly as she has been glorified and vilified in equal measure. She was the first of a generation brought up to value liberty, and hated tyranny wherever she saw it. Which put more than one of us on the spot, as you can imagine.

"The pleasure is all mine," I said, with an uncertain glance at Mother Brandon.

"Lana, this is the first time the Marquis has ever been in a chantry," Brandon start, her tone condescending slightly as one usually does with children.

"Is that because the Maker sent him from another world?" Lana interrupted precociously.

"Yes, it is," said Brandon patiently. She was completely unaware of the Tevinter blood magic that actually caused it. Not that it mattered when she finally was informed, but a lot more had happened by that stage. I have no doubt she would have found the news distressing at that moment.

"So he needs help, huh?" said Lana, with a frown that melted my heart. It was like watching a puppy. The Revered Mother nodded solemnly. The little girl circled me, alarmingly like a shark investigating its prey.

"Lana is my aide for those new to the faith," Brandon proclaimed with amusement, "I leave you in her very capable hands."

I frowned. Evidently almost everyone 'new to the faith' was four or five years old at most. Doubt there were many Dalish or Avvar coming in to convert, put it that way. The Revered Mother bent over and whispered something into the child's ear, getting a rapid nodding motion when she was done.

"Marquis," Brandon said, as she bowed to take her leave.

Before I could object, the kid grabbed my left hand with both of her own little ones, and pulled me along with surprising energy. Amused onlookers in Chantry robes followed us, stopping their chanting and gathering at the bottom of the raised section. Lana dragged me up onto it, and around the circle of priestly chairs to below the stained glass.

A thin arm pointed up at the first one on the left.

"Andraste was born free, but taken by the magisters," Lana reported, "And we chant so that the same will not happen to us." One of the reasons for doing so, at any rate. It was also the same reason the Chantry wanted to lock people up in towers for the mere possession of magical blood.

Lana appeared to wait for my response, which put me off-foot.

"Eh, good idea?" I said warily, "Although, if any magisters show up, I can take care of them. Don't you worry about them." Well, any _other_ magisters. Good thing there was only one who knew of my little trick.

This satisfied Lana, and I got a short little nod for it, sending a ripple through her little robes with the force of it.

"Revered Mother Brandon said that you can't be hurt by magic," Lana said, "The Maker sent you to protect us." I didn't have the heart to tell her the truth of my arrival, but I did consider something else.

While it was Tevinter ritual that brought me to Thedas, a question remained. Why me? It seemed that the foiling of the magisters' plan two thousand years ago had happened for reasons unknown. Had the Maker intervened to prevent them from destroying the world? It seemed possible to me. The timing of my own arrival, and that I had been chosen at all, seemed more than coincidence. Only the memory of Fraser's men kept me from embracing the idea of destiny entirely.

So, I had absolutely no qualms with confirming the story, even if it was on faith alone.

"It seems that way," I agreed.

Lana smiled widely, clutching at her clothes. She was very pleased to hear it.

"Then, if you sing the Chant of Light, maybe the Maker will listen!" she said excitedly, "I can teach you, if you want!"

Thus was revealed Mother Brandon's true hope, as well as that of many of the pilgrims. If I possessed a power against magic, perhaps I had the Maker's ear. It was hard to be reluctant in the face of Lana's enthusiasm, and it would be necessary. I knew Julie would chew on my ear if I didn't accept such an excellent proposal, and doing so would be dismissing a key part of a culture that I probably would have to live with for the rest of my life.

"I would like that," I said.

The girl took my hand again and pulled me towards the front doors again, through the small gathering of chantry brothers and sisters that had been listening quietly.

"I have a book at home with the canticles, I can use that to show you," Lana said, letting me go as I followed at her quick pace, "We can walk there now!"

"Why walk when we can ride?" I said with a wave of my hand.

"Oh! I've never been on a horse before!" Lana said. She was from the town, evidently.

The worshippers and clerics were following us, with a strange sense of anticipation. Lana skipped along ahead of me, oblivious. I glanced back at them, wondering what the hell they were doing. They noticed, and a ripple of poor dissembling went over their faces. Heads swivelled quickly away from my direction. Not suspicious at all.

"You can come too, if you want," I shouted back to them, "No shame in asking."

Several of them jumped, as if out of their skin, while others shamelessly took up the offer and sped up to follow. It wasn't really a sincere thing, I just wanted to put them off balance. A case of my mouth moving before my head, I guess. Regardless, I tolerated their advance as we made our way to the closed front doors.

As we approached, it struck me as very odd that they were closed in the middle of the day. It wasn't winter any more, so letting in the cold wasn't the issue. There were two young boys assigned to opening them, and they began pulling furiously on the ropes attached to each door as we drew close. I took one last look at those following us, not paying much attention to the situation to my front until I was on the very threshold of the chantry's gateway.

I stopped dead at the the sight of the huge crowd, and was greeted by a rapturous cheer from a thousand throats. It was a truly mixed crowd. I even saw the yellow feather of a chevalier here and there.

Led by Julie and the Revered Mother on horseback, no less. It had been a set-up all along, or rather, they had come up with this as a means to maximise publicity of my acceptance of the Chantry. Even Lana seemed to be in on it, still trying to pull me to my horse without so much as a passing glance at the mob of people. I must have looked utterly stunned, because Tam approached with a concerned look on her face.

"Sorry, it was the only way to make sure that we weren't condemned," the Qunari said with a frown.

That broke the spell, and I shook my head a little to regain my concentration and voice. I decided to play the part quickly, before my reluctance spoiled the whole point of the stunt.

"I understand," I said before turning back to the kid latched onto my arm, "Let's get out of here, shall we?"

Lana gave another firm nod, and let me approach Bellona. My horse took the noise and rabble with her expected stoic poise. Glad that one of us was, I climbed up into the saddle with some trepidation. Tam grabbed Lana off the ground and handed her up to me. I placed the child side-saddle on my lap, and gave Bellona a nudge to get going, which she did.

I waved at the crowd as we turned, getting another loud roar for my trouble.

Julie and Mother Brandon rode up alongside me as the crowd parted to allow our passage.

"I knew you wouldn't let us down," Julie reported with a warm smile, Revas trotting along excitedly beside Bellona's heavier footfalls.

"I try," I said flatly, giving another wave instead of getting the hell out of there at speed, as I wanted to.

Little did I know that it was the beginning of a huge swell of support for our cause. I had passed a crucial test in the eyes of many. To the largely uneducated masses, the notion that a demon could enter a Chantry willingly was impossible. So, it was essentially proof in their eyes that I was not a Fade-monster. All the better that I wasn't aware I was being tested. Of course, it's utter nonsense. Demons can go into chantries if they want to. Andraste's divine presence protects against them only through the training of Templars and Seekers, for the most part.

Julie and Tam made the unwelcome surprise worth the trouble later, at least.

* * *

 _AUTHOR'S NOTE: Apologies for the lateness of this chapter, I was binge-reading the very interesting "Victory at Ostagar" by Arsinoe de Blassenville._

 _Originally in preparation for the next volume's planning, which will be entitled "Ferelden"._

 _This volume, "Revolution", is going to be the most ambitious yet. I'm looking forward to getting it out there for you guys to read, particularly as I've been getting very complimentary reviews of late. I think people will be very much surprised by how it goes too._

 _To all readers who have or haven't reviewed: I'd like to know how you found out about this story, and would like if you told me via reviews. Thanks in advance!_

 _ **Azariah Kyras:**_ _I have thought about writing an accompanying story called 'Outlanders' to explore the lives of the people who survived longer than a few days after being dumped on Thedas, the story of Keijiro and maybe the story of Tiberius, but I just don't have the time. Between reality, this story, and my far too numerous Mass Effect stories, I couldn't get it done._

 _I may give a list of "undiscovered" Outlanders later and invite you, my cheery fans, to write stories about them._

 ** _5 Coloured Walker:_** _Your eye is appreciated as always._

 ** _Drgyen:_** _Cheers for keeping the TV Tropes page updated, first of all!_

 _Brood mare thing indeed! It isn't going to be a harem fic no more than it already is, and I don't consider it to be one now, but nobility has an obsession with blood and heirs already._

 ** _Dur'id the Druid:_** _Cheers! Tiberius is attempting to manipulate Sam, and the heirlooms most important to him are not among the things he gave over. Keijiro would have ran out of bullets very quickly, so carrying around his rifle and pistol would have been reserved for the first few months of his stay alone. The rest was essentially useless to him, as he cannot read Japanese. Furthermore, I think it was pretty heavily implied that Keijiro himself wanted the items passed to another Outlander, in case that person made it back to Earth._

 ** _Asahar4:_** _As much as I appreciate advocacy, Aurelia won't be Sam's lover. She will be in the story though._

 ** _JaegarCryptic:_** _I find that Bioware did a less fullsome job explaining the setting than it did with Mass Effect, particularly to people just getting started with it. I wasn't really into it myself until I played through Inquisition. I still haven't played DA2, though I read up extensively on it so I could write this. Very glad you approve of my take on the whole thing._

 _ **Kai'kel the Fereldan Magister:**_ _You would pay good money? Don't say things like that, or I'll go try and sell stories instead of putting them up for free as fan fiction! I've found that I write much better in the first person autobiographical than third person, so it was a decision born of that realisation. That it happens to be an excellent framing device was a happy coincidence that I'm glad to have embraced fully._

 _The threesome seems to have irked more than one person, but it serves a large number of purposes in the plot. I think everyone who had read past its introduction understands by now that it isn't for mere titillation. Those who haven't seem content to bitch about it and not read any further._

 _Julie's realism is learned from the history of Earth. She has no desire to be a failure, so takes those lessons to heart. I'm glad you think she makes sense, as I've worked hard to make it so._

 _Armen is a fun character, perhaps the most vindictive of the group yet the Joker as well. I love writing him._

 _Ciara will be much more important going forward into this volume, and has been quiet largely in preparation for this volume. Her role requires such a set up._

 _Leha is a very very important character. In plot terms, she's the capitalist, the mercantile innovator, and in character terms, the sceptic to Julie's idealism and Sam's cynicism. Ironically, I'm not a fan of Oghren._

 _Orlais' exaggerated nobility is usually only seen in the context of court life, where such things wouldn't actually threaten the country's prosperity. I knew it had to be different outside of Halamshiral and Val Royeaux, so I used the French Ancien Regime and the Kingdom of England as benchmarks and worked on the more general culture of the country from there. Orlais' status as a military power has to be attributed to more than numbers, and its status as a hugely rich country has to be attributed to more than having lots of land. The Baron and Baroness are perhaps the characters that exemplify this the most._

 _Sam is unsure as to what deity rules Thedas, but picks up much of the culture of Andrastianism through decades of contact with it. He conflates the two out of necessity for the most part. Essentially, he believes in only one God that created absolutely everything, which is appropriate for any Christian, but is unsure if the Maker is that God or is simply a powerful entity. He leans towards the former, simply due to the similarity in message despite the difference in delivery._

 _In the top three fanfics ever? Thank you very much._

 _ **Comavampure:**_ _Merci beaucoup._

 _ **Liquidxdus:**_ _A moderate pace that will probably see the story top out at a million words. Always glad to spur on a review from people who don't usually partake, means I'm definitely doing something right!  
_


	25. Chapter 25: The Barons' Revolt

**Chapter Twenty-Five: The Barons' Revolt**

My agreement to learn and participate in the rites of the Andrastian Chantry, while important to grow our support, was superseded as a priority due to the return of the nobility from the royal court. The bottom line was that I was taught the basics by a child, albeit a very bright and interesting one, and the points of contention within the religion by the much less interesting Revered Mother Brandon. The nobility was the real power in the country, and I couldn't co-opt them as easily.

Orlais would have been an unwieldy creature, had it not been for its centralised government. It was the largest and perhaps the most populous empire on Thedas, which presented serious problems for its governance. Nobles, distant and possessing great wealth and military forces of their own, would have been tempted to set up as monarchs in their own right, fracturing the Empire into a dozen or more pieces. Nevarra was militarised to avoid such a fate, and wasn't as extensive territorially anyway. Ferelden's monarchy ruled by consent of the nobility. Both lived under the threat of Orlesian conquest to an extent that made disunity suicidal. Orlais itself had no such threat to unite it, nor a system of government that prevented rebellion. Only Tevinter or the Qunari could hope to challenge its full might directly, and they were far too busy fighting each other.

To counteract this reality, the aristocracy spent every winter together in the Winter Palace at Halamshiral, a provision enforced by law. Where they could be watched, where they could be influenced, where their plots could be undone at the source. This is how the Emperors and Empresses of Orlais controlled the vast and sprawling bloodlines. It gave no shortage of opportunities to the nobles themselves of course, not only to fight for position among themselves but to aim higher. The Great Game was the great solution to Orlais' size.

There were only ever two important questions in Orlesian politics in the end. "Who would rule what piece of land?" and "Should we go to war?" The former was by far the most important, and every means to answer it were employed. The latter was an extension of the former, not always answered, and not always answered by the Orlesian themselves, as the Marchers, Fereldans and Neverrans could attest to. There were no questions about how society was run. There were no questions about the justice of keeping elves, Andrastian or not, locked up in ghettos. There were none about the wisdom of keeping most of the productive populace ignorant and downtrodden, rather than invested in the success of the Empire as a whole.

No questions of that sort, not openly. Until Julie Marteau came along.

Even among the nobility, her words were a naked flame to a tinderbox, setting off a wildfire of new questions. If Orlais was so great, how come it had been thrown from Ferelden, a tiny country with a mere twentieth of the population? How had it been thrown from the Free Marches by disorganised, treacherous rabble? How had the Neverrans stubbornly refused to be defeated? Why should the whole running of the Empire be dependent on the slaughter of fellow Orlesians? Why should every noble from chevalier to Grand-Duke have to live in fear of their children being assassinated by jealous rivals? Why should mages be locked away, their duty to their countrymen abdicated by the fear of demon possessions? Was this Andraste's vision for the world?

These questions haunted the nobles in particular, for their chivalry was brought into question by the inconvenient truths. The glory and strength of their country mattered deeply to them, just as the liberties and opportunities of the country mattered to the commoners. Julie's message may not have been so powerful in normal circumstances, but the Empire was teetering on the edge of civil war. Kirkwall had made things even worse, as tensions between mages and Templars drew in the noble supporters of both.

And so, in the winter of 9:38-39, the plotting in the Winter Palace took on a whole new character. The nobles began to plot against each other not for their own interests, but for those of their country. The battle was to be drawn along ideological lines. Those who believed that the crippling of the common folk was the crippling of the Empire, against those who believed the commons could not be trusted to join the national enterprise. Those who believed elves could be tied to the cause of the Empire via the common faith, versus those who saw the elves as subhuman, worthy only of contempt. Those who believed mages could serve the country, versus those who feared and hated everything to do with magic. There were very few fence-sitters, as even if you didn't care about one matter, another would provoke you.

This text may be the only record of the details of this startling and new conflict at its inception, in the words of those who initiated it.

* * *

The Ides of March, Thirty-Ninth Year of the Dragon Age.

The few days previous had been taken up with drills of all kinds, for both my people and I. With the seneschal of Hearth, we organised the welcoming party. All the preparations had been made. Meanwhile, I had split my time between insuring the required... tools were ready and learning about the Chant of Light.

Julie had spent the entirety of that day with her sisters. Élodie was ready to burst, already weeks overdue. Twins were on the way. Claire was also ready to burst, with anticipation rather than birth. Tam and Leha followed me around when I wasn't studying, the former quietly watching over me in a strangely protective way, the latter asking innocuous questions about my divinity while occasionally drinking from a flask of Julie's manufacture. The last of the apple vodka, I would assume. Ciara had disappeared somewhere, and Armen was being harassed by Velarana over some issue or another. Something about flaunting magic. Admittedly, the smiling idiot's flaunting was very useful when conducting loud tests, as his lightning could produce equally loud thunderclaps if he wanted it to. Perhaps that's what she was complaining about. My fault, I guess.

On the day in question, I woke up at six o'clock in the morning, the sun creeping into the sky. Julie had crept into bed in the night, I discovered, leaving Tam wedged up against me in a pleasant way. The bed was big enough, Tam was drawn to heat in the night by instinct. I was quite content to stay there, until Tam poked me in the shoulder with the curve of her horned head, rousing me.

All for the best, as I was to inspect everyone in half an hour.

I climbed out of bed, getting a growl from Tam for my trouble as she buried her face in the pillow I left behind, trying to keep the warmth of it. The noise woke Julie up, who leapt up like she hadn't even been asleep. I was startled by the motion in my dazed state, almost falling over until I caught myself.

"I'm coming with you," Julie said, "We need to talk."

That sent a shiver down my spine of the bad sort.

"Sure, why not," I said uneasily, "Tam, are you coming?" I needed reinforcements.

Tam answered by tossing the pillow aside with a deep frown that creased her forehead as much as her mouth, and rose up as naked as she was. Neither Julie nor I were under any illusions as to what she was thinking. Something along the lines of 'I really don't want to get up, but I'm not leaving either of you alone'. Julie's tone had been that grave. Thank you, Tam.

So we washed ourselves with water I had brought up the night before, got dressed in our usual fashions, fatigues for Julie and I, loose Qunari garb for Tam, armour on top of both, weapons hanging off that.

I really missed running water, incidentally. It wasn't something I'd get to have again until a year and a half later. Then, it was hard to enjoy it with Pentaghast and Trevelyan kicking around the place. Not to mention that damned short-ass with the bizarre crossbow. And that was even before the sky decided to split itself open at the command of an immortal prick. I do digress.

We exited the château, which was bustling with activity as sleepy civilians wandered around to watch the show, and onto the parade ground. There the regiments were getting prepared for the day's events, which promised to be of great note to all concerned. Soprano's Rangers were already in proper order, the sharpshooters standing in perfect formation with fixed-bayonets glinting in the warm glow of the morning, the lancers and longbows drawn up alongside them. McNulty's Grenadiers were only arriving. Mike's Pikes had collapsed their weapons in two and were practising a quick march at the opposite end of the space as billmen.

I have to say it filled me with complete pride to see it. That I could muster such fine men and women in less than a day, and have them fully prepared to put on a parade or fight a battle in not much more time, was something I considered to be a great accomplishment. It still is.

The Baron asked about the capabilities of my troops in his letter, and it was my intention to show him those capabilities immediately. Absolutely everything was being readied for the display. Provided the nerves of the least experienced held, I was confident we could defeat any force of the same size in the world. The nobles needed to know that, preferably before they made decisions on the subject of resisting the Grand-Duke and his own lackeys.

"Well Sam," Julie said, inhaling a deep breath, "I can do a lot of things, but when it comes to this, you really do know your craft." Her eyes scanned my troops, her troops, like they were the soldiers of God. Perhaps she thought they were, angels come to rip up the chains around her country.

"The _antaam_ would almost certainly be defeated by them, unless they brought far more than we have," said Tam, sounding very pleased at that, "I am sure there hasn't been an army like them in all the history of this world."

That was true in more ways that mere armaments. Elves made up the bulk of course, it was the Dales, but there were humans too and even a few dwarva. There were mages, non-mages, and something in between. But we'll get to that. I suppose the Grey Wardens are the closest approximation in terms of both discipline and capability.

"Exactly," said Julie, turning to the two of us, "I was foolish to try and do this alone. I am not a general." She sounded like she was embarrassed.

"But you thought you'd give it a try anyway," I replied flatly, "Yes, that was a dumbass move." Throwing around propaganda and amassing a small arsenal of weapons without any clue how to fight a war beyond what you've read in books is truly not a good idea.

"The importance of everything got the better of me," Julie admitted, "And I disregarded your feelings." Which had been pretty strong at the time, and clearly stated.

"Yes, you did," said Tam, "But we cannot expect you to act against your conscience. I would still be a Tamassran of the Qun if I believed otherwise, and I do not wish to dwell on that." She made a face like she had eaten something nasty, her memories of the Qun coming back to her at that moment. Julie took her hand, snapping her out of it. I was glad she did, Tam's remembrances were unpleasant even to look at.

"Thank you," said Julie, planting a kiss on the Qunari's cheek.

Since we were clearing the air, I wasn't yet satisfied.

"You decided to build weapons behind my back," I said, crossing my arms, "Without paying attention to any of my warnings about weapons getting ahead of ideas."

"Not the sort of attention you intended, no," Julie said.

"And then you go stirring the pot," I continued, "Promising bread and freedom to the peasants, victory and strength to the petty nobility, a place at the table to the merchants..."

"I did," she said, far less ashamedly than I had hoped.

"And you'd do it again in a heartbeat," I intoned gravely

"Perhaps not in the same way," Julie objected, "But yes."

I frowned for a moment, wondering how she thought she could have convinced me to get on board earlier. I didn't think it was possible. Not before I saw the savagery and cruelty of the Templars. Not before I had seen men, women and children starving in a mineshaft.

"If you're apologising, I accept your apology," I said quickly, not wanting to dwell on her deception much myself, "In the end, you were right and I was wrong. That's what matters. If I had my way, we would be completely unprepared right now, with no real allies to call on. What you did gave us half of Orlais to work with, and a lot of nobles on top of that."

I am really a man who values the ends as opposed to the means, provided the means aren't genocidal. Survival requires that some feelings get hurt, more often than not. That often strikes civilians as harsh, but I assure you, the point of this attitude is not to offend. I felt a lot better about Julie because of it. It was obvious she lied as much to protect me as to promote her own goals, and her own goals were extremely worthy and entirely unselfish.

"That does not make what I did any less..." Julie started, searching for the word, "..unkind." Couldn't argue with that.

"Then learn from the mistake," I said, still watching the efforts beyond.

Julie approached, bringing Tam along with us, green eyes ablaze. "I promise I won't betray you ever again," she said with absolute sincerity, "The three of us are bonded by the Maker, our meeting was fate. I believe that more than ever."

Despite my albeit shrinking doubts as to our fate, I still grinned like an idiot, and got a kiss for my trouble. Which I didn't have much time to appreciate before Tam brought herself around both Julie and I, warmly hugging us. I was certain at that moment that all the armies of tyranny and death could not resist us if we were united.

Well, as long as we had two particular elves with us. The two in question arrived promptly.

Armen padded up to us in his robes, clearing his throat to get our attention. I turned as Tam released me, and saw that Ciara was with him, back in her Dalish hunting garb now that the pilgrims had finally deemed it time to get lost. The mage was looking very pleased. It was a good day for his kind too, after all.

"You've made up, I see," he said, a sly smile on his face, "Took you long enough. The tension was tiresome."

We all groaned at the sight of him, and Tam hardened her stance as she always did in the presence of mages, friendly or not. I had not precipitated the full reconciliation as I should have, but I wasn't really in the mood to be reminded of this by the other guy who had kept quiet about the plans to overthrow the old order by force.

"By Andraste," Julie exclaimed, "You really are tedious sometimes, do you know that?"

"I know," Armen replied, "But one of us has to be, to protect us all."

"No one said it had to be you," Tam said.

"It would be strange if it was someone else," Ciara giggled.

Everyone except Armen nodded their agreement with that sentiment, while the man in question simply shrugged it away. We stood around, nothing to say but comfortable in each other's presence once again.

"So... today is the day that the war starts," Armen said.

"Most likely," Julie said, stepping out towards the parade ground a little, "We have to impress the nobles, but I don't think that is going to be an obstacle."

The proof was before us; disciplined lines of people willing to put their lives on the line, and take the lives of others, to follow our commands. It was a heavy responsibility, and one that would fall largely on my shoulders when we got right down to it. The others would have their roles, of course, but telling people to kill other people would be mine. It can weigh on the soul, if you aren't prepared or used to it.

"Can we win?" Ciara asked, "I mean, how many shem nobles are going to be with us?"

"Enough," Julie replied, "All we have to do is hold out against whatever is thrown at us by the Grand Duke or others. Other parts of Orlais will rise up against Gaspard when they see our success, The Empress will take advantage of the situation to remove him from the Game and make reforms. It's not like we have to march on Val Royeaux." Perhaps it would have been better if we had. Regardless, I was very surprised at this statement.

"Wait, _that's_ your plan?" I asked incredulously, "That's very... restrained."

"Of course," Julie snorted, "I _have_ read your history books, Sam. There's no need to invite our enemies to invade by trying to topple the Empress, when we can make her work for us. I am still Orlesian, I do not want to see foreigners take advantage of our uprising and I want to minimise the spilling of Orlesian blood."

Which made a certain amount of sense. By being moderate in her aims while appealing to the religious sensibilities of the country, Julie was aiming for maximum public support at all levels of society. There was no small amount of public support for Celene. And, if the higher authorities rebuked her reasonable demands, she would have the mob turn on those same authorities with a vengeance for putting the country in danger and for repressing the movement. Machiavelli would be laughing with glee at the notion, no doubt.

Like I said, the woman was a genius.

"In fact, the Empress may be the only person in Thedas who has the power to stand up to the Chantry," Armen noted aloud, "As long as she has enough popular support, elves and mages may find refuge in Orlais. If we succeed."

"Then you best pray that we do succeed," Tam said lowly, "Otherwise, death may be the easy path for us."

No one disagreed aloud, but didn't want to vocalise their shared fears either.

Shortly, our train of nasty thoughts was interrupted by the arrival of the Knight-Enchanters, marching through the main gate to join the others. They were not in any sort of order, simply arriving in clumps. Velarana, or Colonel Yesas Velarana to use her new title, was at the head of them alongside Delrin Barris and the Lucrosian leader, Adam Valle. Her battlemages had refused to accept the training I offered, so although they were very much a part of our little army, they were not trained to fight as a unit. I scowled as I saw them, wishing to whip them into shape but unable to convince them to let me do so.

The Colonel, the Templar and the Lucrosian all approached us, making little bows towards Julie and I, before the Colonel reported.

"The dockyards are ready, Marquis," Velarana said, "We will be able to parade down them with adequate room for spectators and the... display."

Clearing the whole length of the docks would have taken far longer, without magical levitations to speed things along. Of course, the Baron's glorified secretary had helped immensely, convincing the owners of the clutter to store things on their property on pain of large fines, but I defused any resentment for that by promising a feast for the dockyard workers afterwards.

"Thank you, Colonel," I said cheerily, "And thank you, _Monsieur_ Valle for your assistance with everything. The Tranquils are damned good."

The Lucrosian faction of the mages, those interested in making money as much as Leha was, had taken the Tranquils we liberated from the Wolf's Lair under their wing. After the Templar attack, Valle had come to me with a certain proposal, one that I accepted wholeheartedly. It had been one of the big reasons we were armed to the teeth by the time trouble came, and one of the reasons why our most powerful weapons had trained folks to use them.

"They seem content to do what you ask of them," Valle said, stroking his brown and grey beard, "But then, they are content with anything asked of them. I worry that they may become prime targets for our enemies..." Not an unjustified concern, I thought.

"And we will do everything in our power to protect them, while they help protect us," Julie said, shaking the man's hand, "Your support on this will go far." Further than we would have liked too.

"I have to admit, it does seem like an excellent role for them," Barris said, "Using the Tranquil as servants almost seems like a waste now." A complete and utter waste, considering what we managed to get them to do, as well as their other role as sex slaves for unscrupulous Templars.

"I wouldn't get any ideas about making more of them," Armen said bitterly, "Useful or not." I shared the sentiment.

Barris glanced at me, to gauge my reaction, and found my face stoney with agreement. Wiping someone's mind like that was horrendous, and the necessity of it had not been demonstrated to me. Indeed, it was obvious that the vast majority of 'tranquilisations' were not done out of necessity, but rather to suppress dissent or supply emotionless workers to the Circles. Enchanting was big business, after all. The Templar didn't respond to the point.

"We don't need any more," said Tam, leaving the 'yet' unsaid. Armen seemed to take that as a prohibition and calmed down. I reminded myself to find some way to calm him down at these moments.

"My mages wish to rest, Marquis," Velarana said, maintaining a professional tone, "The Libertarians can march around for the Baron, but the presences of all of the mages might spark panic."

Opinion hadn't softened to the degree where there was absolutely no hostility to mages. The hardliners would make themselves felt in time, but I agreed that it was prudent to delay that hour for as long as possible. Out of sight, out of mind. To most, mages curing disease and building things was okay because those are useful things. Mages marching around might scare people. I blame Tevinter, personally, and I'm sure many would have agreed.

"No problem," I said, before Julie could put her boot in.

Velarana bowed and departed, Barris going with her. Julie crossed her arms and hmmed to herself once they were out of earshot, her brow creased in thought. A sight I see often, even today. The reason for it this time was the Knight-Enchanter's rather startling move to the top of the table in our little community.

"She is getting ambitious," Julie said suddenly, turning to Armen and Valle, "Is that going to be a problem?"

Both Valle and Armen looked at each other in amusement, the latter smirking more deeply than he had been already. A polite chuckle erupted from Valle. So, obviously it wasn't going to be a problem.

"Colonel Velarana is under the impression that she is the senior enchanter of our new 'Circle', so to speak," Valle explained, "And while she does command the largest fraternity presence, I have aligned my Lucrosians with the Libertarians as a counterbalance. The Colonel is simply displeased at the development."

I smirked myself at that, glad to see that the mages were not too holier-than-thou to engage in a little infighting. It was a sign they were getting comfortable, which was all the better for us. No doubt Julie thought well of it too, albeit in a more divide and conquer way.

It is perhaps the greatest irony of our existence that this rather minuscule disagreement between the mages would lead to the fully formed democratic political system we see today.

"Just as long as no one is throwing lightning around trying to kill one another," Tam intoned, "We can all get along nicely without that."

Considering that offending parties would taste my boot-heel if they did start that sort of crap, a chuckle escaped my lips at the very idea of Velarana starting anything. She knew as well as I did who would end up winning that fight, and how costly such a conflict would be. Her own moderate nature restrained her ambitions too, and it was that combination that would keep the mages firmly at our side through the turmoil of the years following.

* * *

The Baron's ornate barge finally arrived a little after high noon, a brisk breeze blowing upriver helping things along to the extent that rowers weren't required. It was one of the great advantages of the riverways in that part of the Dales; to go upstream you could sail, to go downstream you could let the swell do the work without much worry about running aground. The barge itself wasn't a large craft, in fact it wasn't much larger than a half dozen wagons length wise, but it was accompanied by a large number of smaller _bateaux_. The Baron's sigil, a castle with flames spouting out of the top of it, waved proudly alongside the royal banner on the prow. It was something to see, certainly.

I think we outclassed it as an attraction though.

Crowds packed onto the tops of the wall, onto roofs of warehouses and into the raised space between the dockyard and town wall itself. All wanted to see what would happen. Awaiting the Baron, Baroness and their noble allies was one thousand, two hundred professional soldiers.

Musketeers, sword-grenadiers, longbowmen, crossbowmen, mages, lancers and pikemen. Glistening bayonets on muskets held to attention. Short swords and curved shields in front of grenades. Broadswords sheathed, and roundshields held together with bows. Crossbows held out like rifles. Pikes held half-haft at rest. Lances over shoulders, reins in hand. Armour ranging from chainmail over padding to ex-Templar plate, almost all of it stripped from the dead. Round helmets on all of their heads, all-metal clones of my own. Deadly weapons, but most of the people holding them had not yet seen a real battle. I did not bother hoping that they never would, it was a foregone conclusion by this point.

The regiments had their own banners, all based on the same design chosen by Julie after the Templar attack. A large white five pointed star on a blue field. Bonnie blue flags, to people of my world. Of course, each unit had small variations. Soprano's Rangers had crossed muskets flanked by arrows on the star, for instance.

And of course, there were the new, terrifying weapons I had helped create. Twenty-one cast iron, silverite-bore rifled cannons. Fifteen light cannons, for use in field battles. Five heavy cannons, for cracking walls. One heavy siege gun, for annihilating anything tougher than a regular wall, a weapon that could have sunk a Qunari dreadnought with a single shot. Their long black barrels aimed across the quiet streaming of the river,

All of them were lined up at the edge of the water, with just enough room to load, their wheels raised and support struts in place. Around them, the Tranquil stood at the ready, cannon-ramming devices held like pikes. Fifty of them had come with us from the Wolf's Lair, but more came out of hiding with a few mages that had fled with them for their own protection. Fighting was the role we had discussed earlier. Without them, we never would have been able to train people in time, and the Tranquil learn very quickly indeed. Without emotional clutter and utterly unquestioning, they made perfect soldiers in theory. As we awaited the barge to moor, they were stood at unnaturally perfect attention, the sort that would have hurt the ordinary soldier. The sight sent a shiver down my spine. It wasn't easy to forget how they were made that way, and it wasn't the only thing sending me shivers.

I was watching this from a podium, the same one Julie used for her speeches that we had moved to the docks, rubbing my hands together as the breeze cut into me and muttering to myself. Not the most dignified sight, considering there were more than a few gazes upon me at the time. Most of us were in Earth panoply, even Ciara and Leha, although they looked ridiculous due to their size. Armen was the exception as always, keeping to his always-spotless Circle robes. That no one else was shivering but me despite our uniforms being designed for desert wear made me feel even colder. I was quickly noticed. Julie quickly stuck her left hand between my own, stopping my movement dead. Her hand was very warm, by some miracle.

"Thanks," I said, clutching the hand for a moment like it was a life preserve, before taking a set of gloves she offered.

"You're still cold," Julie said, matter-of-factly, "We'll get some hot tea in the _Palais_ later." There was better refreshments than tea waiting for me, and had I known, I would have rushed off immediately. Alas, I did not know.

I nodded, pulling the gloves on quickly. It felt much better, even with the prospect of a summit with a bunch of inbred nobles ahead of me. Tam let out an amused breath at my obvious relief, before settling into a more straight pose. I wondered why, and turned to see servants attaching the barge to a ramp.

The Baron stepped off the vessel and onto the docks first, closely followed by the Baroness and two small children. All of them were wearing red masks and smart grey silk clothing that was positively spartan by Orlesian standards. The Baroness's mask was the restrained variation I remembered so vividly from Halamshiral, but the children wore the same, elaborate design as their father. The masks were obviously too large for them, which was cute, and they had to be led by the hand of their mother. A cheer went up as they exited, followed by some trumpets sounding a brief salute, as was appropriate. The royal governor had returned, after all. The waving of blue banners in the crowd intensified as the Baron gave a wave.

"Call that a salute?" Julie snorted, "We're going to shake their bones." I smiled at that. We had tested the cannons, and let's just say there was a reason we needed magical thunder to cover our tracks. Though, this was the first time we would ever fire the weapons at maximum range. That is to say, with full gaatlok charges in an open space at proper elevation.

"Better hope the damned things don't blow up on us," Leha grumbled, "We're a little close to avoid dying if that happens." Which was true. However, Julie and Armen had measured the strength of various compositions of gunpowder to a tee by this point, and combined with good knowledge of metals, were as sure as they could be about the tolerances of the cannons.

"I could stick you in there head first," said Armen to the dwarf, "And they would still be perfectly safe." Leha frowned, doubting it.

"Look at those shems," said Ciara, pointing when she really should not have been.

My eyes moved from the Baron and his family, now proceeding along the docks, inspecting our troops, to the others.

A large procession of adults and children streamed off the barge. About twenty adult nobles, most in garb that looked more like a multi-level cake than something you'd deem appropriate to wear. The skirts of the women could have hidden two men underneath them with ease, an enduring fashion in Orlais that we ourselves would exploit some years later. They were accompanied by mostly elven servants, and the masked children were led off by these rather than their parents. I found myself quietly admiring the Baroness for her more direct approach, rather than palming off the parenting job on some poor maid. Then I remembered she tried to have me killed, more than once, and my sympathy dampened.

The whole flock of them walked along the open space between the water's edge and the ranks of my soldiers, gawking and talking among themselves. It was like watching a puppet show, because of the masks. They were of every colour, from subtle dark blue to radioactive green, some had gilded rims, others had pearls or jewels encrusted along the edges. Most were shaped like human faces, but one man's was a silver and black skull shape, with a chevalier's yellow feather flowing off of one side. He seemed the most interested in the troops, taking up the rear with a younger woman as a result of his interest.

I found myself a bit bewildered that such people could want to support Julie's cause, given how feverish her criticisms of such excess was. There was no time to sort out my thoughts, as the Baron climbed the stairs and joined us on the platform with his family.

"Marquis, Marquise, may I present my children, Antoine and Océane," the Baron said in Orlesian, putting his hands on the shoulders of the kids as they stood in front of them, "Children, this is the Marquis and Marquise de la Fayette." Ignoring all those without noble titles, as you can imagine. The eyes of the children briefly fixed themselves on Ciara and Tam, this being the first time either of them had seen a Qunari or a Dalish elf, but they were too well bred to go beyond that.

"A pleasure to meet you," the kids said in unison, curtsying slightly. The son was about eight, and the daughter six. I wondered how the hell they were trained to act so politely. I could have never been like that at their age. Orlesian tutors were almost as strict as tamassrans, of course.

"It's a delight to meet you too," smiled Julie, switching to Common while she crouched down to eye level with them, "We have a surprise for you, but you must promise me not to be scared. It's going to be loud." I thought this would raise hackles from the Baroness, but Orlais is a different planet. Mistresses are part of the Game, at least for nobles. The two children got a little excited, and a little more curious.

"Why don't you have a mask?" asked Océane suddenly, rubbing her hands together. That produced a laugh from Baron, who muttered about it being a good question to his unamused wife. Julie thumbed over her shoulder to me.

"My loved one is from a land where they do not wear masks," Julie explained, "So I do not wear one in public, most of the time." She still had one, of course, and not a _bourgeoise_ half-mask like her sisters either.

"But how can you be a noble without a mask?" asked Antoine in confusion, "It means everyone can see your face!" Even I snorted at the urgency of the little guy's tone. Being able to hide one's reaction behind a mask is of course useful if talk is the weapon used publicly. My weapons were a little more overt than words, so I didn't need a mask, but I couldn't exactly tell him that.

"Nobles in other countries don't wear masks either," I said, "But they're still noble."

I expected some disagreement, or a point about how foreigners were inferior, but instead I got stunned silence. The children stared at me like I had two heads, which was very disconcerting, masks or not. I glanced at Julie, to see if she had some explanation. She didn't.

"What?" I finally asked, after a minute of this.

"You sound funny," Océane declared.

"Like a dwarf," Antoine added, his grey irises moving to the silent but observant Leha. I wondered where he had met dwarves, but Halamshiral had no small amount of trade with Orzammar, second in Orlais only to Jader in that.

"That is certainly true," the Baroness said, "Do all people from your... country sound like that?" She refrained from using 'your world', I noted.

I shrugged off the question, not particularly bothered to explain the milieu of American accents, nor my own rather standard timbre with a bizarre mix of Virginian and Bostonian. I had heard about my accent a million times before by that stage.

Ciara let out a giggle, as the children looked up at their parents for what to do next. "They're adorable," she thought aloud, not caring that it drew the attention of the Baron and Baroness.

"Yes, they are," Tam agreed, successfully deflecting any ire. The Baron knew better, and the Baroness was too terrified of her to say anything negative. The feelings were there though, at least in the case of the Baroness.

Before anything more could be said, the rest of the nobles began filing up onto the platform, and they gathered expectantly. The Baron waited until they were all ready, before addressing them.

"My friends, this is the Marquis and Marquise de la Fayette," he said, "Lord Samuel Hunt, and Lady Julie Marteau. The ones who will, hopefully, free our country from her malaise."

Having placed the huge burden on our shoulders, the Baron withdrew to the safety of his family's arms, leaving us in the firing line. The nobles locked onto us like a lioness stalking its prey. It was unnerving, even to us. So much so that neither Julie or I said anything. I even gave a small wave like a fool, which didn't get a response. I felt the air thicken with the tension, the expectations being measured.

One of the nobles, the skull-masked man who had taken the time to check my soldiers out, cleared his throat. "Well then," he said in a deep tone, "It is good to finally meet you."

The tension lifted immediately, like fog in the morning clearing, as audible breaths were taken. Contrary to his rather intimidating mask, the man's voice was kind and firm, demanding recognition of his authority by its very nature. He was clearly older than anyone else present, which helped. Julie stepped forward and shook the man's hand.

"And we are glad to meet you, who care about your country so much as to come here to meet us," Julie said, every word pouring with appreciation, "I hope we can work together to make Orlais glorious once more." The words were that of a politician, but the tone was that of a patriot. Even I felt my morale restored by them. The nobles looked between one another, and affirmative noises made, as they stepped forward to greet us in turn. Another cheer went up from the crowd, the banners waving furiously now.

"Marquise, may you introduce me to these others?" Skull-Mask asked politely as the rush ended, "I have to admit, they intrigue me." We were an interesting bunch, to say the least.

"Certainly," said Julie.

Armen moved forwards, the ambitious little scoundrel, and placed himself so that he would be the first to be shown off. Julie's eyebrow twitched slightly at the movement, clearly not liking that he had cut off Tam, but the Qunari did not seem to mind, so she continued seamlessly.

"This is Armen Cartier, one of the senior enchanters of the Hearth Circle," Julie explained, "He was instrumental in helping me to create a better understanding of mages, and how they can serve the Empire." That is to say, that locking them up benefits no one. The Divine's writ of foundation for the Circle had arrived with Mother Brandon's letters, giving official sanction as a Circle under the command of the new 'Knight-Commander Delrin Barris'. Word of that had reached Halamshiral long before it had reached us.

Some of the nobles did not step forward to shake his hand, but most did gracefully. Armen looked very very pleased with himself, and in a way, he had a right to be. Julie's hand wasn't the only one at work in the machinations that had made that day possible. Regardless, the introductions continued.

"This is Leha Cadas, the foremost merchant in Hearth," Julie said, Skull-Mask following her with the young woman in tow. I noticed then that the woman's mask was in the same colours. A relation of some kind.

Leha made a bow, and shook hands with Skull-Mask only, content to simply nod her greeting at the other nobles, the nobles content to receive such a greeting. Dwarves were a bizarre exception to the social rules in most places. I still thought it a little rude of Leha, considering the situation.

"Ciara, a representative of the Dalish," Julie said as they approaching the she-elf, who was beaming despite what was quite obvious hostility.

"Ahh, this is interesting," said Skull-Mask, ignoring the hostility entirely with the air of a man who had seen too much to care about such trifles, "Is your clan with us in our... venture?"

"No, I am here on my own," Ciara replied, shaking his hand, "More of a witness than a representative, really."

Skull-Mask laughed at that, nodding. "An adventurer then," he said, "Such people are always useful, I am glad to have you." The man was climbing in my books by the minute, to say the least. Ciara's too, if her expression was any indication. That said, only the woman with Skull-Mask made the effort to shake Ciara's hand. Most didn't even give her a look, once Julie had moved on. That prejudice was hard to break. City elves were at least Orlesian in some way. The Dalish might as well be from Mars.

Of course, it came to Tam's turn.

"This is Tam," Julie started, "A great scholar and a warrior."

"A _Qunari_ scholar and warrior," Skull-Mask said, almost accusingly, "I do not mean to be rude, but how do we know she is not a spy?" Evidently, the old chevalier was familiar with the Ben Hassrath, whom could most readily be described as scholar-warriors to some degree. There wasn't much hint of racial hatred in his tone, merely practical concern.

"She is our mistress," Julie explained, "And aside from that, we met an agent of the Qun by surprise some months ago. He attempted to take her by force. She could not have communicated beforehand to set up a deception, so you need not worry about it." Skull-Mask regarded Tam for a moment.

"I understand your suspicion," Tam said, "But let me assure you, I love the Marquise and Marquis. I would never do anything to harm them." Count on Tam to keep it sharp and on point. Still, her hand rested on the handles of her longsword and dagger. She might as well have added 'I would do anything to harm those who would harm us'. Classic Tam, warming my heart by saying the exact right thing.

Skull-Mask turned to his companion, before seeming to accept the explanation. Realising that he had done some damage with the inquiry, he opted to defuse any offence taken.

" _Our_ mistress?" he said with amusement, glancing at the three of us, "What a spectacular arrangement! I don't suppose there is room for one more?" The man slapped me on the back and roared with laughter, a more restrained one erupting from the nobles. Armen's grin widened. Julie shook her head with embarrassment, not expecting such an immediate tack away from hostility.

"You are too old for it," the Baron said, "Your heart would give out before you could enjoy it." Even I laughed at that.

"We are full up, I'm afraid," cringed Julie, still managing to maintain a polite smile, "Though you flatter us."

"Of course I do, you are beautiful, ambitious people," Skull-Mask said, "Like me." If the nobles were less haughty, I imagine groans would have been the response to that. I think we all decided we liked the man then and there, and so he was allowed to take a place beside us with his companion.

"It is time for the salute," I said, "A demonstration of our new capabilities." The accent again raised eyebrows, or would have if they had been visible, but the nobles looked out onto the docks again.

"Colonel Soprano," I said, over the radio, "Artillery salute." That got mumbles of curiosity from behind me.

"Yes, Marquis," she replied.

The Rangers marched from the end of the line in formation in perfect parade order, muskets shouldered, past the podium. The crowds went silent, as a drummer led the way down the docks, beating a one-twenty pace. When they drew level with the cannon batteries, they stopped dead, turned, and the column split into a double line facing outwards.

" _Presentez vos armes!_ " Soprano shouted. The entire unit held their muskets out and stamped their feet, as the Tranquil began loading the cannons. As they had done much of the preparation beforehand, this took mere seconds.

" _Salut!_ " Soprano roared.

" _LIBERTÉ!_ " shouted the soldiers in unison.

The band struck up what is now known as the Cannons' Chorus, but what I knew as the national anthem of Russia, an Earth-country with a … complicated history. A beautiful tune though.

Its chords were higher than I had heard before, but it shook the soul. Tam had selected it for that reason. The band played for mere seconds, before the command to fire was given with a hand signal from Soprano. The Tranquil gunner on the gun nearest us pulled the cord attached to the flintlock firing device. The cannon boomed, the shockwave of sound tearing through us, the spinning round ripping through the air and off into the distance. A familiar feeling to me, but utterly alien to everyone else.

It was the end of one era, and the beginning of a new one.

Gasps of awe and surprise from nobleman and peasant alike were drowned out quickly, as the cannons fired in a smooth succession every few seconds, sending more solid shot miles downrange into the uninhabited forest beyond the river. It was impossible to see what sort of damage was being done, as the trees obstructed the view, but it hardly mattered. I could tell that as a test firing, it was very successful.

The light cannons gave way about a minute later to the heavier ones, which were considerably louder. People in the crowd began covering their ears. Just as well that they did. When the siege gun thundered the final shot, it was an order of magnitude louder. The wall reflected the sound, surrounding us with it for a millisecond. When it stopped, all that was left was the smell of sulphur on the air and the tinkling of smashed glass hitting the ground.

The band had ceased entirely, stunned as much as anyone else. I turned around quickly, seeing that many of the warehouse windows had been shattered, wincing as I realised we would probably be forced to pay for repairs.

" _Qui sont ces têtes-rondes?!_ " exclaimed one noble lady in a fluster, before being comforted by the nearest servant. The loudest cheer of them all broke out a second later, the crowds never having seen such a thing before.

"Again!" shouted Océane, giggling madly, hands up to the dismay of her parents. I winked at the girl, getting a tilt of her head in return. She should have had a bright future.

"Whoops," I said, feeling a little guilty, "A little too much bang for our buck there." The others were as speechless as the nobles or the crowd. All except Julie. She narrowed her eyes, a hand on her hip, attention on the cannons.

"Don't worry about it," she said quietly, "The world is ours."

* * *

With the demonstration out of the way, the docks descended into a party atmosphere as planned. The soldiers quietly stowed their arms on wagons, the cannons were towed away and the Tranquils went with them. Kegs were opened, tables dragged onto the docks and the celebrations begun. All as cover for what was going to happen next. As we left, I looked back at the festivities, very much wanting to join them. Ciara did too, from her pained glances. I needed to be present for what was happening, and unfortunately, Armen wanted Ciara there on general principle.

Shortly, I found myself in the Baron's library, overlooking the countryside as before. The space was considerably more occupied than when I had been in the room before, although the children had been traded off for Mother Brandon and Delrin Barris, making it seem more crowded that the dockyards had been to my mind. The Chantry still made me jittery, mostly because of their political power.

The middle of the room, directly opposite the huge windows, was enclosed by a circle of a little more than two dozen ornate and comfortable chairs, paired off. I was sat on one such chair, directly opposite the Baron and Baroness of Hearth, with Julie beside me and Tam hanging off the back of both of our seats. Julie had donned her blue, red and white mask for the occasion, camouflage against her nerves. It was one thing to write about the nobles, it was entirely another thing to treat with them. She might have had a lot of knowledge from Earth, but she had little experience at this. I took her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze, as I was perfectly at ease.

The Baron, that glorious bastard, had brought back coffee. A metal mug of which was in my other hand, the first cup of it I had tasted in nine months. The Antivans got more than a few gold pieces out of me over the years as a result, Thedosian coffee is truly excellent. Everyone else was drinking wine, the heathens! I may be getting off point.

The other nobles, the senior ones and their immediate heirs, were arranged in twelve clusters. More than a few had military adjutants hanging around behind them, particularly those that looked the least military. This was the Dales, after all. The Avvars, darkspawn and most of all, other nobles, all vied for their slice of the cake. Even the most leisurely noblewoman employed a large number of household guards. All of the nobles present were large landholders, the rulers of towns, or both. I was briefed on every one of them by Armen, whom had extensive knowledge of Orlesian nobility from his time in Val Royeaux.

Alongside we nobles were two other groups.

An enthusiastic and very pleased Mother Brandon sat immediately to our right, enjoying embrium tea with honey. Zeal and ambition combined in her person, and it always would. She was the sort of person who once they got a taste of power, would fight tooth and nail to keep and expand it. Not unlike Julie, to a certain extent, but lacking in selflessness. I wasn't sure if I approved or disapproved. She was accompanied by Delrin Barris in his role as Templar Knight-Commander. He looked considerably less comfortable, both in his role and his presence at the summit. I reminded myself to raise the man's morale when I found a spare moment. I had been wrong about him, after all. He was a good man. He would become a great man.

The last group was the 'Circle' delegation sitting to our left, representing the mages of Hearth. Armen and Velarana together. The former beamed a grin around the room, a smiling Ciara and a sulking Leha flanking his seat. He was drinking coffee too, though he was sipping it from a smaller china cup, unlike my military-gulps from a decanter more usually deployed for ale. Velarana had no attendants, with crossed legs and hands resting one upon the other on her lap in a dignified pose. She even had a half-mask of silver polished to an extent that it was almost like a mirror, apparently a type reserved for senior-enchanters. No one seemed to question their right to be there, even among themselves. Elven mages no less. We had already changed something, at least. It gave me still more hope that we might succeed.

The other nobles were coordinated into three groups.

Skull-Mask sat to the Baron and Baroness' right. His real name and title was Lord Maurice de Villars, _Baron des Grandes-Collines_. He was by far the oldest noble present by at least twenty years, and was also the most experienced soldier of all of us. He was in fact the only other serious soldier aside from the Baron and myself. The silver and black of his mask was copied by his heir, his grand-niece Lady Louise de Villars, who was a little younger than Julie but clearly well trained at the Game. Beautiful, with striking blonde hair and an uncommon athleticism clear in her figure. I would get to know her a little better during the course of the war, which remains a great pity considering what happened. Their lands were in the foothills of the Frostback Mountains.

Pierre, Skull-Mask, Julie and I made up the faction most likely to act. The other two were mostly based on personal loyalties.

The largest group by a country mile was that led by Lady Camille Doucy, _Baronne des Nouveaux-Landes_. She was spectacularly wealthy, perhaps the most wealthy person of her rank in Orlais. She was extremely well-connected too; her uncle was the chief of the university in Val Royeaux, an institution heavily favoured by the Empress. She possessed some of the most productive vineyards and cotton plantations in the entire world. Her wealth showed too. Her mask was a deep green, encrusted with rubies along its edge. Her very fine ruffled dress was in the same colours, green with red edging at the collar, sleeves and bottom of the skirt. It was less puffy than most too, which I thought a good thing.

Baroness Doucy was also an innovator of sorts, hiring many of her workers instead of tying them to the land in serfdom, finding she could cherry-pick the most productive workers in each season. An early capitalist, in other words. She could command the loyalty of six other barons and baronesses, all of them owning land in the hugely fertile region to the west of of the Hearthlands, bordering the Exalted Plains. They didn't have much to gain or lose, but had come out out of loyalty or out of ideological fervour for our new cause. Which would not bode well for later, but I digress.

The last faction was the southerners, a mixed bag. Their lands varied in size and wealth, as did their opinions. They tended to follow the largest landholder; Lord Henri Clouet, _Baron du Midi_. A large man, to be polite about it, he wore a bright orange mask using a fire motif. Their lands bordered the Emprise du Lion and the Emerald Graves, both areas largely controlled by nobles either loyal to Grand-Duke Gaspard or largely neutral in the developing conflict.

Along with Hearth, Clouet's lands were best known for manufacturing and artisans. Clouet and his allies had the most to gain from any actions we might take, in that the threat from the Emprise would be ended, but also the most to lose, as they were most accessible to the enemy. If we could convince them, we could flip the planters led by Doucy. I hoped our display of firepower had put us half way towards that goal.

The seneschal called order by smacking the butt of a ceremonial staff off the floor, making more of himself than anyone else thought of him. He was an arrogant little man of the sort with no real achievements of his own. The Baron thanked him, probably as we were burning time we didn't have, and stood up.

"Friends, it is time we discussed why we are all here; the liberation and strengthening of our Orlais," Pierre began in Orlesian, with flick of his wrist, "Some of you have seen this room before, some are new to my halls. No matter, I bid you welcome."

A round of self-congratulatory clapping began, with affirmations and squeaks of approval rounding out the cacophony. I rather wished he'd just get to the damned point, so I took another gulp of coffee, watching Skull-Mask cross his arms impatiently. His niece gave him a reproving look that eventually softened his stance. It was a good bit of sport to watch, while the others got the notions of how great they were out of the way.

Pierre turned to Julie suddenly.

"I must demand that we formally congratulate Julie Hunt, Marquise de la Fayette, for opening the eyes of the entire Empire," the man continued, "Without you, the corruption, the waste of lives both noble and common, and the degradation of Orlais' faith, all might have continued for centuries. Because of you, we can throw these vices aside! A toast to Lady Hunt!" The room lifted their glasses in salute to Julie, who sat as still as a statue, not having expected the gesture at all.

"Lady Hunt!" the room echoed, before generous sips were taken of the fine red wines, out of gold rimmed glasses.

I have to admit repeated flinches upon hearing Julie _Hunt_ rather than Julie Marteau, and Julie's own flinches were transmitted to me via her hand. I glanced up at Tam, and found her with a raised eyebrow. None of us had even the slightest inkling the Baron was going to say such a thing. Armen later explained why he had; while unwed to me, Julie was still a commoner. Her titles as Marquis de la Fayette and Baronetess of L'Ambassade were mere courtesies out of her betrothal to me.

The Baron had a lot of swing with the Council of Heralds, swing that had allowed him to have me recognised as a resident foreign noble, but no amount of favour could have bought a title for an unwed commoner with zero noble blood. Mother Brandon was in on it, having made up the Chantry papers in case anyone cared to investigate.

So, I was officially but falsely married.

Of course, all that made the fact that people with wagonloads of noble blood were saluting Julie all the more startling, a realisation that dawned slowly but relentlessly upon me. She would take my name until the disheartening end of what one must call the first phase of our little revolution.

"Congratulations," joked Armen, leaning over his chair so he wouldn't be heard.

"Shut your mouth," I said through a forced smile. The little shit knew full well that we didn't want to think about marriage because it would have excluded Tam. Plus it was a little early for that, by my standards. By Orlesian standards, Julie should have already been pregnant. Tam twice over.

The Baron called for silence once again, raising his hand.

"Now we must answer the real question," he said gravely, his lighthearted opening finished at last, "Do we go to war to achieve our ends? This is what we must decide." Pierre returned to his seat, signalling that he was opening the question to the floor. I was just delighted we were getting to the point.

Predictably, Skull-Mask spoke first.

"If I might correct you young nobles," he said, "It is very likely that war will break out even if we do nothing. All of us are loyal to the Empress, to her ideals and to her bloodline. Even without the Marquise's very fine words, which have moved many hearts, we are targets for the Grand-Duke and his partisans. The real question is do we pre-emptively strike, or wait for Gaspard to start the conflict for us." Appreciative hums sounded off from the southern faction, although Baron Clouet remained silent. Skull-Mask's far more extensive experience was showing, and no one dared fault him.

"Which do you believe is the wisest course, Baron de Villars?" asked Lady Doucy delicately, "Can we begin the war for our sovereign, without her permission?" If I were Celene, I'd be fairly annoyed if my subjects decided to kick off a civil war early. Doucy was not entirely convinced that an early war was the best idea, however. The question was more of a ruse, to poke holes in the case for war and to see how well the advocates for immediate war could patch them to her satisfaction.

"My Lady, I do not mean to trouble you with military matters," Skull-Mask replied, with the meaning that she should take his word for it like a good civilian, "But if we do not strike now, we will be on the defensive when the war finally does come. Instead of our armies besieging the fortresses in the Emprise and the estates further south, it will be Gaspard's vassals burning our fields and surrounding our châteaux." I agreed loudly wholeheartedly with that, as did Julie, Pierre and Cécile des Arbes, and of course, Skull-Mask's niece Louise.

Aggression is a cornerstone of victory in war, particularly when you have a set of advantages that your enemy cannot immediately match. We had mages and gunpowder, the enemy did not. If we waited, the enemy might successfully counteract these advantages.

Baron Clouet cleared his throat.

"That is not the only possible outcome," he said indignantly, "As long as we keep a good watch on the lands of our rivals, we can know when they muster their forces and where to ambush them on the road. We can stop their armies before they lay siege. There is no need to act impetuously when patience might win us the day. If we wait, Celene will join the fight, and the royal armies will aid us." He paused, looking over towards me from his position nearest the windows with intent.

"It also means more time to arm all of our troops with the new weapons we saw today," he concluded, his hands coming together as a steeple, "With which, we will be unassailable."

Murmurs of enthusiasm for that particular point bounced around, as much among the military men and women as the civvies. No one could doubt the efficacy of the murder-machines we had demonstrated on the docks. That the fearsome reputation of such devices was already established courtesy of the Qunari was all the better. On the other hand, I felt like someone had decided to kick me in the gut with a battering ram. My fears pushed their way to the forefront of my mind, and I foresaw all the worst ones becoming reality. A sea of corpses, all weighing on my soul.

As you can imagine, my disgust for Clouet's proposal was visible on my face. So much so that it turned conversation towards Julie and I.

"My Lord and Lady Hunt, you are the inventors of these weapons," Skull-Mask said, quieting the din of hope in the room instantly, "What do you think of that plan?" He was clearly hoping we would reject it, if his tone was any signal. Others in the room noticed my discomfort at the idea now too. Lady Doucy was particularly interested in what I had to say, and regarded me with cool attention, her eyes watching every twitch of muscle.

"Creating more of the weapons should not be a problem," Julie answered quickly, before I could put my boot in, "Any master-blacksmith in the Empire can create the fundamental parts. However, I cannot create enough _gaatlok_ for an army yet, and I will not give up the secret to its formula. To do so would put the recipe in Gaspard's hands, tied up with a bottle of champagne and our compliments. In fact, the longer we wait, the more likely it is that our enemies will gain that knowledge." I could have kissed her for that. Tam whispered something in her ear that I couldn't hear, but Julie frowned at it.

"Orlais' enemies may find our discovery and use of firelances and gaatlok to be extremely fearsome as well," the Baron helpfully chipped in, "I cannot see Nevarra and Ferelden standing by."

"They would likely invade before we had enough of the new weapons to conquer them outright," Skull-Mask nodded, "But the royal armies could hold them, as they have in the past." A ripple of pride went like a Mexican wave from either side of the man. Irritated with still more self-congratulation on their part, I made the mistake of groaning a little too audibly.

Lady Doucy was less than amused.

"Marquis, you have been silent," she said, "I think Lord Clouet's plan to be a good one, one that avoids bloodshed. What is your opinion?"

The room went deathly quiet, waiting with bated breath for my answer. A pin could have dropped and sounded off like our cannons at that point. Not one to be intimidated, I stared back at Lady Doucy for a moment.

"With respect, Lord Clouet has no idea what he is proposing," I said bluntly, "He is in fact asking that we unleash a whole host of terrible new weapons on a world with no understanding of the consequences of their use, or how to use them effectively. It would be a bloodbath, not a bloodless coup."

Discontent erupted immediately, their precious preferred plans laid waste by my words. Not caring one bit for their preferences, I simply drank my coffee and waited for someone to restore order. Lady Doucy finally managed to do so, before giving the floor to Clouet, who had turned an unhealthy red under his half-mask.

"Perhaps you say this as you mean to keep such powerful weapons for yourselves?" the fat orange-masked monkey asked impertinently, "I would remind the Marquis that although he may outrank us on his native soil, he is Baron des Arbes' vassal here. He has no right to refuse, no sense to refuse, and not enough soldiers of his own to refuse should we simply wish to take what we need."

A marquis outranked a baron by a several steps up the hierarchy, being above even a count, but my only formal Orlesian title was as Baronet of L'Ambassade, which ranked below baron by a step. Still, not bad for someone who was actually a commoner.

Several of the parties looked at each other nervously, having been drawn into the man's threat without permission. It was ridiculous to the point of not even warranting a response, of course. I just smiled menacingly at the idiot, causing his personal guard to reach for a sword. My hand put down my coffee mug on a small table, and reached for my handcannon, almost of its own volition. Things were getting close to losing control, our intent so obvious.

Armen saved the day by clearing his throat. He had been in a short and private conversation with Velarana and Leha just moments before.

"Lord Clouet, the Circle of Magi at Hearth would be _extremely_ displeased if you and your allies were to attack our home and our protectors," he said coolly, grinning away, "While we do not wish to appear to be taking sides, I beg you to consider the consequences."

In other words, fuck off from this line of inquiry before we decide to turn you into a frog. Most surprising was that Velarana appeared to be in full agreement with that sentiment, looking at Clouet like he was a rat who had just stood up on a dinner table. My eyebrows would have hit the roof, if such a thing were possible. I had no idea she felt so strongly.

The man himself was not dissuaded yet.

"Did you hear that?" he said, turning to the Revered Mother and Knight-Commander, "Are you just going to let them threaten me?"

"I heard no threat from the mages," said Brandon fiercely, "I heard you threaten to bring war down upon my flock, for no reason other than your own ends. Which would be a profane act under the gaze of the Maker. What about you, Knight-Commander Barris?"

"There are many precedents for mages defending their circles with their magic," Barris intoned knowingly, "It would be no crime for them to do so, should Lord Clouet and others decide to attack." The unspoken assumption being Barris would add his sword to our muskets and the mages' magic, should that happen.

"We all defend our friends and family to the death," Velarana added, "As it should be. Lord Clouet, we are offering you our friendship today. Please do not dishonour that gesture with vulgar threats."

The Knight-Enchanter's words were the final straw. Clouet's visible skin turned from red to a deeply pale tone, as he understood that he had been outmanoeuvred. He stood up, not without difficulty, and stepped in front of Julie and I with surprising grace. He bowed deeply before us, one hand on his hip and another held out in front of him in supplication. His black silk clothing shifting was the only sound to be heard before he spoke, as the room looked on silently.

"I withdraw my remarks, and humbly beg your pardon," he said with absolute propriety. I was stunned at the ostentatious move, but Julie was embarrassed enough to speak.

"We understand," she said, tone uncertain, "Your lands might be the first destroyed, your people the first killed, if we do not succeed in an attack. There is nothing to forgive, you were speaking in earnest." The man bowed again, less deeply and with more cheer. Lady Doucy seemed positively titillated, chatting about what had just happened. It appeared we were being mocked, and while everyone was distracted, I said as much to Julie and Tam. They were unamused at the prospect.

"Perhaps we can return to the point at hand?" the Baroness intervened, "Should we go to war now or wait for Her Radiance, Empress Celene, to declare it?"

Julie finally decided she had enough of the dance, and stood up herself, drawing herself to her full height.

"With respect, it shall not be anyone here who decides when the war will begin, nor shall it be the Empress," she declared, "The people have been awoken as much as you have. They demand their natural rights. What you must decide now is whether or not you shall support them, and deliver your country new strength, or if you shall ignore their wishes and have your lands bathed in the fires of war regardless. You are their betters by right of blood and obligations to them, shall you abandon your birthright and duties?"

She paused, unsure how to continue and needing air. She was far from the only one left breathless by those words.

"I will fight with them and for them," she said at last, "To my dying breath."

Her green eyes peered over to Tam and I, making us aware of just who she was talking about. My love for her rose in my chest, as did my pride in her words. Tam put her hand on my shoulder from behind, and I put my own over hers.

Skull-Mask rose from his seat with a heave-ho, helped up by his niece, and scanned the room to make sure everyone was listening. He pointed at Julie.

"I cannot sit idly by while this woman of common blood outdoes we fine nobles at being noble," he boomed, before turning to Julie, "We are with you." His hand became a fist, then both uncle and niece placed their hands over their hearts, and bowed their heads briefly in the traditional Orlesian military salute. We knew that they would be joining the effort from the beginning, but Skull-Mask had the longest bloodlines of anyone present, or so I would learn later. His declaration was a powerful statement.

"It would be remiss of me to fail to support my vassals in a time of crisis," the Baron joked, "I am with you too."

"I don't want my children to be killed by some bard for the lands of their father and mother," the Baroness added, throwing in her two pieces, "Orlais must change." Revealing her primary motivation for supporting us. And to think, she had been arguing to have me executed three seasons earlier. The Baron repeated Skull-Mask's military salute, while the Baroness curtsied.

"The Circle of Hearth pledges itself to the cause of Orlais," Velarana said, "There can be no greater honour." Armen came up beside her. "And no greater opportunity to prove our worth," he added, "Through this, we will prove to the world that a free mage is not simply to be shunned." Both bowed at the waist, holding their staffs with a hand each and tomes of magic with their other, supported by an ironic bow from Ciara, and a terse and shallow one from Leha.

"My turn, I guess," I said, getting up on my feet, "This is not my land of birth, but I can make it my country." As long as I was with those I had come to trust to my very core, that is. There wasn't even a question of whether or not I would fight, but I felt I needed to make the commitment verbally. Tam stepped inside the seating to join me. Julie smiled. I looked to Lord Clouet. The next domino, the last weight needed to push us over the edge.

The Baron du Midi remained seated, but spoke nonetheless.

"Support for your words is particularly strong among my vassals," Clouet said slowly, "It would be extremely unwise of me to oppose you, and if you can raise the common people and elves in our cause, then victory is assured. However, I do expect you to share your weapons, when the time is right. Is that acceptable?" I thought it entirely unacceptable, but I wasn't calling the shots at this point.

"It is," Julie said immediately and without hesitation. She had a plan for dealing with this problem, of course. Clouet stood and inclined his head, joining the accord. The other southern nobles with him followed suit. We thanked them, genuinely glad to have resolved the hostility between us.

Which left the westerners under the _Baronne des Nouveaux-Landes_ as the only holdouts..

Furious whispers among the nobles of her faction were silenced with a hand, as she rose up, flattening the green of her green down with the other palm. Lady Doucy paced to Julie, took her shoulders, and kissed both cheeks of her mask. Finally, stepping back, she curtsied, drawing shocked gasps from her followers. Marquise or not, Julie was still of common blood, and had yet to bear 'noble issue'. I watched the two women stand off for a moment, wondering what would happen next.

"Well played, my Lady Hunt," the Baronne said with every ounce of sincerity, "We shall support you." Lady Doucy was obviously not in this for her hatred of the Game, at any rate. We never discussed why she believed in message of _Le Sens Commun_ , but I always suspected it was due to disenfranchisement over taxes. Comtesses, marquises and duchesses made the tax laws, not baronesses. Like I said, she was an early capitalist.

"We will support each other," Julie replied, as the other lords and ladies of the western group stood up to join us.

Tam and I stood by Julie's side for the whole night, as toasts were made and general plans laid. Red wine flowed, causing idle and unimportant conversation to do so as well, much of it about happenings in Halamshiral over the winter and who was on what side of the new conflict. The relatives and children were invited to join in, including Élodie and Claire, despite the former's condition. Even Ciara was appreciated as the night stretched on, the alcohol and good atmosphere melting prejudices away faster than ideology ever could. It was a very pleasant party, to my great surprise, and we finished the night in bed more or less assured of Julie's previous words; that the world was ours for the taking.

That is how the conflict now known as the Barons' Revolt began, with great hope and hubris. With noble and commoner finally united, rather than divided.

Many who were at the party that began it would not be alive at its conclusion.

* * *

 _AUTHOR'S NOTE: Very large chapter this time, and what a chapter it is._

 _We've passed 150 favourites and 200 follows, which is very good. The sort of thing that keeps me writing, to say the least, along with reviews. So cheers to all who have followed and favourited._

 _Once again, cheers to Drgyen for keeping the TV Tropes page up to date, and for adding this story to their official recommendations page for Dragon Age._

 _ **JaegarCryptic:** More coming right up. _

_**Meathouse:** Bingeing on other stories does tend to slow writing though._

 _ **5 Coloured Walker:** Great to see you're still here 200k words later._

 _ **Tactus501st:** So you were looking for this sort of story? Interesting. I wonder if there's any way to maximise that effect in the story settings._

 _ **Drgyen:** The truth of the Outlanders and the implications of Andraste being one of them isn't out there. In the case of the former, the secret of why they're around is carefully suppressed, and as for Andraste being an outlander, that is simply Sam's theory, albeit one supported with a good bit of circumstantial evidence._

 _The next VOLUME is Sam in Ferelden, as in this arc of the story will end and one in Ferelden will begin. Yes, Alistair will meet Sam, and yes, he will have heard of Le Sens Commun. Anora too, for that matter. Minor spoilers, I know, but people are interested, so..._

 _There were many nobles and members of the aristocracy who have supported democratic reforms over the years in many countries, either out of ideological belief in them, out of a desire to keep with the popular mood or for their own personal gains. Gaspard isn't necessarily a conservative himself, but his support comes from the die hard section of the nobility, particularly in the military. He himself is used to being obeyed by soldiers immediately and without question. Still, his position is more ambiguous than simply being opposed utterly to the cause. He's a patriot too, after all._

 _ **Lord Mortem:** Thanks buddy!_

 _ **Verbosity:** I answered you in a PM, but I think my answer is fairly relevant, so here it is for everyone else to see._

 _The impression I'm trying to create is one of deep tension, where Julie believes herself to be entirely in the right. It hasn't blown up because a. Sam has slowly but surely come to the opinion that she was right all along, and b. Sam doesn't exactly have a lot of other options. Julie wasn't betraying Sam so much as anticipating his reaction. He's been warned about how the powers-that-be will react to his presence and his previous actions time and again, but ignored those warnings until it was too late. In creating the weapons in secret, she was acting to protect him from himself. He obviously wasn't pleased about the deception, but he can understand the motivation more and more._

 _In this chapter, that comes to a head and he's embraced the cause fully. I appreciated your advice._

 _ **Asahar4:** Flemeth will only be showing up once we get to the Inquisition arcs. There are currently this arc, the Ferelden arc and another arc to get out of the way before we get to the actual sky blowing up. The last two there should be fairly short though._


	26. Chapter 26: Those Who Solve

**Chapter Twenty-Six: Those Who Solve**

The day after our party, hungover as high hell, we came together one last time to decide on leadership and make a general statement as to our intentions. The conversation was long and tedious, concerning many technical matters. As such, I feel it is best to explore the decisions we made in order of the actual consequences.

The statement has survived the years, and although written in stone in our new home, many reading this may not be familiar with it. It was written in Orlesian of course, a language I have spoken far more by this stage than my own mother tongue, but I shall produce it in Common here.

 _A Proclamation from the Dales._

 _Occasionally, during the course of the life of the Empire, it becomes necessary for people both common and noble to take up arms in opposition to laws and personages intending to do them harm. Many such occasions have arrived over the course of our proud history, and for better or worse, have shaped the present circumstances in which we find ourselves._

 _Another such moment has come, in which the events that were until recently tolerable have become intolerable, the nobles and commons awoken alike to the dangers and miseries piled upon them._

 _However, it is still with great reluctance and great purpose that any such use of arms must be undertaken. To spill the blood of a fellow Orlesian without due cause is an affront both to the natural laws granted us by the Maker, and to the honour which is due to Orlais herself._

 _When usurpers and child-murderers threaten to sink the whole Empire beneath a rising tide of blood, all the while demanding the people kneel before the culprits, it is the right and duty of the people, both great and small, to refuse such audacity, and seek comfort in armed force._

 _The crimes against us are numerous._

 _An absolute tyranny has been imposed upon us. Laws have been passed to the effect of making the pillaging of our property, the murder and rape of our loved ones, and the degradation of our persons before mere mortals not only legal, but commonplace. Yet no matter how dreadful and tragic the results of these legislations, we have been left with no road to overturning them, except to go begging to uncaring dukes and counts for our relief._

 _Taxes have been levied to our ruin and not for our benefit, for the glorification and beautification of others, forcing the commoner into starvation, turning the noble into a thief among his vassals. When payment of these dues has been refused, armed bands of chevaliers and foreign mercenaries have been sent to sow the works of death and destruction throughout the land._

 _Courts of law, supposedly established for the provision of objective justice, have been subverted, the judges and officers made slaves to the very highest authorities, evidence thrown away in favour of hearsay, sentences levied harshly._

 _The strength of the Empire has been sapped with numerous bloody wars and skirmishes, none of which have produced victory or longlasting peace. The cost in coin and of empty chairs at our hearthsides means nothing to many of the warmongers among us, yet these same men and women refuse to allow our elven and mage subjects the opportunity to add their strength to any efforts, even though they worship the same Maker and owe the same allegiance to the Throne of Val Royeaux._

 _The threat of civil war now hangs above us; a war that would remove the rightful ruler of this Empire, with all the hope of redemption and change that she represents; a war without benefit even in victory and certain to cost yet more blood, yet more gold, and yet more precious rights, none of which shall be taken from the benefactors. Our sovereign, held hostage by the whims of a violent band of traitors, seems almost powerless to stop it, for fear of igniting the worst of man's excesses._

 _Therefore, unable to seek redress through the normal means, We, the People and Nobles of the Dales, do declare that a state of war exists within the borders of our territories and those of our enemies, that we have the sole right and power to levy taxes and create commerce, that our affairs shall be governed for the People by a viceroy until such time as an assembly of notable lords and commons can be gathered, under the guidance of her Radiance, Celene I, Empress of Orlais._

 _We place our endeavour under the most high protection of the Maker, with full confidence in our arms, our fortunes, and our honour. We pledge to make all efforts necessary for the inevitable victory, that shall bring freedom, justice and peace at last._

 _Proclaimed, the sixteenth day of Nubulis, in the Thirty-Ninth Year of the Dragon Age_

 _Signed,_

 _Samuel Hunt, Viceroy of the Dales, Marquis de la Fayette._

 _Julie Hunt, Marquise de la Fayette_

 _Camille Doucy, Baronne des Nouveaux-Landes_

 _Cécile des Arbes, Baronne du Hearth et de la Montevillain._

 _Pierre des Arbes, Baron du Hearth_

 _Maurice de Villars, Baron des Grandes-Collines_

 _Louise de Villars, Baronne des Grandes-Collines_

 _Henri Clouet, Baron du Midi_

As you can see, and as you probably already knew, the gathering of nobles chose me to lead this little insurrection.

By rights, it should have been Baroness Doucy's job, as the largest landowner, or Skull-Mask as the most experienced military commander. Some have suggested that Julie, as the instigator of the whole insurrection, would have been more appropriate, even as a common-born Orlesian. This particular decision has caused some level of confusion among historians, at least among foreign ones.

Of course, the reason why Lady Doucy couldn't have been our leader was fairly obvious; she was perhaps the least military of us all. She could manoeuvre at court better than any of us, she could have an individual poisoned or stabbed to death, but if confronted with an army, she would have had to rely on the experience of others. We were going to war, we needed a marshal.

Skull-Mask, for all his virtues and experience, was the guard of the old order, a way of war that my very arrival had made obsolete, and one rooted in chevalier honour. The war to come would not be a matter of honour, regardless of our very fine words. He knew nothing about the deployment and use of firearms, their advantages and disadvantages. Not that he would have lost. He had fought in Ferelden, after all. No, his ways would have resulted in too much loss, ultimately.

Pierre des Arbes, Hearth's own son, was hardly much better in that respect either, but most of the spare productive population in his lands was now in my employ, either as soldiers or labourers. Most of his strength was derived from my own by this stage, although by no means all of it.

Julie had the moral force of an inspired politician, inventor and philosopher, as well as the popularity of a commoner-making-good, but she was no general. Not to mention she wanted the job badly, and much of the group were not inclined to give the position to any common-born person. I was very glad when she was outright ruled out for it. It would have painted a target on her back. I was used to having one there.

Ultimately, despite all the good objections to the other candidates, I got the job because I wanted it. Having been led into the situation without much choice, I was hell-bent on determining the course of events by my own hand. Not that I said as much, that would have disqualified me as much as Julie's enthusiasm had. I simply pointed out the flaws in the other potential candidates quickly and firmly, once Julie had been put out of the race.

The others seized the idea of my leadership swiftly, my cause boosted by one other convenient idea; that if we failed, the barons could quite rightly claim that they were coerced into armed revolt by the power of the mob, armed to the teeth with gunpowder weapons and supported by apostate battlemages. All of whom owed their allegiance to me. Funnily enough, that is how it would have went had they opted for peace at any rate.

And so, that is how I was chosen to be the rebel Viceroy of the Dales.

Julie put together the proclamation, deriving its structure heavily from a few famous Earth documents, and the real leaders all signed it in order of precedence. I was quite reluctant to have the thing sent all over Orlais, and it eventually went as far as Ferelden and Rivain, but apparently declarations of intent were commonplace when a military dispute between nobles flared up. The whole thing was greeted with nothing more than shrugs in Val Royeaux and Halamshiral, at least in public. It's entirely possible that almost no one there believed it would come to anything, although we know the Empress did read it at least. The barons and baronesses went home to what I thought was a very uncertain future. At the time, I was still pretty worried about it.

I was worried about the wrong thing.

While we were planning and putting our revolt into practice, so was another power, utterly determined to see us fail and see me dead.

It was just our luck that they had fertile ground to blow on the embers of religious revolt, and only frantic stamping on the resulting flames managed to save us from falling at the first hurdle. It was perhaps better than leaving things be while we marched off, letting the conflagration spring up in our absence with no one to stop the violence, but only just so.

* * *

The next day, March 17th, started off as pleasantly as it possibly could.

Élodie had gone into labour in the night, and by the time we had awoken, had given birth to her twins. Apparently, because of the security measures we had put in place, no one had been able to get a message through to us until then.

So, when we heard the news at breakfast the next morning, we made our way from the château to Élodie's home in the merchant quarter. Julie, Tam, Leha and I, the dwarf riding side-saddle behind me on Bellona, far less grumpy than usual. She knew Élodie quite well too, having worked with the woman's husband for a number of years. They shared a taste for profit between them, which was the real reason behind their mutual appreciation, I suspect.

Alas, we rode through the bustling streets wordlessly, with high anticipation.

Tying up our horses outside, we half-ran into the clean and respectable townhouse. It had everything one would expect to find in a middle-class house, at least according to the level of technology then enjoyed. Three soft red fabric covered couches arranged around the soot-stained brick fireplace. A coffee table in the middle. A stylised painting of Andraste in a corner, another table with candles on it propped against the wall directly below. Smooth wooden flooring, varnished darkly. Walls painted white. A steer stairway and a door to the kitchen at the back of the room. A window facing onto the street, the panes opened inwards with shutters half-closed over the space. In short, I would have had no problem living there myself. If I didn't have a château.

Élodie and her husband in the front room on the couch facing the front door, cradling a bundle of infant a piece, the mother red-faced but glowing with 'new mother' thing. She barely moved her eyes to acknowledge us even as she spoke a greeting, they were too busy glued to the sight of her children. I knew it well, my own sister had the same thing going when my namesake-niece was born. I felt a brief but painful pang of homesickness in my chest.

Julie moved into the room swiftly, and knelt down in front of the couch. I held back by the door, still affected by my regret that I'd never see my own family again. Tam stood with me, most likely out of a sense that she wasn't familiar enough to enter comfortably. Leha had no such scruples. She waltzed right in.

"They're beautiful," Julie said to Élodie, looking at the babies, "How are you?"

"Tired. Hurting all over," Élodie rasped with a smile, "But very happy. A girl and a boy, just so it's fair." Julie chuckled at that, and rubbed the side of the baby in her sister's arms. I crossed my arms, wondering whether I'd ever get to hold my own child. And whether or not things were too complicated to even contemplate it. Politically and personally. I glanced at Tam, who was almost succeeding in suppressing her urge to go over.

Claire appeared at the door from the kitchen with a tray of steaming cups, embrium tea from the smell, and approached.

"Are you two going to keep standing by the front door?" the youngest Marteau sister asked, "You're making me nervous." Not surprising, considering we were both armed. Tam and I looked at each other, and moved inside anyway, as Élodie waved us over.

"Come in, have a look," she said proudly, "Don't be shy."

So I approached where the couple were sitting, and stood by Julie, dodging Leha in the process. Tam leaned over my shoulder, and together, we looked down at the newcomers. Two pairs of deep brown eyes looked back up at us, widening slightly as they took note of our presence. A swirl of reddish-brown hair on the tops of their heads. Beautiful little kids, in other words. I withdrew quickly, sitting down on the opposite seating, utterly homesick now.

Tam and Julie both noticed, but said nothing. They knew I needed a little time. Tam sat down close beside me, which helped me rally a little. To think, I was to plunge the town into a war...

Claire interrupted with the tea, and both her sisters took one of the plain cups each, as did the new father. A quiet man, looking pleased with himself. As he had every right to be.

"What shall you call them?" Julie asked, shifting her weight on her knees to get more comfortable.

"We agreed that I would name girls, and Leodor would name boys," Élodie replied, "So the boy is called Patrice." I remembered the man's name after all. Hard to recall after all these years. Like I said, he was quiet.

"After my father," Leodor himself added, "I always thought it a good name."

As if fate were attempting to cheer me up, I remembered the date and grinned widely, forgetting my troubles for a moment. I must have made some audible sound too, as the others turned to me.

"It's funny because it's Saint Patrick's Day," I said in Common, knowing full well no one would know what the hell I was talking about, "Or Saint _Patrice's_ Day." Or so I thought. Tam let out a chuckle, and Julie smirked. Sorta hard to keep track of just what they knew, short of reading every book that I had brought through with me.

"You're right Leodor," Julie said, with a light slap on the shoulder, "It is a very good name." No doubt dreaming of driving out snakes herself. My part of Ulster-Scots heritage guaranteed my agreement, at the very least.

All the more so in that Patrice became a devoted follower of Mother Brandon, and was very much at the forefront of Chantry efforts against the Qun until very recently. Irony upon irony. The Maker is a humorous son of a bitch sometimes.

"What about the girl?" Leha asked, interrupting our little in-joke, "Am I going to be embarrassed?" That joke got the new parents smiling, and the rest of us rolling our eyes.

"Pay for her tutors and we'll see," Élodie replied in jest, "I was going to name her for our mother, but then my dear sister decided to try her hand at politics." The two younger sisters stared at the eldest.

"And now I'm a Marquise," Julie responded with a shrug, "You have to play to win." Summing up the attitude of almost every Orlesian in history, in any age or place.

"So, with everything that is going on, I chose another name," continued Élodie, before looking at the baby in her arms again, "This is Victoire."

Julie nodded, understanding the intent immediately.

Her sister's statement was pretty clear. She expected us to win, and gave her blessing by naming her precious daughter Victory. It was also a warning: Do not fail. It was a good name regardless, I thought. I was sent back into a melancholy, as I watched the sisters coo over the babies again. Tam didn't help, staring like a starved cat at a saucer of milk she can't reach.

Tamassrans were built for this sort of thing, after all. Or bred. Julie noted the look and waved our Qunari lover over, who padded over in an equally feline manner, kneeling down beside Leodor, a broad and soft smile across her face. A far cry from the sharp, canine-led grin I had seen on her the first time she had smiled in eyeshot of me.

A loud knocking on the door split the trance of admiration and idle chatter about the kids, causing a round of groans. No one coming to see the babies would have knocked. It was business.

Claire went to the door and checked who it was, before standing aside to let them in.

It was one of Soprano's Rangers, one of the new elven sergeants. She was dressed in green tunics and high boots, dress that we cobbled together as the closest thing to a standard uniform we could make, long firelance slung over her shoulder, cartridge belt around her waist, round cloth-covered helmet on her head. Knowing it was important but reluctant nonetheless, I stood up and left the space enclosed by the couches to meet her.

She stood to attention before me. "Marquis."

"It's viceroy now. Perhaps 'general' would be best... whatever," I replied, adding a sigh to the end, "Where is your salute, soldier?"

The woman looked eternally embarrassed. She had been distracted by the scene beyond, obviously, and made to correct herself. "Sorry sir, no excuse," she said, saluting perfectly. The familial scene before her, involving a group of famous and wealthy individuals, had startled her. Discipline starts with the small things, but I opted to ignore the slip, so I could get to the point. She got the picture.

"The Baron and Baroness of Grandes-Collines have arrived at L'Ambassade with a force of two hundred heavy cavalry," the sergeant reported, "I was ordered by the Colonel to bring you back as quickly as possible." The colonel meaning Soprano herself, of course.

I think my eyebrow could have made a moonshot attempt at that news. Just what the hell was Skull-Mask playing at? I was aware he had a personal guard that had been dispatched to escort him back home, but I couldn't believe that his intentions were hostile. The mages alone would have eaten him alive, never mind Soprano's sharpshooters or McNulty's bruisers. Hell, Mike could have shouted them off their horses before giving them the sharp end of the pikes.

That meant one thing of course; there was some news that I had to hear directly from him.

"What the hell are they playing at," I said, pinching the bridge of my nose, "Very well, lead on sergeant."

Tam and Julie got up to follow me, dutiful idiots that they are, but I held my hand up. "No, you can stay," I said quickly, "No point in all of us going home just so old Skull-Mask can show off his chevaliers. I'll be back as soon as I can get away from them." The pair accepted it, Julie's eyes thanking me wordlessly. She would have parked on that couch for a month if she could have gotten away with it.

I walked over to take another look at the babies. They were startled by my entering their vision again, and let out a loud, short protest, calming again with a rock or two from their parents. "Congratulations," I said to Élodie, "They're beautiful."

"Thank you," she replied softly.

And with that, I paced out of the room, the sergeant following behind. Her squad awaited outside, mounted up on ponies. Not wanting to wait around, I quickly untied Bellona, climbed up onto her and we were off.

* * *

As we rode onto the main thoroughfare, there was some commotion about the place, people milling about looking more worried than usual. Children were being grabbed by their parents and dragged off home, merchants with carts were turning about and moving towards the same gate we were heading for. The whole affair was getting in the way of our transit. I immediately became suspicious, scratching my chin as I watched the throng move.

"Sergeant, do you know what's going on?" I asked.

"Bar fight got out of hand down by the docks, is what I heard at the gate," she replied, with a shrug, "Sometimes these things spill into the street, and everyone's friend shows up to join the fun."

I let out a laugh. I knew how that worked. Sometimes, people just have nothing better to do, an effect that increases with alcohol in enclosed spaces and a larger number of males than females. We're all just monkeys when you get right down to it, a matter of some contention in Thedas now, but one I have never had any doubts about. Still, I couldn't have such things disrupting my plans. We were mere days away from a march.

"Should I be worried?" I asked.

"Don't think so," the sergeant said, "The Baron's guards usually nip it in the bud before it gets out of hand." Her pony dodged a cart a little too late, the alarmed driver waved and shouted back, getting a rude gesture from the soldier in return. The man was about to do something rash, until his eyes fell on me. Bored and annoyed as I was being dragged away from Tam and Julie, I jumped a little in the saddle towards him. He flinched, and all of us laughed at him. He definitely wasn't from Hearth, or he wouldn't have continued spouting insults.

"Well then, I guess we'll ride on," I said through my amusement, "Best collect Barris from the clinic, we'll stop there."

"The Knight-Commander is away on business, my lord," the sergeant told me. Already swamped with preparations for war, I blanched at that.

"Which means Mother Brandon is as well," I said, "Great." It was no time for vacations. The war was about to really begin. I cheered myself up that perhaps Lana had gone too, so there wouldn't have been any question of her wanting to come along on the campaign 'to make sure I completed my lessons' in Chantry lore.

I fell back into my homesickness, reminded again of my niece, riding silently.

* * *

We rode out of the gate, through the Smith quarter, and out onto the road for the mile or so to our home.

L'Ambassade now had half as many people as Hearth itself, the thick forest surrounding it now considerably thinned out by construction work, new fields for cows and the bizarre druffulo, and the need to clear firing lines. The rolling farmlands beyond were now visible from the upper floors of the château, but on the ground, trunks had been replaced with buildings to obscure it. We kept the lines of trees to either side of the road though. As we approached, I was taken aback by just how much our actions had changed the place as we approached the guard picket half way down the road.

The four troopers on watch saluted as we passed, their pony neighed, and we continued on.

The sight that greeted us was certainly magnificent.

Two hundred chevaliers were lined up across the parade ground in one long rank. They were standing dismounted, holding the reins of their heavy armoured warhorses. The horses were clothed in the grey and black of the Villars family, the chevaliers in their own colours of which there was a startling variety. Yellow feathers swayed in the light breeze from the crests of masked helmets. Sabres with jewel encrusted scabbards, gleaming cuirasses enveloping the bodies of the riders, black horses and black banners with a silver skull on them.

Opposite were my own elite, a sea of green uniforms. The officers had their own blue berets by this stage. The Rangers were mounted too, although only the lancers were on warhorses. We couldn't afford that many big animals. Yet. The Grenadiers, selected from the start for their physicality and being the largest men and women available, hardly needed horses to be intimidating. They weren't armed save for the sergeants, but they were armoured; a statement that they were welcoming friends rather than saluting superiors or preparing for battle. Their deep blue flags hung limp on the staff, the wind not enough to catch them, the star visible only as a sliver.

Perhaps the most obvious and interesting difference between the two bodies was that most of ours were elves, reflecting the general makeup of Hearth and its surrounding settlements, as well as the Dales more generally. You can be sure there wasn't even an elf-blooded human among the chevaliers. I wondered what the chevaliers thought of that. I would find out soon enough.

Between the two groups was another clump of people. Armen and Ciara, the former in his robes, the latter in Earth panoply. They eyed the chevaliers, ignoring the others. Soprano and McNulty, both in 'uniform', though they had earned their Earth kevlar too and were wearing it with pieces of plate armour attached. The two colonels were speaking to the last two guests, amiably enough as far as I could tell. Maurice and Louise de Villars, uncle and niece, Skull-Mask and Blondie. Their faces covered, their motives hidden. I had little choice than to simply ride up to them, dismount and ask why they'd park their personal guard on my doorstep.

So, I did.

Soprano's sergeant rode off to rejoin the ranks with her squad, the ponies' shoes tapping loudly against the cobblestones to the point that it jarred my ear a little. I nudged Bellona into the middle of the parade ground to escape. There were few spectators this time, to my relief. I dismounted half way to Skull-Mask.

"Viceroy," said both de Villars at once, bowing slightly at the waist. Making me feel bloody awkward. I would have preferred a real salute. Armen and Ciara stopped staring at the yellow feathers, and turned to me. I cocked an eyebrow at them for a hint, but none was forthcoming. Both seemed particularly unhappy. The colonels stood to attention, their faces blank, no help there. I set them at ease and turned to the nobles.

Frustrated, I was less polite than perhaps I should have been. "Villars One and Two," I replied, "I would have expected you to have returned to your own holdings to raise the troops I asked for by now."

Which had to happen quickly if we were going to get into the Emprise before the enemy could raise their own. Marching up there with my own plus the Baron's personal guard meant I could have left immediately, but even with all the new weapons and good luck, we would have lost.

The pair of masks looked back at me like statues. Taken aback by my strange reply to their proper manners, I guess.

"A message has been dispatched, and the small number you asked for will be ready soon," Louise de Villars replied, before her uncle could, "As you requested, they will have horses or ponies, all five hundred of them." There was some trouble about mounting them all, so I was pleased to hear that had been overcome. My mood lightened a little, I relaxed my stance and shook the woman's hand.

"That is very good to hear," I said, "But I'm guessing you are not here to give me that news."

"You guess correctly, Lord Hunt," Skull-Mask started, before continuing slowly and deliberate, "First of all, I would like to repeat my previous concerns about the size of the force you have asked us to raise. Ten thousand is not enough." I could tell that this was largely the soft reason for our little chat. More interested in the harder questions, I licked my lips and exaggerated a tad.

"I could take Val Royeaux with ten thousand," I replied, getting a cough of disbelief from the old man. Time to give the conceptual pitch.

"The Free Army will be able to run rings around any opposing force, bring more force to bear on a single point, will not need to siege castles for more than a few days because of our mages and artillery, and most importantly, it will be more motivated and disciplined than any army ever seen on this world." I wasn't exaggerating too much, but at this point the only part of the new army resembling my vision were the troops behind me, only about a third of my own troops.

"We can raise at least twenty times that number of fit men and women of age," Armen added, "The problem is we'd have to feed them if we did put swords in their hands."

"Not to mention paying them," Ciara cut in, "Leha would kill us if we tried to spend 'her' money on soldiers drinking, whoring, and eating." The irony being heavy in that Leha loved nothing more than to do those things herself, the cheeky wench.

Lady Louise crossed her arms, her head held up slightly higher in aristocratic contempt. She might have been insulted that the Dalish and the Circle mage had dared to lecture her about war. She was a chevalier, after all. "I am glad to see you are confident," she said flatly, "But the lords of the Emprise can call on thirty thousand soldiers of some experience, to say nothing of our enemies in the Emerald Graves or the Exalted Plains. Those are not good odds, even for the best soldiers."

"No one is suggesting we should pay all of the soldiers," Skull-Mask interjected, before I could respond, "They are vassals, most of them owe us some amount of military service by right. Add to that the cause for which we are fighting; their own lives will improve if we win. Food is something we can buy or forage with ease. Why deny ourselves the advantage of numbers?"

It was a good point, if you were a primitive. It was born of the assumptions of the pre-industrial age. Numbers were the primary thing that decided wars, honour in war was at all relevant, armies could subsist on whatever was growing in fields, stashed in barns, or was running about to be hunted. There really is no other way to describe these views except primitive. I felt as if I was trying to explain a complex subject to children. Never let it be said that I am a modest one, I guess. Groaning inwardly, I rubbed my eyes as I figured out how to put it.

Thankfully, my own officers intervened to give me some time.

"Our forces are not vassals undertaking compulsory service," Soprano cut in, "They are professional soldiers, fighting both for payment and for the Marquise's cause. If they are forced to fight with peasants forced to take up spears and shields, they will be unhappy. Your vassals will be unhappy that we are being paid and they are not."

"Not to mention that levied peasants make crap soldiers," said McNulty, spitting off to the side before resuming, "We can't train more than we've called, never mind making them real comrades. Difficult to claim we're any different to Gaspard's people if we're just throwing untrained people at swords."

Skull-Mask hummed at that point, clearly having considered it before. Lady Louise regarded Soprano coolly, her eyes visibly narrowed through the slits in her mask.

"It would be dishonourable to run away or complain about pay when you are fighting for your freedom," Blondie said, with rising venom, "What is a few coins compared with saving our rightful Empress and defending our natural rights?" Julie's message had thoroughly soaked into this one's brain, I mused to myself. Her perspective was skewed for good reason, however.

Peasants in the foothills of the Frostbacks didn't run away or complain about pay, but that's because the Avvars and darkspawn were a constant threat. Running away or refusing to fight for free meant losing the protection of your community. The baronial lands of _les Grandes-Collines_ were a different place to much of Orlais in that respect. No wonder Blondie was scandalised.

"That's very easy to say, for someone that has never been hungry," Soprano snapped.

"You presume too much, elf," Louise spat back.

Already pissed off at having to be there in the first place, I had reached my limit. "Enough," I growled, "There shall be no insults between allies over a simple disagreement. Or shall I arrange for iron chains for both of you? Undermining the unity of this army for your personal satisfaction is treason to my mind." Utterly absurd and over the top, but it got their attention.

Both heads swivelled first to me, eyes wide and mouths chewing with words that would not escape their lips, before moving to their neighbours. Skull-Mask said nothing, indicating his agreement with me. No doubt he had executed or imprisoned malcontents himself plenty of times. McNulty clenched his teeth and tilted his head at Soprano, just in time to stop her from finally saying something brash.

"No need, Sam," grinned Armen, "I can take care of them both right here." Ciara was standing right beside him, and Louise had just used elf as an insult. His own pride demanded he make the offer, visibly so.

A flame akin to that of a blowtorch erupted from the spear-point at the top of his staff, except it was six feet tall. An oppressive heat rolled off it, so much so that I could feel beads of sweat forming on my forehead almost as soon as he started it. Soprano took a step back, and McNulty interposed himself between the mage and his comrade. Louise stepped forward, hand on her cavalry sabre, before an arm from her uncle was flung across to stop her advance. Which stopped a general charge by the chevaliers behind them, I might add.

This grand alliance was looking like more work every second, I thought.

"You've made your point," I said, wiping my forehead, "Armen, stop it."

The mage complied immediately, the flame disappeared with a hiss, his exercise in self-aggrandizement complete. Everyone calmed down, hands moving away from blades, foot placement returning to normal from fighting stances. I was beginning to regret that I was armed with a handcannon alone, and that I was in a blue silk shirt rather than armour. The whole thing sharpened the mind wonderfully.

"Bottom line is that we can't forage in the Emprise, or anywhere else, and we would almost certainly have to if we took more than ten thousand," I explained, "If we want the Joe the Plumbers up there to like us, we can't go stealing their food to feed our army."

Twitches of confusion rippled around the circle of talkers. Doubt even Julie would have gotten that one. "Peasants need to eat too, taking their food will anger them," I added. They got it at last.

"It is not the only thing that will anger them," said Skull-Mask, "Another reason I have come here today." He turned to Louise, indicating to me that it was clearly an issue she wished to raise. She made a small physical deference to her uncle, before opening her mouth. The words that came out were incendiary.

"The population of the Emprise is human, for the most part," she said, "If they see an army of elves invading, it doesn't matter whether or not we steal their food, they will oppose us."

I rolled my eyes, thinking that her complaint was that I had elves in my forces at all. It was ridiculous. I was sure that Skull-Mask had elves in his forces, and I was right in that. Ciara and Soprano bristled at the suggestion. Armen's grin disappeared. However, calling the woman out on her discrimination would have thrown away all the good work I had done so far, so I turned to the obvious practical argument.

"There aren't enough human volunteers to fill out the ranks, and volunteers are vastly superior soldiers," I said, "Besides, lords elsewhere in the Dales arm elves when they have to, all the time. Elves carrying blades longer than their palms may be against the law, but at least this far out of Halamshiral, it's a necessity." The law in Orlais forbade it, but as I said, there were too few humans to forego using elven manpower during wartime.

"The problem is not the presence of elves, the lords of the Emprise have elven soldiers," Louise replied with a flick of her hand, "The problem is visibility. Today was the first time I had ever seen an elf sergeant, never mind one in charge of a _démi-legion._ " The chevalier was ignoring Soprano, but her reference was clearly to the Colonel of the Rangers.

"Best start getting used to it now, then," Soprano growled, "You'll be seeing it a lot more." Suddenly, I was glad that Mike wasn't present. Mike would have killed Louise on the spot. Or asked me to allow her to, which would have been awkward.

"I will not remove any elf from a command that they have earned," I said firmly, nipping the argument in the bud, "If that is what you are asking."

The sound of an inhaled breath from Louise indicated she was about to speak, but her uncle interrupted. Good Ol' Maurice saved the day.

"Of course not, Marquis," he said in a casual tone, "Who you promote is your business as Viceroy. We simply ask that we chevaliers be given pride of place during any ceremonial and formal occasions, at least in the Emprise, to soothe the prejudices of the ignorant peasants."

My suspicions that this complaint was not only coming from Louise rose sharply. Those were far too diplomatic word-choices or Skull-Mask, who had appeared to me to be a brash, overly honest man. No, he was acting as the messenger for others that I liked less. Most likely Baroness Doucy and Baron Clouet. The fucking Game had sent me its first test, the first golden bowl of fruit laced with venom and a note to start eating. Mmm, tasty.

Rather than kick the table over and not play, I decided on a riposte.

"If you chevaliers can keep up with my elves, then you're welcome to that," I smirked, "There is a saying in my country, 'to the victors go the spoils.' Victors have to be there to fight in order to be victors, don't you think?" Anger on the side of my elf-ish friends defused immediately, and flared up among the chevaliers. McNulty let out a snort of amusement for good measure, which had gratifying effects on my mood.

Putting their honour on the line was risky, as it could be interpreted by less generous souls as an insult. Aside from my wish to upset chevaliers, never forgetting that my first encounter with the inhabitants of Thedas was at the hands of one of their number, I had essentially issued a challenge. They would have to pull their weight and prove themselves for our cause now, lest they find dishonour for it. I'm sure Lady Doucy would have applauded that manoeuvre.

"That won't be a question," said Louise, tone ice-cold now, "We are the finest warriors in all of Thedas."

"A boast we shall prove," Skull-Mask added, a little more amused than insulted, "It shall be a fine competition."

I smiled, glad the tensions were broken at last and the issues resolved. "I'm sure Colonel Soprano is looking forward to it," I said.

"She is," chimed in the colonel herself. The two chevalier nobles looked between each other for a moment, as if catching on to something only just at that moment. I really wish I could have seen their faces at that moment.

"I don't mean to be rude, but that name, Soprano..." said Skull-Mask suddenly, addressing the colonel directly now, "Are you from Antiva? A Marcher perhaps?"

"Soprano is the name that the Marquis calls me by," Soprano replied, "He said that it was the title of a famous leader on his world, one both cunning and ruthless." That the leader was in fact fictional was neither here nor there.

"Your actual name?" Blondie inquired.

"Lydia Moreau," replied Soprano.

"How curious," Skull-Mask said, with a glance to me, "Does he ever use your real names?"

Soprano shrugged. "Not since the first day, but I like mine."

"At least you have ruthless and cunning going for you," said McNulty, "The man McNulty I'm supposedly named for is best known for debauchery." And for being the sharpest knife in the set, as well as a relentless bastard.

"You are debauched," Soprano said immediately. We all had a good chuckle at that.

"He really is," said Ciara, "Two months back, he was in the stables with..."

"Ciara..." Armen warned. The Dalish teenager pouted a little at the intervention. I pat her on the head, and she stopped.

"McNulty... it sounds Fereldan," said Blondie, "Uncle, did you not fight a 'Mac Nualtaigh' in single combat once during the war with the doglords?"

"A peasant farmer who wouldn't let us pass on the Imperial Highway near Highever, and challenged me," Skull-Mask nodded, "Introduced himself with absolute propriety, laid down the gauntlet. There was no way I could refuse him and maintain my honour. Brave man. Not a warrior, but very brave." I was impressed. I doubt Goldie or any number of chevaliers would have treated such a challenge with anything other than contempt. I was suddenly glad to have a man of Maurice de Villars' calibre in our army.

The conversation continued as the pleasant diversion it was, the ire from before forgotten. It was a good first sign that I had passed the Game's test, at least for now. I breathed slightly easier, the troubles of the day finished to my mind. With the orders preparations for the march already issued, being seen to by Velarana and Mike, I was certain I could soon rejoin Julie and Tam.

A rider soon broke our little party up, shouting as he came on. I recognised him as one of the pickets on the road. "Rioters! Rioters!" he was saying, "They're coming up the road! The outpost needs assistance!"

My throat tightened with apprehension.

"How many?" I asked.

"Hundreds!" the picketman replied.

An hour of reckoning had crept up on me without so much as a whisper of warning.

A mob had come for my head at last. Once I realised that, I understood the reason why. My thoughts immediately turned to Julie and Tam. There was no way a mob could won against the people I had at L'Ambassade. Élodie's home had no such protection. The fear of seeing their heads displayed on pikes as a mob looted the town shot through my chest like a cannonball, ripping everything out. That Élodie, Claire, Leodor and the newborn twins would probably end up dead too added guilt to the equation.

I began barking orders.

* * *

Minutes later, I rode back down the road, armour and weapons quickly retrieved, the Villars and their chevaliers at my back. My mace in hand.

We heard the mob before we saw them, shouting and screaming bloody murder at first, followed by jeering and cheering. The reason for the change in tone became obvious as we rounded a long corner, exiting the hedge-lined section that marked where my lands ended and the Baron of Hearth's began. We ended up almost right on top of a group of peasants, probably less than a hundred strong. All of them human, most importantly. They had actual torches and pitchforks, God help them.

They stood shocked at our sudden arrival. Probably because they had beaten one of my guards to death, had seared another and clapped him in irons, and were in the process of stripping the only elf off in order to violate her.

Most ominously, they had three Chantry banners, white silk with orange and yellow flames as a motif. Yet these were clearly not true sigils of the faith; they were home-stitched, and by people who clearly did not do stitchwork art for a living.

I was filled with unutterable loathing as soon as I could comprehend what I was seeing, my fears for my loved ones given form in my presence in the shape of murderers and rapists.

"Chevaliers!" I roared with all my might, "NO QUARTER!"

There was a pause pregnant with menace. Heads turned to Skull-Mask. They wanted to attack, but didn't want to do so entirely on my word. The delay was allowing the rioters in the back to move away slowly, and my face must have communicated my displeasure with that, or perhaps the man himself thought it an admission of guilt on the crowd's part. He gave one sharp nod to his people.

" _NO MERCY!_ " the chevaliers roared back, drawing their swords as one, " _GLORY TO ORLAIS!_ " Their discipline and unwavering confidence in their commander was not to be underestimated.

The startled peasants bolted and ran at once, throwing aside their prisoners. My heart sang at the sight. They had thrown away any chance of surviving the encounter.

We charged, the road's usual quiet annihilated with the grunting of horses, the thumping of hooves and the terrified shouts of our quarries. The rumbling tide of armoured flesh and sharpened metal consumed the first few almost immediately, slowing the charge's advance for a dozen or two yards. The rioters ran away like men possessed, they were exclusively male to my eye, but not even demon possession could have saved them.

The stragglers were cut down with sabres, coming apart at the shoulders, losing heads and arms, being squashed like fruit under-hoof. My victims didn't get to see the business end of my mace slamming into the back of their heads, turning around would have meant slowing down, but Bellona was far too fast for them anyway. The road would be stained red until the next rainstorm a week later. I wish it could have stayed red forever, even now, decades later. That was just how obscenely, murderously angry I was.

Despite our best efforts, fully half the rioters made it alive to the palisade wall around the Smith quarter, but they didn't last long there.

Bolts of lightning enveloped them, Armen's handiwork. It trapped the bastards like mice caught in a cage, herding them in place for Soprano's move. I had sent her around the wooded road to secure the entrance to Hearth, knowing that her unarmoured horse troops would move faster than Skull-Mask and Blondie's heavily armoured cuirassers. Now, the elven lancers charged home, their weapons levelled. The last forty or so of the rioters were impaled or trampled to death, screaming before the impact or simply giving up.

Yet I was unsatisfied. My face was still warm, my stomach still sour. The sounds of fighting spilled over Hearth's walls, mere echoes in the distance, the stonework blocking all but the loudest of clashes. There were more of these interlopers to kill.

The two groups of cavalry met just outside the short wooden gate towers. I noted that the guards were missing both from those, and from the larger stone ones on the real walls. Probably withdrawn to help inside the walls, I guessed, meaning it was as bad as I thought. Armen and Ciara came alongside me, staring. I was splattered with gore, but hadn't yet realised it. I greeted them as if nothing was wrong, before returning to my mission to kill every traitor like a good soldier would.

"Soprano, leave your lancers to secure the Smith quarter and the clinic. When the firelancers and bowmen arrive, secure the elves' quarter," I said, "Inform McNulty when he gets here with the grenadiers that he's to do the same with the merchant quarter. When both parts are clear of rioters, converge on the town square."

The colonel nodded. "Rules of engagement?"

"Shoot anyone who is hostile or is looting," I said, "Let runners go. Anyone carrying one of those Chantry banners, take them alive if you can. I want to talk to them." I pointed at the bloodstained cloth attached to an old scythe handle on the ground. Soprano looked at it, and ordered one of her lancers to dismount and retrieve it. Fake or not, it would not do to have the Maker's own sigil lying in the filth.

"Armen, Ciara, we're going into town," I said, "Stick close by me." Ciara bit her lip, and Armen grimaced slightly. They both knew we were going for Tam and Julie, and that we'd probably have to do that part alone.

"What about us?" asked Louise de Villars. Her sword and armour was bloody, as was the side of her horse, both slick with the gore of her victims. I paused, only now noticing that I was the same. For a brief moment, I thought to clean myself. It seemed unsightly to appear like this. However, the dark thoughts I had been having crushed that notion. I wanted to scare the living shit out of the enemy, not just kill them.

"You're coming with me," I replied to Louise and her uncle, "If you will."

* * *

They would.

The Smith quarter was entirely a ghost town as we rode through, the activity I had seen less than a half hour earlier stopped, shutters on all the buildings closed. All except the clinic, Julie's former home. Bizarrely, the mob had entirely failed to take notice of it. That struck me as odd, and I scratched my chin as I stopped by as I pondered the question.

The healer who had kept Julie alive during the Templar attack on the château appeared from a doorway, peeking out to make sure there weren't any rioters about, before seeing the chevaliers riding by at a casual pace as well as Blondie, Skull-Mask, Armen and myself sitting atop our horses in the courtyard.

"They're gone?" he asked, "Where are they now?"

"Dead on the road," I answered with a scowl, "What happened? They were coming for us at the château, why didn't they attack here? They didn't seem like the kind to spare anyone, sick or not." Although admittedly, the clinic was better protected than most places.

"Perhaps they were afraid of the mages," Skull-Mask said, "Even I would have hesitated to attack this place, if I knew I would be facing magic. Or at least, I would have tried to use surprise." His niece shook her head.

"If they knew about it but feared it, would they come marching past it noisily?" Blondie said, turning her horse about, "The rest of the quarter is locked up, they were loud and angry enough to cause that."

"They might not have cared," Skull-Mask said, "They're rioters, not rational people."

"Mages scare irrational people more than rational people," Armen cut in, leaning back in the saddle, "Trust me."

"I defer to your experience, Enchanter," said Skull-Mask sarcastically, "What is your name, healer?"

The man stepped out of the doorway, staff tapping off the flagstones as he moved. Once he was directly in front of us, he bowed deeply to us at the waist. "Tobias Markham, esquire," he said with a complete lack of irony. He was showing a whole lot more deference than he had before, but then as a skilled healer, he probably dealt with nobles in formal settings a whole lot more than most mages.

"You are Nevarran?" Skull-Mask mused, "Well, _Monsieur_ Markham, prepare this place to receive the wounded. There will likely be many."

The healer looked to me for confirmation, with a cocked eyebrow no less. It took me aback a little that he wanted my opinion. I had thought his opinion of me to be abysmally low, after I had pointed a handcannon at him. So much so that I never bothered to seek him out after the battle with the Templars, largely out of shame. There was no time to dwell on that. I gave my consent.

"It shall be done, my lords," Markham said, "May the Maker watch over you."

He paced back into the doorway, where several other faces had appeared to gawk. He shouted to them to get back inside, and to break out the supplies prepared for our march on the Emprise. I grimaced, realising that this whole affair could delay our attack. I cursed under my breath and turned Bellona about.

Ciara rode into the courtyard quickly on her small horse, the noise of faster-beating hooves announcing her arrival over the slow taps from the chevaliers. She was red-faced from something.

"We have a problem," she said in a fluster, "Come see."

We went after her, through the rest of the Smith quarter and past the gatehouse, until we were forced to overtake what was becoming a traffic jam of chevaliers on horseback. Relieved looking citizens appeared at second and third floor windows, not quite confident enough to cheer. The noise of fighting was louder now. More people to disappoint if we failed, I thought.

When we got to the front of the line, a chevalier on foot got in our way. A horse lay on its side, making loud and pained noises in the gutter. I winced as I saw the blood.

"Wait!" the chevalier shouted, hands up, "Don't come any further."

Behind her, seemingly half the furniture of the surrounding houses blocked our way. It had been dragged into the street, more of the faux-Chantry banners hoisted on top of the pile. Nothing unusual about that to my mind, barricades of that sort were ten for a dollar when it came to riots. What was much more strange, and disturbing, was that the approach to the small ragged wall of wood was mined with caltrops. A good thirty feet worth of road was covered with them, and they were just the right colour to go unnoticed if you weren't paying attention.

A spike trap to deter cavalry from charging the rioters down. We all realised what that meant, but it was Maurice de Villars who put it to words.

"Rioters with pre-prepared traps? This is no riot," Skull-Mask said, "This is sabotage."

"But by who?" his niece replied, "There is no way our declarations could have made it to Val Royeaux or Gaspard yet. Most of his barons and allies could not have received it yet either, and those who close enough could not have organised this in a matter of days."

"Perhaps they intended this from the beginning," I said half-heartedly, before glancing at Armen. He stared back, well aware that we had more enemies than Gaspard's partisans. The whole thing sniffed of a plot by fringe Chantry elements to me.

"Well, it'll take too long to clear this up for the horses," Ciara said with a frown, "Do we wait or go on foot?"

We had to go on foot or we wouldn't be able to save much of the town. My gut curled as another thought occurred to me; maybe this was the point, to get us off the horses. While horses were more vulnerable in enclosed streets, on the main avenues they were essentially unstoppable. Without these sorts of barriers, we would have reached the town square in no time at all. I sighed, knowing that we were probably playing into the hands of those responsible.

"I presume your chevaliers can fight on foot too?" I asked Skull-Mask.

"Of course," Louise replied in his stead, "As I said, we are the finest warriors in all Thedas."

"Then you're going to get the chance to prove it," I replied, "We're going in on foot."

The order to dismount was given, with one chevalier remaining for every three that dismounted so that the horses could be brought back to the stables in the Smith quarter. I let Bellona be taken by the nearest rider, and loaded my firelance.

Rather than their cavalry sabres, the dismounted knights now drew longswords, daggers and small round buckler shields. Not exactly the best for a shock attack, but the sight of yellow feathers, cuirasses and armoured masks would terrify anyway. I was confident we could best any Templars hiding to ambush us. They weren't to be the only people in the fight either, I thought.

My earpiece crackled to life.

"Marquis, McNulty and Mike have just arrived at the Smith quarter," said Soprano over the radio, "We can see the chevaliers' horses being taken out, is there a problem?" My heartbeat died down a little, the reinforcements calming some of my nerves.

"Yes, there are caltrops on the streets," I said, "Expect heavier resistance, but it shouldn't be a problem if Mike has her troops too. Same rules of engagement. Any sign of Colonel Velarana?" If Mike's troops had been able to assemble and arm, that meant the preparation work for the march had been completely abandoned.

"She's gathering the battlemages from the outer markers, they were gathering supplies for the artillery," McNulty cut in, "The Tranquil are ready to move if you want them up here." I stuck out my tongue at that. The idea of shelling my new hometown and the people who had begun to believe in me rankled, and it perhaps was even part of the enemy's plan.

"Leave them to defend L'Ambassade," I ordered, "I'm going in now with the chevaliers."

"Copy," said Soprano in common, sounding bizarrely American all of a sudden. My own mannerisms had begun to rub off on her, I noted. The familiarity was pleasing, and strangely boosted my confidence.

So, with time running even shorter than it had been before, we picked our way through the spikes on the ground, kicked over the tables, ladders and chairs making up the barricade and marched down the avenue towards the town square as planned. Louise de Villars and I were in front, followed closely behind by Skull-Mask, Armen, Ciara and the dozen or so chevaliers with shields larger than a dinner plate. The rest followed behind.

Almost immediately, we could see part of the fighting going on down the street. The Baron's guards in their blue tabards, red masked helmets and chainmail were holding the streets leading towards his end of town, getting battered with cobblestones ripped from the ground as well as fending off the occasional attack. No sign of the man himself, but he might not have even been in the town at that point. He was levying his own troops for the march after all.

The guards themselves couldn't advance, as braziers usually arranged around the space had been moved to block the advance. If the guards moved forwards, the lights would have been kicked over and turned into fire wall. It was still more evidence of some forethought, albeit rushed. If there had been any real time, the rioters would have been armed with spears at the very least. I couldn't help but nod a compliment at their ingenuity, nonetheless.

We were getting ever closer to the fighting, as well as to the junction closest to Élodie's home, and my breath caught as I realised the rioters had not even bothered to further barricade the way. The hundred or so that had come charging towards the château were clearly supposed to hold off anyone coming from there, and now, we might catch their brothers by surprise. Or so I had hoped.

Just as we reached the intersection leading to Julie and Tam, the way looking tantalisingly clear, another mob of rioters came storming out of side streets and alleys on the other side. About two hundred of them, their faces were happy, carrying things under their arms that clearly didn't belong to them. Small jewellery boxes, candlesticks and silver mugs, and most disgustingly, one had made a chain of ears and thrown it around their neck. Elven ears. I felt utterly numb for a moment. More had suffered for my presence.

By reflex, I knelt down, taking aim with my firelance. The chevaliers closed ranks, a fact I only noticed by the sound of their feet behind me. The rioters went from happy through scared to enraged in the space of a few seconds. Every single one of the bastards was looking straight at me. I hated them too much to fear them.

"It's HIM!" shouted the man with the ear-necklace, "The Deceiver! The demon!"

"KILL THE APOSTATE!" shouted a particularly large man with him.

All their lives forfeit in my mind to begin with, I shot the ear-flayer dead, taking him with two rounds in the chest. He flopped to the ground like a wet towel, limbs flailing.

The crowd charged, utterly unafraid of death in the way that only those powered by sheer ideological zeal can be. I lit up a couple of more, aided by Ciara's bow whizzing a few arrows past my head and into the throng. The effect was less than I would have liked. The tide rolled forward, shouting so hard that they seemed diseased with rabies, all spittle and rage.

They were advancing too quickly. Quite sure I would be unable to shock them into submission and incapable of killing them all before they reached us, I waved the chevaliers forward and withdrew quickly behind.

" _Chevaliers, Trap the Bull!_ " said Skull-Mask. The nobles did not so much as advance as spread out in a forward direction, leaving plentiful gaps between them in the centre. The mob charged headlong into these gaps, the shieldbearing chevaliers taking the brunt of those who were smart enough not to. Spaced evenly apart, the chevaliers were able to hack into the rioters from multiple directions. The insane animals were sliced to pieces, lacking any sort of protection except for tunics and pants.

The chevaliers were beginning to look like they had waded through a river of blood, but showed no signs of slowing. One or two fell to blows from five or six of the mob at once, but that was not enough to stop a ripple of doubt spreading. The sight of decapitated, throat-split and disembowelled bodies will do that, particularly to civilians.

This was the chance I needed, and I sought out Skull-Mask and Blondie as they rotated out of the fight for a moment.

"Lord Villars, the Marquise and Tam are this way," I said, pointing to the side road, "I believe their lives are in danger. Can you take command here and push this rabble to the square?" He paused, considering the problem. Fear closed my throat over as I realised he might think it a foolish endeavour, but I need not have worried.

"Marquis, I intend to slaughter every single one of these traitors," Skull-Mask replied, wiping his sword on his leg, "Without the Marquise, the common people will not be with us, and it would be utterly shameful if a woman as beautiful as that Tam were to die because of this plot. Go save them." His Qunari fetish aside, I was pleased to hear he held both of them in such high regard. With a grin, I slapped him on the shoulder and checked my weapon.

"Chevalier, send them to the Void," Armen said, his face the picture of anger as he made a bow. He had seen the ears too. Thankfully, he had the good sense not to attack. Furious, his magic would have manifested as fire... and he probably would have burned down the whole town.

"We shall," Skull-Mask said, before moving off to join his troops in battle once more.

"Let's go," I said, ready at last. I took off at a steady pace towards Élodie's house.

Ciara and Armen followed, joined very shortly by Blondie herself. What the hell Louise was doing following us, I do not know, but I didn't bother to question it. We might have needed the extra sword-arm, so I just waved her on.

* * *

Mercifully, there were no signs of rioting in the merchant quarter once we passed the first alley. That put serious spring in my step, as it meant the treacherous bastards hadn't made it this far yet. The streets were still empty though, which should have given me a clue. Even more encouraging, no Templars popped out of any windows to say hi before stabbing me to death by the time we got into eyeshot of our objective.

The shutters of Élodie's townhouse were closed over the windows and the front door, much like its neighbours. My jog slowed to a walk, my shoulders relaxed. They hadn't been attacked, I thought, thank God, the Maker, the Lord, whatever you want to call him. Ciara, Armen and Louise took my slowing down as something else.

"What is it?" Louise asked, her sword still out and bloody, "Is the enemy here?"

A smile beamed off my face like a spotlight, my cheeks feeling it.

"They're safe," I said to no one in particular, "Julie, Tam, Élodie, Claire, the babies... even Leodor."

"They'll be safer once we move them to the château," said Armen firmly.

"How are we going to do that?" Ciara asked, bow at the ready, "I mean, there's four of us. Maybe the enemy is trying to get us all in one place without all our warriors."

It was possible, but it didn't matter. McNulty and his people would be arriving soon. All we had to do was hold out inside the house, something we could easily do now that I was armed as well as I was.

"So we wait in the house and have a cup of coffee," I said, moving ahead again, "With any luck, the rioters won't show up before the Grenadiers do." I should have really learned to shut up at moments like these.

"Rioters aren't your problem," said a cheery voice loudly from in front. We stopped dead. Ciara and I raised our weapons slightly, ready to shoot with minimal extra effort. It was like breathing to us both by this stage. War paranoia had set in long ago.

A woman appeared from an alley. A cloaked red-headed elf, in leather padded armour, holding two daggers that had to be akin to Tam's curved one, although these weren't curved. She stepped lightly into the middle of the street, reminding me distinctly of a tiger. One that ate men alive. Except I wasn't merely a man, I was a soldier.

"Are you my problem?" I smirked, sarcasm dripping off my voice like honey, "If so, I'm intrigued." I was hoping to get information about who she was working for out in the open, before any gratuitous violence. The villains are usually oh-so helpful with that.

"Allow me to introduce myself," the woman said, in a strange unknown accent, "I am Tallis. One who solves."

"And I am Baroness Louise de Villars," said Blondie loudly, drawing her sword, "One who carves people who get in my way into little pieces. Stand aside." The rest of us chuckled, most ill-advisedly. Ciara even lowered her bow. No way the newcomer would best a chevalier in single combat. No way she could survive gunshot wounds, magic or Ciara's deadeye aim either.

"The Baroness is not a level-headed person, _Tallis_ ," Armen said, eyes gleaming at Louise, "Perhaps we should save you from yourself." His staff glowed for a moment, and he looked to me to give the order. I shook my head. We needed to keep 'the problem' talking.

"Sam Hunt, Marquis de la Fayette," Tallis continued, completely nonchalant about being chopped up or frozen to death, "Our agent identified you some months ago, and invited you to join us. Unfortunately, you declined, and now we have to do things the hard way."

I blew a noise out my lips, very much doubting she had anything that constituted 'the hard way'. That said, my mind rushed trying to figure out who she could possibly have meant by me being invited to join someone. The only possibility that sprung to mind immediately was Leliana. It fit the Chantry's general MO, but then why wasn't the Nightingale herself bringing me in? I was actually afraid of her capabilities, for a start. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, as my brain was making nasty conclusions I hadn't consciously clicked together yet.

Tallis raised a hand, breaking me from my thoughts.

"The hard way ends with you having so many holes, we could use you as a pasta strainer," I retorted quickly, "This conversation is over."

"Not exactly," Tallis replied, "Place your weapons on the ground."

She dropped her hand, and a cacophony of doors slamming open against their frames filled the air. First, more cloaked people appeared holding crossbows and curved shortswords from the doorways. Many were elves, which made no sense to me at all, at least until the next lot revealed themselves.

Fifteen damned Qunari walked out onto the street behind us. No Tamassrans either, these were armed with huge two-handed longswords, naked from the waist up except for their unique patterned vitaar warpaint and chainmail gauntlets, horns curling. They were easily bigger than Tam herself, although most were not quite the size of the Iron Bull. All except one.

From the same alleyway that Tallis had emerged from, a large female Qunari emerged pulling a chain, which was attached to a neckbrace around the collar of the largest man of any species I had ever seen. His face was encased in an blank, iron mask. More of a box really. There was no way he could see anything, at least not with his eyes. I understood what he was almost immediately.

The Qunari surrounded us on both sides, weapons at the ready.

"The Qun," gasped Louise, "But... how... why!"

"The Marquis has been a very naughty boy," Tallis continued, "Couldn't have him wandering around, showing off his powers and giving away secrets to you Chantry-slaves. It's a good thing we arrived when we did. He belongs with us."

My body felt heavy, not through fear but through what can only be described as inevitability. The time had come at last for the Qunari. Of course, I had expected them to want to kill me, not capture me, which was entirely to my advantage. Another such edge I had on them was that in expecting them, I had prepared repeatedly for assassination attempts. No matter how heavy I felt, I could go through the motions of the plan.

"Armen!" I shouted.

The mage turned to the rear, as the Qunari began to react, spinning his staff. I returned my attention to the front, seeing creases of frustration crop up on the faces of the Qunari. Followed quickly by lethal anger.

Time slowed, in the way it does when one is most definitely facing Death herself.

'Tallis' started to draw her blades and move forward, while the barrel of my firelance drifted to frame the chained person ahead of us. The air grew colder, and an ear-splitting crack boomed through the air. I smiled. Armen had carried the first part of his role; erecting a wall of ice between us at the great majority of our enemy to the rear. Now it was our turn.

The air split again, this time with the crack of my firelance. There is not a more glorious sound when facing an enemy to the death, when you can see their faces. My blood rushed with the joy of it, all other fears and excitements put aside.

The flash-crack was joined by the hiss of white-fletched arrows passing over Ciara's glove. My bullets made their mark, blue flashes sparking and spinning away with every hit. Of course the giant chained man was a mage, a _saarebas_ as Tam would have put it. There was no other reason for the Qunari to chain and tame a person in that way. My object was not to kill, but to suppress the mage's magic, to concentrate all his efforts on saving himself from me.

Ciara's job, as well as that of Julie and Tam had they been there, was to kill everyone else. Her first arrow struck the saarebas' minder just under the collar at an awkward angle, piercing deep. She fell to the ground, breathing heavily, struggling to stay alive.

Tallis padded towards us quickly, much more quickly than I would have thought possible. Straight towards me, no less. For a moment, I thought that I would have to switch my aim from the mage to her, which might have been suicidal. The elf's eyes had concentrated on me with the precision of a laser. I was the only person worth anything to her. I hesitated.

Louise de Villars stepped up beside me, throwing aside her mask, revealing pale skin and ice-blue eyes, her sword in one hand and a buckler in the other. Ciara let loose an arrow at Tallis quickly, barely aiming, but the Qunari agent danced aside just in time, and used the momentum to bring both of her blades whirling around. Blondie caught the first with her sword, the second with her buckler, and began trading blows with the smaller woman. Satisfied that she could hold, I returned my full attention to the mage.

The monster's magical barrier failed, popping like a soap bubble, but with the faint sound of glass shattering. My next two rounds, the last in the magazine of thirty I had fired at him, glanced into his iron mask, shattering parts of it. He recoiled, stunning by the force of the impacts. That was a good start, but he wasn't dead yet.

I released the empty box, grabbed the next thirty round magazine and slotted it into place. Something I had done a thousand times, to the point it was as easy as scratching my nose. When I went to draw back the bolt, to ready the firelance to fire, a screech erupted from ahead of us. Louise and Tallis paused their fight. Ciara stopped trying to get a bead on Tallis. Armen glanced back from the job of maintaining the wall of ice and stopping the Qunari from climbing up onto it.

Without its keeper's guidance, the _saarebas'_ pain drove it mad. Worse, my own actions weakened its mask, and the monster ripped it off, revealing strange runes carved on the inside. It was definitely a Qunari, or kossith, the remains of its clipped horns poking out of the sides of its forehead. Its lips were sewn shut, but its eyes were open, wild reddish-purple irises full of hate. I could not help but think that the Chantry's solution to the mage problems were bloody humanitarian by comparison to how the Qun treated those with magic. It was a living torture exhibit.

We had enough time to think, because the thing began thrashing from side to side, slamming into the walls of the houses, shouts of terror coming from the occupants inside.

"It's becoming an abomination!" Armen shouted over his shoulder, "Kill it, quickly!"

Thinking that my firelance wouldn't be much good on its own, and remembering the demon-trees I had fought the summer before, I slung it and picked my mace off my belt. I was still utterly high on adrenaline, and utterly fearless as a result.

I charged, my small kite shield shouldered and mace raised. The saarebas seemed to grow by half, both in height and bulk, flames licking out from his noses, eyes and mouth, tracing along his skin. I am told that anyone less than a Seeker, or a very brave Templar, would not have contemplated attacking such a beast alone. Witnesses attested to me doing just that over the course of the weeks afterwards.

The mage sent a torrent of fire at me, and I walked through it like Moses through the Red Sea, completely unharmed. I sneered at the beast, every step taking me closer and making it more mad. The thing hadn't become completely demonic yet, and slammed huge fists towards me as we finally met. Rather than take the impact on, I sidestepped, the left fist glancing off my shield.

It had put its full weight into the action, and haunched over as it lost its balance. I slapped the side of its head with my mace for good measure, almost losing my own feet as its arm whipped out and caught me in the chest. That left a pretty nasty bruise. Cursing, I took two steps back, shield raised to receive the next blow.

Instead, there was a final screech, and the saarebas' body dissolved. In its place floated a tall, thin demon, robed with the faces of corpses.

The demon mage growled at me, and floated towards me, a hand outstretched. I stood my ground, letting it come. It was a magical creature now. I could take it apart with ease, I thought.

Until Ciara did something stupid.

A white arrow thumped into the side of the demon's head, passing halfway through and sticking, creating a sight like something from a comedic farce. The thing moaned and turned towards my Dalish comrade, a hand clasping out in front of it, glowing with a yellow-green tinge. It was going to kill Ciara. With the same animalistic roar I had heard from the rioters, I charged home, swinging the mace about like a madman.

I took that mage apart like it was a block of butter, liquidified chunks floating away as I hacked and hacked from the bottom of its robes upwards. The pieces faded away in green hues, as if they had never existed. Cold and hot sensations creeped up my arm with every hit, no more harmful to me than bodyheat or a frosty breeze, even though they were supposed to be attacks to burn me alive or cover me in ice. A final swipe at the head finally killed it, the whole remaining body disappearing like the rest of it. I inhaled the air greedily, calming down a little, the worst of my enemy dead.

Tallis stared in confusion as I stepped back. "Well, that was amazing," she said. I grunted, unslinging my firelance once again. I had almost forgotten about her.

Blondie hadn't. The chevalier slammed the side of her buckler against the side of the elf's head in a vicious punch, taking advantage of the distraction I had provided, and knocking the Qunari agent clean out. 'Honour doesn't preclude tactics' being one of the mottos of the chevaliers. I snorted my amusement at the fate of Tallis, and looked forward for a moment to debriefing the spy fully.

Unfortunately, her colleagues were not so distracted.

"Eh, Sam," Armen called from behind, "A little help?!"

We all turned to find the bulky Qunari warriors and their lithe elven confederates combined, smashing the ice and climbing over the broken chunks, all the while taking the cold head on. There were too many to kill, but that hardly stopped me trying. We killed a good number as they moved, but they weren't idiots. The ice was thick, and they ducked to avoid my firelance, sending quarrels at my general direction to no avail.

A big two handed sword almost bisected Armen, his barrier holding only just. He took that as the sign to get back, and Fade-stepped away quickly, leaving a trail of snow behind him. We took that as the sign to start shooting. Louise grabbed the unconscious Tallis by the arm and pulled her away, while Ciara and I rattled off a few more bullets and arrows to slow the passage of the Qunari through the ice. The man who had tried to kill Armen was first, taking an arrow in the throat and two rounds in the collar, bleeding all over the white ice, turning it a strange red-pink where he fell.

Armen joined in, switching to his favoured lightning. The skin of the Qunari warriors crackled, but they kept advancing. They angled their blades in a strange manner, deflecting some of the magical forces. I could not help but be impressed at that little technique.

Louise rejoined the line, and got into a much more difficult melee with the biggest of the remaining three kossith fighters as they closed in on us. The elves brought their crossbows to bear on the rest of us, twanging bolts our way in a less speculative manner than before.

"COVER!" I shouted. Ciara and Armen obeyed immediately, stopping what they were doing and ducking into doorway arches. I followed suit and reached for a grenade, that would have settled the matter very quickly indeed. I prepared to prime the device, and looked out to see that Blondie was still out there, trading blows with one Qunari as the other two closed in. Her blue eyes flashed with each traded attack, but she did not notice the others approaching.

With no way I could use the grenade if she was still out there, I brought my firelance up to stop them. I cracked off five rounds at the nearest one, before my gun clicked dry again. Ciara put an arrow into my target, finishing him off. Armen was too busy holding off the elven crossbowmen. The last one was home free to stick his blade in Blondie's back. I scrambled for my handcannon, bringing the weapon up, cocking it, aiming, my stomach sick.

I knew I wasn't going to make it.

A black fletched arrow hummed down from above, catching the second Qunari behind the knee, sending him flying to the ground. His back soon sprouted bloody holes, the sound of a handcannon popping off a half dozen shots echoing off the stonework around us. I looked up. Julie, Tam and Leha were on the tiled rooftops, their weapons ready.

Louise finally noticed and realised the danger was immediate. She took a huge swing at the last grey warrior, and took the space created to run away. Julie emptied her clip into the newly exposed target, as Tam and Leha topped off two of the crossbowmen behind him. Madame Beretta was very displeased, I joked in my head. I holstered my handcannon, reloaded my firelance and stood out of the doorway I was in.

"We have Tallis," I said, "Kill the rest."

"Of course," said Armen with his usual sarcasm.

The Ben Hassrath agents bolted and ran, back down the way we had come, trying to make it to the corner where we couldn't shoot them. They almost made it too. Well, most of them. We killed almost half before they could reach it. When they did, it ceased to matter.

McNulty and three dozen grenadiers came rushing around the corner in formation, curved rectangular shields raised, swords pointed over them. The elves threw down their weapon and raised their hands. They were shoved to the ground and tied up. I sighed, my battlelust draining away. Our rooftop party climbed down through a window, and out the door of the house they were on top of, and joined us.

I went over and hugged Julie and Tam tight, my knees weak with relief. They looked at each other. They hadn't known what was going on, or the danger of it.

"What's going on?" asked Julie, "Where'd the Qunari come from?"

"Oh nothing, Ben-Hassrath agents fomented a riot so they could capture me and kill you," I said, with a hand wave, "I'm just glad to see you're okay." The pair of them flinched at the news.

"The Ben-Hassrath did what?!" asked Tam, checking me with no regard for propriety, searching for wounds furiously, "Please tell me you took one of their leaders alive." I shrugged, not sure if Tallis was actually alive from the blow she had received. Tam pulled off my kevlar and got handsy under my shirt, pulling her palms out and looking for blood. It was a pleasant sensation, but I slapped her hand away regardless with a grin. Some of McNulty's people were having a good chuckle at us.

Julie on the other hand was lost in thought.

"We took this one alive. Or rather, I did," said Louise wearily, appearing with Tallis over her shoulder, "I think that mage-handler back there is still alive too." McNulty himself shouted to his men to retrieve her from the street, and a quick glance confirmed the mage's guard was indeed breathing.

"They wanted me alive," I added, with no small degree of shame, "I was the objective. This is all my fault." I should have annihilated the Iron Bull and his entire party in the summer, I thought.

Julie shook her head. "It might have been one of the reasons, but I think it's obvious the Qun would lose out if we succeeded," she said, finger wagging, "They meant to cut the head off the snake, cripple our movement before we can win any victories."

"Makes sense," said Armen, leaning on his staff for support, "Without Julie or Sam, the support of the mages and the commoners would likely disappear."

"We would have protected them," said Louise, depositing Tallis into the arms of McNulty's troops.

"You would have failed," said Tam with complete certainty, "The mages cannot possibly trust your kind, you have not earned their respect." Implying that Julie and I had earned such trust. Which was true. There was no way Velarana or Armen was going to bow and scrape for Skull-Mask, the Baron or any of the other nobles. Only reason Velarana did it for me was because I saved her life and the lives of her people, and then provided them a home at great risk to myself.

"Not yet," Louise conceded loudly, picking up her mask.

"Marquis, we've pushed them back to the square, but there's a problem," reported Soprano over the radio, "You might want to come down here." Jesus Tapdancing Christ, I thought, how hard is it to put down surrounded, poorly armed civilians?

"We're on the way with the Grenadiers," I responded, "McNulty, have the Qunari bodies collected, and get the rest of your people moving."

"Yes sir!"

* * *

The town square was a ring of fire by the time we reached it.

Overturned carts and market stalls had been drawn back in a semi circle around the entrance of the town chantry. The rioters had occupied it. The braziers had been moved with clear intent towards burning the whole building down if any moves were made to force them out. I suppose I understand now the reluctance of the Baron and Skull-Mask to storm the place. Aside from it being a religious site, which would not have stopped me, the entirety of the town's archives were there too. Births, deaths and marriages, and all the associated legal paperwork that those things entail about property and the like.

The Rangers were up on the roofs, trying to get a bead on stray heads popping out of the upper windows, though the shutters were partially shut to prevent the occupiers from being seen observing the square. Mike's pike and crossbow troops had sealed off the exits around the space. The Baron's guards and personal retinue were with Skull-Mask's chevaliers encircling the barricades itself. Who seemed to be having a good time exchanging cobblestones with the imbeciles manning them. I shook my head. What in the hell was the delay for?

Julie, Tam and I approached the Barons of Hearth and _les Grandes_ -Collines, with Louise de Villars. The others had agreed to remain at Élodie's home, to protect it.

The younger red-masked baron was standing on top of a small platform, trying to see what the rioters were doing to the small part of his town that they possessed. The older sat on one chair with his feet up on another, turned to the side away from the action, his mask off as he tucked into a rather plump pear. The same ice-blue eyes possessed by his niece concentrating on the task, a heavily scarred face retaining the core structure of what must have been quite a handsome visage once upon a time.

"What the hell is going on?" I said to them. They both shifted attention to us at once, although Pierre soon returned his gaze to the chantry.

"Nothing to do now but wait them out," Skull-Mask pronounced with boredom, before noticing his niece was covering in blood, "Louise, are you alright?"

"She fought off Qunari," I said approvingly, "Including a very quick assassin."

"Really," replied the uncle, his hands falling to his lap, pear and knife remaining in place, "Qunari you say." He didn't seem particularly perturbed by that, but Pierre's head moved back on a quick swivel to pay attention to the conversation again.

"They're responsible for all of this, uncle," Blondie said, "We have the corpses to prove it, and some prisoners."

"They fought ferociously, but were no match for your niece's blade or the ability of the Marquis and Marquise," Tam explained, "They even brought a mage, which quickly lost control and would have consumed us all had Sam not been present to kill it." Particularly true as the only Templar we had, demon-slayer that he was, was notably absent. I winced as I imagined at the damage that might have been done.

"We'll have to think about some sort of honour for you, Lady Louise," Julie nodded, "But for the moment, why are you not liberating the chantry, my lords?"

Blondie smiled widely. "Personal guard to the Viceroy would be acceptable," she grinned with a sly look at me, taking us off track.

Tam cocked an eyebrow, and Julie laughed. Louise de Villars wasn't exactly beautiful, but she was good looking in an athletic sort of way, having no small degree of aristocratic refinement. Similarly built to Tam too, albeit shorter. I thought her suggestion somewhat provocative. Orlesians, I swear... Evidently Julie and Tam regarded her as no threat. Quite correctly. I had far too much affection for both of them, and had been through too much, to stray by this stage.

Hence why other measures had to be taken by people who had requirements of me, but the plots of Tevinter magisters need not concern us at this juncture.

"I think that would be appropriate," Julie said, before turning , "But again, why are you not putting these dogs to the sword? That they are Qunari dupes is all the more reason why their lives are forfeit." Her Orlesian accent greatly rose when stressing a point in Common, and this time was no exception. Of course, she was speaking it as that was what the nobles spoke in public, so the peasants couldn't follow along as easily.

"Cleansing the chantry in their blood might appeal to you, Julie," said Pierre softly, "But the Divine and the Grand Clerics may not approve of it. Almost certainly, they will not. We must tread carefully, especially as we have declared war just now."

"So you will wait until they get hungry and surrender?" asked Tam, crossing her arms, "Looks to me like they'll destroy the place before that." The braziers were arranged just so for that conclusion.

"In which case the Chantry will be on our side," Pierre replied, "It may even buy us more support with them, to hear that the Qunari want to destroy us. They know how that feels, especially among the zealots."

"They cannot last long in there either," Louise said, with a tilt of the head, "It is not well-stocked."

"If only that were true," said Julie, burying her face in her hand for a moment, "The Marquis and I have been engaged in food relief efforts, and the stores are in the Chantry basement."

"Food relief?" asked Maurice de Villars, his head cocked, "What do you mean?"

"Feeding the poor of the town out of our own pocket," I explained, "A PR thing." The abbreviation through them off. I explained it meant 'public relations'.

"They have enough food down there to last for weeks, given that there's only a couple of hundred of them," Julie added.

"If they know about it," Pierre retorted, "Either way, we can bottle them up with a similar number and wait them out while we march."

That was very true, though I wouldn't be committing a single soldier to that even if they wanted me to. Of course, they couldn't have asked it. I was in command now. Of course, it was less than ideal, leaving this whole problem behind us rather than resolving it that day. We remained silent for a moment, probably because we didn't disagree with the Baron's point.

Thankfully, I had an idea.

"Did you take any prisoners?" I asked Pierre directly, "I ordered my own soldiers to give... some quarter."

"A dozen," the Baron replied, "They fought like madmen, kept screaming about the Whore of Hearth and how she had summoned a war demon to do her work to bring down the Chantry, and some nonsense about the Qunari being in on it. Ironic, now that I think about it. Not much use to us." The 'Whore of Hearth' being Julie, featuring Tam as the Qunari agent and my fine self as the unspeaking war demon. I was less than impressed with their branding of my lovers as a traitor and a power hungry slut to say the least. Though I thought the unspeaking war demon part to be appropriate, because that was all they were going to get from me.

"Oh, they'll be useful," I said, "They've been duped once, why not a second time?"

* * *

We threw the corpses of the dead Qunari warriors at the feet of the captured rioters, and dragged a newly conscious Tallis in front of them. Explaining that they had been tricked into acting in the interests of the greatest enemy of their faith was extremely easy with such excellent visual aids. I had them released into the chantry, but not before Tam had cut off the head of the largest Qunari male, a four-horned beast of a man, so they could show their fellows.

The dozen men strolled into the chantry under the impression that if they succeeded, they would be spared. However, no such promise had been explicitly made.

They did succeed in convincing their fellows that they had been tricked. They did succeed in getting the whole group to exit the chantry itself through the front door. They did succeed in putting their entire, imbecilic, zealous band into a killing zone. Traitors die in shame, as Julie would proclaim.

McNulty's Grenadiers started the bloodshed with a combat weapons test, igniting the powder-matches sticking out of the bases of their stick-grenades with hand-flints, before tossing them together in a high arc amongst the rioters. The explosions tore ragged holes in the clump of two hundred or so, as well as in individual men, killing a good few, crippling many more. Soprano's Rangers opened up from the rooftops, making their marks with near-perfect accuracy. Men were taken by minié balls from two or three directions, falling apart at the chest or half-losing arms. Blackpowder and blood filled the air with their scents, as the last of those to exit the chantry fell dead or cowered in fear, adding their own filth to the ichor. Mike's billmen moved in to finish the job, and successfully cleared out the chantry with a minimum of fuss and zero damage to the building or its contents.

To an Earth reader, this may strike you as a very bloody, possibly criminal act. I describe it in brief terms only precisely because I share that belief. However, the laws of Orlais are far removed from the international laws of the United Nations. Orlesian readers, as well as Orlesian people at the time, will no doubt agree that such a fate was too lenient. Indeed, the punishment for rebellion involved torture followed up with death by strangulation. By massacring the rioters, I was in fact performing a mercy in the eyes of many of the Orlesians. However, I do not like to think about it too much. Their ghosts don't haunt me, they were too full of hate for people I regarded as among the best on Thedas for that, but rather that it was the moment I knew the war to come would require similar brutality on a larger scale.

Regardless, thanks to the Qun's plot, our enemies had time enough to raise their armies.

* * *

 _AUTHOR'S NOTE: Huge chapter this time._

 _There could be future delays on this story as I finish up Battlefield 2183, hoping to get that done in a blitz. I won't stop writing this, I will be devoting more time to the other story is all... because frankly it has double the followers and I've been neglecting it, which isn't fair on people wanting to read that. Writing this is far easier, as I'm in far more expansive non-canon territory._

 _ **Drgyen:** Indeed it is. Was even considering outright calling Skull-Mask and Blondie by the surname de la Valliere, but that's a little too much._

 _ **JaegarCryptic:** Hope you enjoyed this one as much as the last one._

 _ **Asahar4:** A single gunshot to the chest probably wouldn't be effective. Mages can resist firearms for a time. _

_Technically, the Venatori are running around at this time. We'll run into them eventually._

 _ **Joseph shark pusher:** She does have more grandoise ideas. She just understands that laying out her cards in the open is a quick way to lose. She's had the benefit of reading Machiavelli, after all._

 _ **Tactus501st:** Well, apparently, we're going to find out. I originally said there wouldn't be too much technological development, but Julie's character bloomed too much for that to be the case. _

_**Azariah Kyras:** I addressed your point by PM._

 _ **Cyner2u:** Thank you for both the compliments and the nicely constructive criticism. _

_I think some of the character development feels like it is told rather than shown because it is part of the nature of the autobiographical format I'm using, with a single imperfect narrator. That said, there have been parts where I've edited badly or failed to edit after writing, so yeah, there is some telling going on where there shouldn't be. I tend to write, then rewrite, then rewrite again, but getting caught up with other things, that process tends to get uneven. All I can do is pledge to do better in future._

 _As for 'UN values', I'm not sure such a thing exists. The UN is a seriously mixed bag, and peacekeepers are not UN troops, but rather national soldiers seconded to the UN. He remains as thoroughly American as any other American. There is also no shortage of frustration among peacekeepers as to the complex and restrictive rules of engagement imposed upon them. More to the point, Julie and Tam have been the real reason he abandons any pretence of following UN Peacekeeper rules more than any internal process. Julie's political radicalism and Tam's determination to create a sort of Anti-Qun can't benefit from military restraint, and he loves them both._

 _I'm very glad someone has finally made the Franklin comparison, as Julie was modelled heavily on the good doctor, in terms of her interests and sexual morality. Though she isn't a female Franklin expy either._

 _The British model is what she's fighting for at a minimum at the moment, but who knows whether that is her final goal? It's funny you should bring up that though, for other reasons that you'll see._

 _ **In Defilade:** I've only seen the TV series, unfortunately, but you're right in saying Farscape has inspired a certain... disrespect for the literal meaning of the word 'Peacekeeper'. And it will continue to do so. This chapter featured the first Thedosian soldiers wearing blue berets, after all._


	27. Chapter 27: The Battle of Sahrnia

**Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Battle of Sahrnia**

The weeks leading up to the first real test of _Free Orlais_ , as it would come to be known in the Dales, were utterly miserable. There was no indication that the first concrete step towards the creation of a new nation on Thedas, or perhaps the first nation at all, was about to be taken. One of three such events now depicted in the antechamber of the _Palais de la Liberté_ in a rather tasteful fresco. Sometimes I look at it and wonder how long it will last, and whether or not what we've put into motion will last.

Nothing lasts forever, after all.

My patience least among them. Despite the reports of my fight with a possessed Qunari mage making the rounds, easing much of the political tension away, the march that was supposed to happen three days or so afterwards did not happen for another two weeks. The damage that had been done to our cause was not limited to the confines of Hearth itself. Qunari agents, or more likely their dupes, had spread rumours throughout the countryside. Although the majority firmly supported our cause, there was and is no shortage of reactionary elements among the peasants. Between putting down these sparks of unrest, seeing to the wounded populace and repairing key infrastructure, two weeks was very quick.

Two other problems compounded our misfortunes.

First of which I could have solved with a little more backbone, if I hadn't been dealing with all the rest of it. I had ordered approximately ten thousand to assemble for war. Ten 'legions' by Orlesian reckoning, roughly. Considering half were to be mounted on some form of horse or pony for transport, not for battle, that was as big an army as I felt safe about gathering for the logistics we could bring to feed them. Aside from that, such a number could move a lot more quickly.

Except a whole lot more than ten thousand came. Aside from troops recruited directly for my army, every noble that wanted to tag along had a personal guard, sometimes numbering more than the quota I had asked for. Inevitably, the new recruits were fresh, and the guards were seasoned veterans, but that worked to our advantage later. To say I was pissed at the nobles was an understatement, but they weren't the only perps. Mother Brandon and Knight-Commander Barris arrived with a hundred Templars, men and women Barris trusted and new recruits they could mould. Aside from them, there were the civvies. My understanding of an army in the field was so utterly alien to the Thedosian concept. On Earth, combat had become so deadly, so indiscriminate, that civilians generally did not hang around armies. They fled combat zones or died. On Thedas, camp followers ranging in role from the families of soldiers to enterprising prostitutes and merchants were commonplace. Still are, among some armies.

So, by the time we marched, we had about twenty thousand soldiers under arms in our forces, only half of which were under my direct command, and thousands more tagging along no matter how many threats I made to dissuade them. That the entirety of the army was getting paid for their service was far too big a draw. The nobles were paying their own, and my troops were getting combat pay for the duration of 'high intensity' operations, so were even more flush than usual. They camped out around Hearth for the two weeks, doing nothing for the first few days until I had the levied forces drilled daily on our parade ground by our own veterans. The nobles' troops mostly milled about inside Hearth itself.

Then it rained for a week. Not particularly hard, but enough to wash the blood from the road between Hearth and L'Ambassade. Enough to muddy up the highways, to make moving our heaviest artillery near impossible.

Without Tam urging patience, and distracting us in the way that only she could, I think Julie and I would have organised around-the-clock firing squads. With cannons. Ciara's help in organising everything and soothing our frustrations was also invaluable. Armen made things worse by feuding with Velarana about the Templars, but we sorted that out in ten minutes when I placed the Templars under his direct command. The Libertarians got their regiment, half-mage, half-Templar. Barris accepted it gracefully. Armen grumbled.

Regardless, the march began at the first break in the weather.

We all knew it was a long shot. The enemy had rallied around the Marquis DuRellion, the overlord of much of the lands bordering Fereldan on the Frostbacks and nominally a loyalist to the Empress. Interestingly, he would later become a prominent supporter of the Inquisition, but at this time, he was twisted into supporting our enemies due to their own loyalty to Gaspard or distrust of our revolutionary fervour. Like Skull-Mask, they were all military minded. Aside from the enemy themselves, we would be operating at the very edge of logistics Leha and I had planned carefully. Even excluding camp followers, food had to be strictly controlled. The delay had also hacked into our funds, and although much of it came back to us via our enterprises, if we didn't make our objective, we would be bankrupt in another two weeks. We couldn't bring our business with us, after all. Without nobles pitching in, it would be very close indeed, something Julie insisted on avoiding. Debt to them was death to the revolution, she said. I laughed, but agreed.

So we marched, and marched hard. Morale dropped like a rock. Everyone had gotten used to drilling or doing some light reconstruction work in the day, drinking and whoring at night. Padding through the mud, even after I ordered the mages at the front of the column to harden the roads as best they could, was an unwelcome change. So too was the news that our enemy had mustered a much larger force, and was undoubtedly marching out to meet us. I had split up the army into three, so we could move more quickly, and fears that the enemy would fall upon one part before the other two could gather were very real. So real you could literally smell it on their sweat, something I wouldn't have thought possible before. My true homeland's army was essentially unassailable, so it was very much a new experience. It has a harsh tang to it, completely different to what you get with raw aggression and exertion. That smell certainly was familiar.

Our destination was Sahrnia, a major town occupying high ground in the north-east of the Emprise, bordering Skull-Mask's own fief, stretching as it did along the mountainsides. It was not important territory by any standard of the day. The Baroness of Sahrnia, one Lady Poulin, was not highly regarded and was a complete non-entity in the Game. For us however, it was absolutely essential ground. Sahrnia was home to quarries that exported material to every part of Thedas, but most crucially, it was our source of raw materials for manufacturing pretty much everything. Aside from silverite with which our cannons were made, one of the ingredients for blackpowder was found there in great quantities as a byproduct, alongside lead deposits for ammunition, and various herbs for medicines.

If we took the town, its smithies and its quarries, the price-tag on our new firelances would become low enough to allow something like mass production. If we lost it, we wouldn't be able to get a reliable supply of blackpowder, and we'd be back to fighting wars the old way inside a month. Likely sooner.

If we lost at all, our movement would likely collapse and the vultures perched elsewhere would swoop down on us from all sides. Jader, the Exalted Plains, the Crownlands around Halamshiral... the nobles there would eagerly tear us apart, loyalty to Celene or Gaspard being meaningless when it comes to land grabs.

Not that anyone cared but my own people. The nobles grumbled about why we would be taking a mountain town of no importance to them. The commoners grumbled about the forced march. The camp followers grumbled about the army being split up. Everyone grumbled about the mud. And occasionally, fights broke out about the affections of one whore or another, among common men and nobles alike. The fighting women rather generously left their contribution in that at rolling their eyes and shaking their heads.

Things were animated, at least.

* * *

The cherry on the top of the cake was showing up on the plains below Sahrnia to find that the enemy had shown up to block us. All forty thousand of them, clearly the largest force that could be assembled at that spot in the time we had given them. Not the full force of the enemy, but more than enough to cause us trouble. We had plenty of warning, my lancers had been sent far ahead to scout, so our army converged on the flat farmlands. Didn't mean I was happy about it. I watched from a balcony of a farmhouse, as our armies began to square off at some distance.

They were offering battle.

I was rather distracted by the backdrop, as I wondered whether or not to accept their offer. The rolling, rocky foothills were spectacular to look at on their own, but made more so by the structures that had been built atop them.

Even the light-grey of overcast skies didn't defuse the beauty.

Suledin Keep was the most obvious, the old elven fortress a marvel to behold even as a ruin. The enemy weren't bottled up in there for the obvious reasons; they had the numbers, and we had enough mages to make fixed defence a poor idea. I was very glad they hadn't been stupid, destroying such a place with cannonshot would have been a real pity. Of course, Inquisitor Trevelyan probably would have disagreed, given that she had to clear the place out some two years later.

The 'Pools of the Sun' stood in elegant silence, hotsprings framed by colosseums, one ruined and two intact. The town of Sahrnia itself was also visible, stout rounded guard towers rising up from the green treetops, the peaks of their roofs in red slate. Running between the two sights most remarkably was a bridge supported by high arches, in stunning white marble. The remains of another bridge connecting to older, depleted mines were at the other side of the town, but still had a function as the top of a great wood-and-rope elevator, so the ore of the quarry could be brought to the town and its river-port further downstream.

The River Suledin itself was a surprisingly broad thing, despite crashing down from the mountains behind the town via two or three large waterfalls near the settlements. The distance meant that I could not hear their roar or churning, but the spray floated off into the air visibly at least. Not that I could have heard anything over the continuous chomping of my soldiers' boot soles.

Sharper foot and staff falls woke me from my inspection.

"A beautiful place, is it not?" asked Armen, approaching from behind, "It will make a fine addition to your little empire."

I winced. I didn't appreciate the idea that I was in fact building an empire, and I gave him a dark look. His trademark grin budged not a millimetre.

"Don't be insulted at that, Sam, it's true," Armen said flatly, "And you'll live longer." The thought that he should be having this discourse with Julie crossed my mind, briefly. Provocatrice that she was.

"You might not," I joked.

"True, but then you would have to deal with Ciara," Armen mused. The Dalish girl being far more dangerous to me than any mage ever could be.

I grunted my concession of that point, not pleased with the idea of facing Ciara in a fight to the death. I would almost certainly hesitate to shoot her, and she would almost certainly wound me badly because of it.

"There are a lot of them," Armen said bluntly, "Are you sure that we can do this?"

The colourful banners and shields of the enemy stretched far enough that you could look at the middle of their formation and not see the edges of it. I had to move my gaze to take in the entirety. It was still as much a patchwork of forces as ours were, perhaps more so, a collection of much more smaller armies. The infantry and cavalry were distributed almost at random, though crossbowmen and archers were the front of the entire line. No sign of artillery, not even the ballistas that were so popular among Orlesians at this time.

"Of course we can do it," said Tam firmly, materialising from the upper room adjoining the balcony, "The Barons Pierre and Maurice are skilled warriors and leaders, and we have created an _antaam_ that no Orlesian has ever seen the like of. We'll win." Her confidence boosted mine, and I frowned as I realised that her opinion mattered almost as much as the facts to me, worrying about what that meant for the whole enterprise.

"Even if the troops are scared witless?" Armen riposted, "They're fighting each other over the slightest cause, and if it wasn't for fear of Sam and respect for Julie, far more would have deserted by now." All of which was very true. Even the brawls over the whores had been more a product of the mood than any lack of supply.

"Fear is a useful thing, _saarebas_ ," Tam replied firmly, "It is the basis of all discipline, and it sharpens the mind for struggle to come. Men die on the battlefield, they are right to fear it." Tam very much being in the 'scare them straight' camp of child-rearing, despite her great patience with toddlers. To her, training a soldier was much alike to raising a kid. Can't help but see the similarities myself. Never any trouble between us on that count.

"They're even more right to fear our fearless leader," Armen noted, nodding in my direction, "He seems as cool as a pool of water, and that scares _me._ "

Taken aback that I seemed so calm, I leaned on the balcony's railing and peered over at the nearest troops. Some were stealing glances at me, and sure enough, the looks of confusion I seemed to be generating confirmed Armen's sentiments. In truth, my gut felt like it was being scrambled and forced up into my throat. The weight of failure there was mind-numbing. Perhaps that is why I appeared to be handling it all so well.

I made my decision.

"They've offered battle, they block the way to something we absolutely must have, so we will attack," I explained, falling back on technicalities to distract me, "If we lose, our entire movement dies and our heads will all be on spikes by summer."

I pointed to the enemy. "Those men and women over there have other options."

Armen's eyes narrowed and his smile dampened. "I didn't know desperation had military uses," he said, shaking his head.

"It does now," I responded tersely, "Thank Tallis, if you're unhappy." Though he would have had to ride back to Hearth, and enter the rather dreary setting of the Baron's dungeon, to do so. Her quarters were too good, as far as I was concerned.

"At least everyone still seems to be moving," Armen continued, "I would have thought they would be weak from all that marching." Food shares had been upped during the past two days to insure that, I had seen to it.

"Best we get started," I said, "Armen, would you mind fetching Julie and the others? The useless ones too." Meaning the nobles.

The mage inclined his head to acquiesce, and left quickly. Not before giving Tam a dopey grin again, dirty-minded idiot that he was at such inappropriate moments, but I forgave him regardless. After all, he was going to be right beside me.

Tam came closer, drawing up alongside me, bending over the railing and resting her elbows on the wood. Which had extremely gratifying effects on her person, silver-gold hair spilling forwards onto grey skin, exposed to the extent that the latter usually was. Cheering me up to a considerable degree. It was my turn to grin like an idiot, as uncontrollable as it was. Of course, Tam had wandering attentions too, however quiet she was about it.

"Remember when that chevalier came hunting us, on that hill?" Tam began, slowly, "We were stuck in a hole, waiting for the fight." The warm memory flooded back into my mind. I hadn't thought of that moment for a while, and it was pleasant to recall it.

"How could I forget," I replied, half-laughing, "Julie's proposal."

"We're in a similar situation now, are we not?" Tam said, her even tone of voice at complete odds with the suggestion she was making.

"Eh, yes?" I said, "So?"

"You idiot," she replied laughing, shaking her head.

Tam brought herself to her full height, that is a few inches above my own, turning to me. Her violet eyes filled my sight, as she came closer. She brought both her hands onto my cheeks, lightly holding my head in place. The kiss came softly, not as lustful as the many we had shared before, but far more possessive. Almost desperately so. Her hands moved away from my face and onto my shoulders. My own moved to the the small of her back. Her compassion, her discipline, her fearlessness in a fight, I was very glad to have that by my side. It was a relief given what we were about to face.

We stood there, entangled in each other.

A deep cough struck the air. We broke off the kiss, not the rest of the contact, and turned our heads towards the room, the source of the noise. Standing there was Julie and Leha.

The former grinning, her hands on her hips. She was in Earth gear, firelance slung over her shoulder, her brown hair leaking out of her helmet, combat webbing packed with ammunition. Warhammer on her hip. Damn. Leha was in her own battle gear; chainmail, scabbard and crossbow.

They paced over together.

"You're about to lead an army into battle for the first time," Leha said, "And you're up here, snogging the Qunari. In front of the same army." A finger extended outwards to the troops beyond. They were watching with intense interest. The units directly by us were our own, so some took it as a sign to kiss their loved ones goodbye.

Inadvertently, I had made our morale problem worse. Possibly. I cursed under my breath.

"I think I am," I said, lost for any other response.

Leha's head would have spun off her head, if she had shook it any harder. "Unbelievable," she muttered, throwing her hands up, "You're children." The woman in my arms was less than amused by this response.

"In less than an hour, we'll be facing death," Tam snapped, "I insist on enjoying a last moment before we do." Julie's ideas had rubbed off on her further, as you can tell from that line. She illustrated by drawing me still closer, no less. The dwarf stepped forward, anger on her face. Our lover paced ahead of her, cutting onto her path.

"You'll have to forgive Leha," Julie put in kindly, "She's had bad feelings about this whole thing for days now."

"Nightmares, never mind bad feelings," the dwarf corrected, "Mind-shaking nightmares."

I pulled away from Tam slightly, and examined Leha more closely. Sure enough, her eyes had bags, and her skin was of a less healthy colour than usual. She was dressed for battle at least, chainmail and padded leather hugging her form, crossbow on her back and her sword at her waist. She was not so tired to abandon her duty. Her future was as tied up with the success of the revolution as anyone else's, perhaps more so.

"Well, it's too late now," said Julie, "No use crying over spilled milk, as Sam says."

With that said, she came up and kissed us both. When it was over, my entire body felt twice as heavy. A sense of dread. That it might be the last time. I knew that I wasn't the only one feeling it either.

* * *

The planning of the battle was swift and almost non-existent, because we did not have many options, as outnumbered as we were. It relied entirely on our new advantages. Our army was arranged according to what sort of soldiers we had.

Filling out fully half our line from the left, I placed the troops that I hadn't expected to show up; the noble's household troops and levies they had brought for their personal glory. Where they wouldn't get in the way, and where their experience in primitive warfare could counteract the enemy's elite, which was facing them. Their line curved away towards the rear, so that the enemy couldn't use their numbers to simply bypass and surround us. Skull-Mask was put in general command of these troops, as he was by far the most experienced at commanding just such an army. He was also the most experienced at dealing with chevaliers.

From the centre to the right was the beginnings of the Free Army, the levies I had asked for from each of the lords who had signed up to our alliance. They were joined by troops from Hearth that weren't my own, and were armed pretty much as any other Orlesian was at the time. With a few modifications. They had been trained over the weeks previous to move and fight in formation, something that was largely alien to Thedosian armies. These men and women were under Pierre's command. I didn't trust him with anything as a rule, considering he coveted Julie, but the exception was this sort of job. He knew what he was doing. He had spent the spare weeks familiarising himself with our methods too, a most admirable move.

From the right to the edge of our line bordered by the trees and the river were the Peacekeepers. The Knight-Enchanters, the Grenadiers, the Libertarians, the Long-Spears, and the Rangers. Joined by their newest brothers and sisters in arms, the Vice-Regal Guard; Louise de Villars and her chevaliers. The artillery was parked along the raised banks of the river, their line of fire cleared of trees by their assisting mages, ready to be floated downriver back to Hearth on commandeered ore-barges if things went south.

Julie, Tam, Ciara, Leha, Blondie and I were in front of all of this a little ways, mounted up in a line of desert-camouflaged uniforms in front a sea of green ones. A ring of chevaliers to our back and sides. Armen was with the Knight-Enchanters, commanding the Libertarian mages from the front. Politics was behind that move.

The wait was horrible. I leaned back in my saddle and looked up at the sky. The clouds were thin, but covered every patch of blue. Two eagles circled over head, diving at each other. I wasn't sure if they were mating or fighting, but it distracted me for a bit.

The enemy completely failed to be impressed by our arrangements, and I guess the Marquis DuRellion wanted to get it over with before dinner. Horns blew and shouts raised themselves in salute to the lords of the Emprise. Fearlessly, the troops stretching before us began marching directly forwards, through the fallow farmland and hardening mud, as if we were nothing but insects to be crushed. I cursed under my breath at their confidence, finding my own bruised.

A great groan went up from our own line, adding to my woes.

"Well then... Good luck," I said on the radio, "Stick to the plan, and we'll have a chance." The plan being to let them come into range of our cannons, firelances and mages on the right, while the left held as best it could. Not exactly a proactive strategy.

A variety of acknowledgements came from my colonels, ranging from McNulty's cursing complaints to Velarana's proper and formal affirmative. Everyone handling the sight in their own way.

"They really don't like us," Ciara said beside me.

"We're shaking the ground on which they've built their lives," remarked Julie, her eyes scanning the oncoming hordes, "They'll never accept elves or mages as their equals." Which was true, for many of them. For many back home too, only the strength and prestige of our movement holding back expression of those hatreds.

"Or they've been offered bonuses for the first to get stuck in," Leha interrupted.

"More likely," Tam said, "Doesn't matter, they'll kill us with glee."

"We shall see," sniffed Louise de Villars, clearly liking her own chances.

I looked out to our troops, extending hundreds of yards to my left. The hesitations they had felt were beginning to affect their behaviour. Heads swivelled between the enemy and their fellows in the line, the sergeants barking and pointing at wavering individuals to hold the line. Guilt poured over me, knowing that I had made that worse.

"Fuck," I said, simply and dreadfully. I returned my attention to the enemy. They were about a third of the way there, avoiding the wooded river embankment, sweeping down in the open where they could bring their numbers to bear, where they could shoot at the mages from as far away as possible.

What happened next still beggars my belief.

In my peripheral vision, Julie looked at me and at our army. Before I could ask her what she was doing, she gave her reins a tug and shouted. Immediately, Revas took off, carrying her onwards in a flash of white. Directly towards the enemy, no less. Julie took off her helmet, and her long hair caught in the breeze. Everyone would know it was her now, even those looking to kill us. Both armies watched in stunned fascination, myself included.

There was a small hillock, no higher than a man's shoulders but broad enough to hold a horse or two with ease. A mound really, about a third of the remaining distance between the armies. Revas hopped up onto it, Julie atop her, visible to every man and woman present.

The thinning clouds parted, and sunlight poured onto her, beams of it.

Revas reared up, and Julie raised her warhammer above her head, taunting the enemy. The horse went back on all fours but Julie kept her weapon held aloft, shouting for the common soldiers facing us to keep their arms and to turn against their lords. Her exact words were lost in the din of moving flesh and metal.

The two eagles that had been circling above dove down. One silver-headed, the other a rich brown from head to claw, and together, glided over and landed on Julie's warhammer, on the handle to either side of her clutched hand. Facing the enemy, they let out more shrieks, wings spread. Julie froze, looking up at them over her shoulder.

That is why today, our coat of arms and that of two of the great houses feature eagles perched on warhammers. Supported by lightning bolts, though that is a nod to Armen's great contributions to our cause.

"What in the name of..." I thought aloud.

The troops that had been moving forward so boldly stopped their advance dead too.

A great roar went up from our lines, most loudly from our own troops but shared by every commoner in the Free Army.

" _VIVE LA FAYETTE!_ "

" _VIVE LA FAYETTE!_ "

" _VIVE LA FAYETTE!_ "

The words continued in a one-one-two beat, like a drum or a trumpet. By a set of miracles, our army's fighting spirit had been restored.

I was numb for a minute afterwards. A nudge from Tam later, and I recovered my senses.

"Mother Brandon may be right," I said to no one in particular, "This is too much of a coincidence."

"This is Julie," Tam smiled, "Maker-sent or not." Not that my Qunari lover believed in the Maker anyway.

The first of our opponents to recover, inevitably, were the nobles, whom were far less impressed by the display than their vassals. Three companies of heavy cavalry trotted out from their lines, their crossbowmen getting out of the way only just in time. Their infantry stalled behind them, they galloped towards Julie's hillock. The hairs on my neck stood on end. I panicked.

"Alright, Joan of Arc," I said quickly and urgently on our personal radio channel, "Time to get out of there."

"I want to, but the damn eagles are refusing to fly away!" Julie growled back,.

She was still holding the warhammer up over her head. To everyone else, it seemed to be sheer defiance. History certainly records it as such. Perhaps it was, to some degree. It may have had more to do with not having her face clawed to pieces by her new friends. Still, the consequence was another round of cacophonous shouts. The enemy knights moved forwards, relenting not one moment. Contemptuous of our upstart soldiers.

"Tam," I said. She knew what I meant immediately.

"You two," Tam shouted, pointing to the two nearest chevaliers, one of whom was holding the UN flag, "With me!"

Fritz jumped off into a run, tracking Revas' hoof-prints in the dirt and grass. Tam made good time towards Julie. The blue banner followed, with the chevaliers below it. Julie finally managed to get Revas to begin moving towards Tam and the escort, but the horse was far more skittish than Bellona or Fritz. The eagles utterly refused to budge, and the animal was unused to seeing them so close.

My throat closed on itself as I realised the enemy would reach Julie first, and would catch the whole group. Without a doubt. I coughed hard to clear my airways, struggling to get the words them out.

"Artillery, enemy cavalry advancing on the Banner, fire at will!"

"Yes, Viceroy," said the even tones of the Tranquil commanding the battery that week. I have to say, the emotionless delivery did a world of good for my own calm. To my right on a jutting portion of the embankment, the gunners began the loading procedure for the fifteen cannons, the lighter ones that we managed to get through the mud. It took an agonisingly long time from my perspective.

The gallop of the enemy knights turned into an all out charge, their line fraying as those on the faster warhorses broke ahead of the pack. Still the eagles refused to move. Julie had abandoned trying to get them to, having attempted everything short of shooting them. She appeared to be trying to pull out her handcannon to do just that. Or that she was preparing to stand her ground against hundreds. Tam drew up alongside her, longsword at the ready, as the two escorting chevaliers waited at the bottom of the mound. I shouted again for the cannons to fire.

"Ready, ready, ready," chimed the Tranquil battery officers in turn, not caring for my desperation, following their training to the tee.

"Fire," said their commander.

The cannons roared, and the eagles flew off. The rifled-bolts sailed through the air, making an eerie warbling-whistling sound as they did so. "The Fire Wyrms' Call" they call it now in history books.

The great disadvantage of bringing the Tranquil into combat is that they will tend to underestimate or misjudge the risks to their friends, or take their orders too literally. The enemy cavalry couldn't have been more than five paces away from Julie when the shots arrived, or at least the first three were. The closest took a shot to his horse's neck, decapitating it in a spray of gore. The other two took a single round together, sweeping through the side of the front rider and thumping into the head of the horse behind. The other thirteen rounds landed in among the rest of the formation, killing many and shocking the survivors into a halt, as horses turned and bucked, confused and afraid of what was happening.

I barely registered this. Julie had been in the middle of the storm of flying metal, and more to the point, the blood from the foremost rider and horse had covered her from head to toe. Revas stumbled. I had no idea if she had been hit, but it looked like it.

"CEASE FIRE!" I roared, loud enough so the Tranquil could have heard me in hell, radio or not.

"Acknowledged, Viceroy," came the toneless reply. The gunners kept swabbing the cannons' insides, preparing for the next volley.

I turned my eyes back to Julie, as the army jeered. She was fine, though coloured a slick dark red. Revas was back on solid footing, and she waving her helmet around as she galloped back towards us with a very relieved looking Tam and the two bewildered chevaliers. The jeering continued at the enemy, as they rallied in the middle of the fields, not sure what to do now that they had been bloodied. There certainly were a good number fewer of them than I had counted when they had first moved.

Julie and Tam returned beside me. The former looked a bit sick. Even her face was covered with sticky, drying ichor. Most of it horse blood.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"No," Julie replied, almost remaining stoic, "But at least I know my weapons work." She poured her canteen flask over her head, squeezing the gore out of her hair and wiping her face off. She gagged a little, but held herself firm. She tied the hair in a long tail, so it wouldn't bother her.

"You did not need to get that close to confirm such a thing," Tam said, sheathing her sword, "We almost lost you."

"She'll do what she'll do," Leha chided, aiming her comment at the Qunari, "Don't bother trying to stop her."

I breathed deeply outwards, as if for the first time after surfacing from the ocean. How utterly nerve wrecking it is, to be taken to such a high only for a nightmare to drown you, and then tossed back to relief. That's why we drink, I guess.

The enemy cavalry were in retreat now at last, and the rest of our opposition remained rooted to the spot. Perhaps believing themselves out of range of whatever mechanical monstrosities we had brought to bear on the flower of the Emprise's nobility. Our own troops continued shouting and jeering, their own fears completely forgotten in the drama that had played out before their eyes. The Maker's omens, the treacherous charge by the enemy, the defiant stand, the enemy struck down as if by divinity itself.

"They're enthusiastic," remarked Ciara, her bow across her lap, pointing at our troops.

It occurred to me at that moment that their zeal might die at any second, the reality of the numbers against us pressed home once again. I had to act.

"Peacekeepers, close with the enemy," I ordered by radio, "Artillery, target the main body and fire at will."

"Yes, my lord!" came the reply from all of my colonels, Mike's shout half-drowning out the others.

The shouts from the sergeants echoed, as the commands were given. The music began, fifes and drums piercing the air with their sounds, as the one and a half thousand men and women under my command marched forward bravely. No need to relay the command to the rest of the army. They'd get the picture.

McNulty's guys began to sing along to the tune in Common, at the top of their lungs, punctuating their steps with the lyrics.

 _Some talk of Alexander, and some of Hercules,_

 _Of Aveline and Drakon and such brave names as these,_

 _But of all the world's heroes, there's none that can compare,_

 _With the tow row row row row row to Hunt's Grenadiers!_

An interesting song, if only due to the mixture of Earth and Orlesian storytelling.

The sound encouraged the others greatly, and the pace picked up visibly. The others looked on in awe at the sight of such a small force marching on thirty to forty times their number. I on the other hand would have been surprised if they had _failed_ to march. I had drilled and drilled this discipline and élan into them since the summer before, and fought alongside them in the skirmishes against the Templars. My pride grew in my chest. In retrospect, it was very much akin to watching my sons and daughters walk for the first time on their own.

"Soprano, Blondie, you're with us," I radioed, "Follow my banner along the river." The cannons sounded off their first barrage into the general throng of the enemy infantry, precluding any response.

The Charge of the Peacekeepers had begun.

* * *

The details of the full battle have been explored in my other, more public writings, but I will commit my own direct memories of the fighting to record here.

We rode ahead of the advance through the woods by the river, the enemy having given that area a wide berth for fear of ambush. I remember weaving through the trees quite vividly, heartbeat banging away in my ear, added to the hooves' beats of the horses behind me. Every few seconds, I'd look around to the left, expecting to see chevaliers coming to stop us. They didn't come, and eventually, we drew up alongside the enemy army. We dismounted the infantry quickly, and had the horseboys take our mounts to the river.

Blondie and Soprano wasted little time in arranging their people, our troops loading their weapons, while our … family group paced to the edge of the forest to see what else was happening. I was of course getting reports in my ear from the other colonels, but these were clipped. The fighting had started. I wanted to see it with my own eyes, and was in a decent place to do so, being on the raised embankment. I took out my binoculars and looked around.

First thing I saw was that there was a ruckus among the enemy's rear ranks, as they wheeled ranks soldiers towards us. Quite possibly enough to stop us. In theory. The thing most people forget in military calculations is the will to fight. Your numbers are always multiplied by the aggression of your own troops, and the same is true of the enemy. So, I was rather unimpressed by the forces arranging themselves against us. The Rangers were by far the most aggressive people around.

To the left of the gathering forces, the rest of the Peacekeepers were getting stuck in. Already, flurries of magical bolts were scurrying through the air, through the exchange of bolts and arrows. It looked like Pierre had brought up the rest of the Free Army too, and was closing in to close up the centre. Old Maurice and the nobles' troops weren't anywhere to be seen, but that was fine. If they stood their ground, I had ideas about turning the whole battle and rolling up their lines like rolling up a carpet.

I grinned to myself, as I saw it.

"Good news?" asked Ciara, having noticed me.

"We might have them by the balls," I replied.

"Ouch," Leha remarked.

"Very," I said, "Stick by me, we'll be going forwards soon."

Ciara nodded, and nocked her bow with a plate-piercing squarehead arrow. Tam and Julie followed suit, readying bow and firelance respectively, Leha having never slung her crossbow in the first place. I kept mine at my side. The time hadn't come yet.

The next cannon volley whirred through the air, straight into the front ranks of the largest body of footmen facing off against the Long-Spears. Even from a distance, the … pink mist was clearly visible, as dozens of men were killed and the rest put on notice. I could not help but think the latter insanely brave. One of my followers had different views.

"Maker save us," Louise de Villars said, clutching a pendant of Andraste, "I have not seen anything like that before."

She had foregone her mask for the moment, and had paled at the sight. I frowned, not at her squeamishness at seeing men ripped apart, as if by a force of nature rather than a tool of war. No, I simply realised that my betrayal of a principle I swore to defend had come at last.

" _And now I am become death_ ," I quoted, " _The destroyer of worlds_."

All heads turned to me, horrified. Except for Julie. She was familiar with the quote and the context in which it was most famously used. She simply smiled. Peace through strength; words quite literally tattooed on her, body and soul. Motto of her household now, and of more than half my grandchildren. However harsh that may be, I have had great reason to be glad that such a lesson has been passed on to them.

I saw that our chevaliers, now in half-plate for a frontal attack, and the Rangers were ready at the front. The Lancers remained to the rear. Soprano joined us, her hair and pointed ears poking out from under her Earth helmet, her form covered with kevlar. If it wasn't for the ears, she would have passed more or less.

"Colonel," I nodded, returning my gaze to the battle.

The battle had nearly closed to melee. The pikemen, their pikes at full length in battle for the first time, were almost in the enemy's gizzards. The enemy soldiers weren't stupid enough to simply run into them, and were backing off. Elsewhere, a few dozen _steilhandgranates_ were bursting in the enemy ranks as McNulty's boys closed the gap.

Perhaps most spectacular were the mages and Templars. Spirit blades and steel-rimmed shields, both moving to crush the enemy as one. I spotted Armen out front. Just as I began to wonder what the hell he was playing at, a gout of flame thirty feet long erupted from his staff like a flamethrower. Sticky flames too, not simply Fade-fire. He immolated thirty men, before Templars closed shields in front of him to deflect the crossbow bolts that were sure to come in retaliation. Armen's youth often struck me as at odds with his position among his kind, but if there is anything that demonstrates he was among equals at the top of the mage ranks, it is this display of elemental power.

"Looks like Armen has things well in hand," I said, "Colonel, Lady de Villars... stand to."

Soprano called over her sergeant, the same sergeant that had fetched me from Élodie's home before the Qunari-inspired riots.

"Bayonets," she said to her subordinates. The sergeant saluted.

"BAYONETS!" roared the sergeant. She was more quiet than Mike, now Colonel Mike, but loud enough to make my ears hurt.

The Rangers stood a step forward together, placed the butts of the firelances on the ground, and held the barrels out. In a single sweeping motion, they pulled the long, tapered silverite sword-bayonets from scabbards on their back, and locked them onto the bottoms of their weapons. As one, they brought their weapons to their shoulders, and reformed their line in closer order. It was parade-ground work they had done a thousand times. The hard part was to come.

The chevaliers drew their swords and moved in behind the Rangers, the typical arrangement of ranged and melee troops in Orlais.

"Okay, let's see..." I muttered, bringing up my binoculars yet again.

I immediately saw what I had been waiting for. The physical clash of soldiers had finally begun. 'Beard to beard' as the Bard would say. The enemy's front was now heavily engaged and could not withdraw. Furthermore, the troops sent to intercept us had finally formed up and were moving towards us. Perfect.

"That's it," I said to Soprano and Blondie, "Move out."

The drum beat the advance, and the Rangers stepped in unison, moving their weapons from their shoulders and into their hands. The Vice-Regal Guard paced behind, shields raised and swords resting on top of them. The Lancers trotted at the back.

We were up front, with a group of ten chevaliers. No real danger there; the troops across from us had no ranged weapons. All of those had been sent against the mages. It didn't take long for me to realise that they were favoured men though. No wooden shields and cheap spears for them. Chainmail, partial-plate and longswords. Similar enough to our own chevaliers, albeit cheaper. More expendable. There were a few more of them than us, but not by much. All I saw was dead men walking, as I unslung my own assault-firelance.

Tam and Ciara ran ahead a little, and started the fight. They loosed two arrows into the throng, catching their targets. It didn't do much, as far as I could tell, the padding underneath their armour doing much to stop the lethality of the arrows. Despite this, they began running towards us at a steady job.

"Halt," called Soprano, her voice echoing on the radio. The Rangers stopped, and tidied up their line. I took a knee in front. Julie and Leha copied me, aiming their weapons, while Ciara and Tam loosed another few speculative arrows. I considered joining in, but rejected the idea. No need to warn the enemy of what was coming. Soprano was on top of it now.

" _Presentez vos armes!"_

The Rangers brought their muzzle-loaded firelances up and cocked their flints. The enemy was about one hundred and twenty yards away and closing.

" _En joue!"_

The Rangers took aim, at the closest individual targets, as they had been trained to do.

" _FEU!"_

Our line erupted in noise and white smoke, as two hundred firelances went off at once. The minié balls struck home, the wounds sprouting like red flowers on the white-and-green tabards of their victims. The Black Lion of the House of Chalons had been dirtied with it, to boot. As had happened to the zealots we had put to the sword in Hearth, it wasn't simply a case of people being struck in the chest or gut. Limbs were lost, causing those behind and to the sides to stumble, as the unfortunate losers spun and fell. Yet they still came on.

"Julie," I said.

"Ready," she replied.

We brought up our own firelances, and began cracking off bursts. We targeted anyone who looked more important than the rest; anyone with feathers, a hat or a mask. By the time we had emptied our magazines, no one wearing those items was left to be seen.

" _En joue! FEU!"_

The second firelance volley from the Rangers ripped into the infantry formation at about seventy yards. It was far more deadly than the first, and opened holes in their lines large enough for carts to pass through. Yet still they came on.

But now, they had been whittled down enough for another move.

"Charge," I ordered, getting to my feet.

The chevaliers joined our firelancers' line, and we all ran at the enemy. Up went the rebel yell, filling the air with the chorus. The chevaliers even joined in, taken by the atmosphere of elation. Tam, Leha and Ciara drew their blades, and we charged home. The enemy still did not collapse into a rout.

Where Julie and I engaged, there was no great clash of sword and shield. We reaped with the scythe of Death herself, crippling or killing in relay, taking turns to fire. We had practised this. The occasional straggler was caught by Tam here, Ciara or Leha there, and killed with clinical precision in the peculiar ways each of them could bring. I was in my battle trance, the state of sheer concentration and bloodlust I fall into almost automatically, as you will have guessed if you have read the previous chapters. Julie was too, for the first time, I think. Tam could fall into such a state consciously.

Elsewhere, the battle was more intimate. The Rangers, having finished reloading on the advance, fired their firelances point-blank into the faces and guts of the swordsmen, before driving home with their bayonets. The chevaliers delivered the final stroke, ranging through the enemy ranks, protected by their armour and defensive skill. Pinned in place by the nobles, there was no retreat from the advance of the bayonets.

We killed them all. I don't remember after all these years if any even offered to surrender.

Next thing I know, I'm standing in the tangle of corpses, sweating like a pig. Our forces were regrouping, readying for my next move. Tam offered me a water skin, which I took with eagerness. Some of the water dripped down, and that drew my eyes to the ground.

Below me was a dead man, but something was off about him. I kicked off his helmet, he wouldn't mind, and discovered that he was a boy. Younger than Ciara without a doubt, probably about fifteen. Big for his age. A large, ragged hole from a minié in his heart, eyes looking up at the sky.

"Jesus Christ," I said, "They're putting kids on the field?"

Julie heard, and came over. Still bloodsplattered.

"Not everyone believes adulthood begins at eighteen, Sam," she said, "If you're big enough to swing a sword, you're old enough to go into battle. Many would agree."

I felt my chest tighten, not with disgust, but rage. I scanned the battle. Our entire line was in the fight now, but the rear of the enemy was completely exposed. Worse, they didn't even seem to realise it.

"Soprano, the way is clear for the Lancers," I said, "Send them in."

"Yes, my lord," she replied.

The elven colonel pulled a horn to her lips, and blew out a loud drone. The captain of the lancers blew his own horn in reply, and the cavalry began to move off towards the fight.

"We've won," said Julie, not quite believing it.

"Not yet," I replied, getting out my binoculars once more, "Almost."

* * *

A few minutes later, the lancers levelled their lances and charged. The effect was immediate. Already badly bloodied by the mages and cannons, the enemy left flank broke and ran. McNulty, Mike, Velarana and Armen, obeying the principles I had taught them and getting the general idea of what I had intended, rolled our troops leftwards like a great jaw, moving up in support of the centre rather than chasing down the fleeing troops. This no doubt saved Pierre and the rest of the Free Army from eventual defeat; they were still badly outnumbered.

I was very satisfied, and put away my binoculars with renewed hope for a crushing victory. Sure enough, more enemy companies began breaking off from the fight, albeit in more order than their comrades had, trying to escape the sprung trap.

The sound of neighing horses caught my attention. I turned, and I wasn't the only one, looking about for the source of the noise.

Out of the forests that began on the foothills, came a group of chevaliers. At their head was a large man in a yellow mask, a stylised moustache on its enamelled lip. The Rangers immediately formed a square to repel cavalry, and began reloading their firelances. Our own chevaliers rallied to Louise de Villars and I, in the middle of the square.

"They're not going to charge, are they?" I asked the Lady. There were enough horsemen to get in close before we could kill them all. In theory.

"Doubtful, their swords are sheathed, and their banners held at half-post," Louise replied, with some hesitation, "That is the Marquis DuRellion. He may be overlord of the Emprise, but he is not for Gaspard."

"So what does he want?" asked Tam, bringing her bow back over her shoulder.

"We shall see," Louise replied rudely, "Patience, Qunari."

Tam growled back an insult, and Julie shouldered her firelance. Just in case. Louise did not respond to this, to my immense gratitude. Eventually, the Marquis got close enough to talk to.

"That's far enough," shouted Soprano, "State your business or be fired upon."

"I am the Marquis DuRellion, commander of the forces of the Emprise and Royal Governor," he said, "I come to negotiate my surrender."

The colonel looked back at me, but I said and did nothing. I wasn't going to speak to the man while his army was still fighting. She got the picture, and turned back.

"Your army continues to fight," Soparno replied, thumbing over her shoulder at the deteriorating situation in the farmlands beyond, "Order an immediate and unconditional surrender, and you will not be harmed."

DuRellion flinched, his horse shifting its weight in response to the gesture.

"My army is not my army," he replied, "They are already retreating, to fight another day. I do not wish to continue this pointless conflict. What forces are under my control will lay down their arms, but I cannot guarantee the compliance of the other nobles."

I stepped forward, through the ranks of the Rangers. Alone. I made sure of that, waving to Julie and Tam to stay put. They could cover me from inside the infantry square anyway. I moved close enough so that shouting wasn't required to speak, so I could have a civilised conversation.

"I am the Marquis de La Fayette," I said, "Are you familiar with who I am?"

"The Outlander," DuRellion replied flatly, "Legate Tiberius in Halamshiral was very fond of talking about you and your exploits this past winter. You're from another world, if I am to believe what I am told."

I nodded. "That is true," I said, "Meaning that it would be foolish to be stubborn, considering that only the Maker could have brought me here." Nothing like a little religious blackmail.

"I will not lose my lands and titles to you," he said, "Those are my only terms."

"I refuse," I said immediately, "In a few hours, there will be no army left to defend your lands and I can take them as I please. Not for myself, of course, but to return to the people that work them. The commons, the merchants and petty nobles. The _real_ people. There is no reason for you and your family to be put in danger, when you undoubtedly have other lands to which you can move and live comfortably. Just not in the Dales."

"And if I refuse?" DuRellion asked.

"I will do nothing to you," I said, "It is not my place... But I will turn you over to the people to judge and punish, as they see fit. I understand their opinion of fattened aristocrats has dropped lately. Who knows what they might come up with?" I had quite the self-satisfied, shit-eating grin on my face by this point, I am quite sure. Alas, I was taking a great deal of pleasure in this, even if he was a Celene loyalist.

DuRellion said nothing, his eyes moving upwards to the sky as he thought about it. I knew already that he would agree. To disagree would mean death, or throwing his lot in with Gaspard. Most likely just the latter, whether it was at that moment or weeks later when I could shatter his castles with my heavy artillery.

He drew his sabre, backwards with the blade down, and threw it at my feet. His chevaliers did the same in turn, followed by their longswords and daggers.

"I accept your surrender," I said.

Victory and Sahrnia were ours.

* * *

 _AUTHOR'S NOTE: So, Sam pulled a Stonewall Jackson. Or perhaps, an Alexander._

 _ **In Defilade:** I googled Eric Flint after the last chapter. The 1632 series is what you were referring to, yes? I had not read or even heard of it until you mentioned it, but I have now read through 1632 and 1633, and I'm half way through 1634: the Ram Rebellion. Very interesting perspective._

 _Though, and this may seem very ironic considering the above chapter ended the way it did, Flint's work seems very... optimistic. Admittedly, Grantville had much more to work with than Sam did. Doesn't surprise me that others have explored similar contexts, though the presence of magic in Thedas makes certain things easier for Sam._

 _ **Drgyen:** The Qunari leader here is *a* Viddasala, but not the same one from Trespasser, though yes, that will be a different tale entirely due to Sam's arrival. And of course Sam will meet Bull again._

 _ **Lord Mortem:** Cheers!_

 _ **5 Coloured Walker:** The lack of errors makes you think it's a callback to what other errors? Errors in other people's works or in my other chapters! There's no shortage of either._


	28. Chapter 28: Children of the Revolution

**Chapter Twenty-Eight: Children of the Revolution**

The next month consisted of chasing up the surviving losers of our glorious victory. Our troops were hot on their heels the whole time, and they weren't able to come together again to fight as a single army. So, the job came down to reducing castle gatehouses to rubble with cannonfire, and accepting the inevitable surrenders. The castles and keeps that didn't surrender got taken by force. Soprano may have played the decisive role at Sahrnia, but it was McNulty who brought the fight to all the hardasses once their fortresses had been cracked open. The particulars of each siege are written down in my other publication, _The Free Army_ , should you wish to know more. I found them simply irritating, of no real note beyond the ultimate aim. So did Leha, who went with me as our quartermaster. Even the ones where we did end up fighting. The barons of the Emprise were a stubborn lot.

So the Peacekeeper, singular, became the Peacekeepers, plural. Of course, I am still _the_ Peacekeeper. Sometimes called the First Peacekeeper. Regardless, the name became one of dread to our enemies, and one of hope to commoners across the world.

All baronies within the Emprise du Lion were under our control in short order. So too were the Emerald Graves. The nobles there, so few in number and so far from the seats of power of the Empire, were greatly sympathetic to our cause. We received pledges of troops, which I rejected, and requests for positions of service for sons and daughters, which I accepted. Those that weren't sympathetic sent hostages to us out of fear. I put the whole lot of teenagers together, and sent them to Hearth, after I had dismissed the nobles' forces. DuRellion came with us, our prisoner, albeit one in a golden cage.

Julie, Tam, Ciara and Armen had remained at Sahrnia. Making themselves very popular, hiring all the blacksmiths in the place, labourers for the quarry, establishing a fairer order than had been present under Lady Poulin. The Libertarians were with them, to heal the sick and the wounded. All made possible by the fact that all feudal dues in the Emprise were now payable to me, the Viceroy. We weren't on the edge of our finances any more, far from it.

Which was the start of much trouble, as you may or may not imagine.

The question of what would happen _after_ we had secured our borders against the immediate threats looming over us had never really been asked seriously. However, we had won ourselves plentiful breathing room. Nothing short of the Empress coming out against us openly could have crushed that. With safety, comes comfort and hopes for the future, and everyone has their own ideas about the future running of a country. Especially when there is no press, no internet, in which ideas can be shared and can mix together. Everyone moved in different circles. All of which I would discover as the campaign drew to a close.

In retrospect, I must confess that I handled the whole thing incorrectly. I should have imposed my will, I should have struck first against the next set of enemies.

I should have listened to Julie and Tam.

* * *

By the time the Free Army returned to Sahrnia, I had sent word ahead for three days of celebratory games and feasts, a suitably Orlesian response to a set of great victories I was told. The town, or rather its nearby hot springs, were the ideal site. The haunt of dragons now, even after Trevelyan cleared them once, they were still in more or less pristine condition when we had taken the town. Even better, the weather had warmed up considerably as we reached the middle of May. Hot breezy days and cool nights. Absolutely perfect. I have to admit to a huge amount of optimism as I rode into town with Leha.

How foolish of me.

There was an ambush ahead, lobbyists lying in wait rather than soldiers, to jump me at any moment they thought looked spare. No shortage of such moments too, given that we weren't on the march and we weren't in the fight. Of course, not everyone was a hardened political type. Most were far from it, acting as such without even meaning to.

The most prominent of this category, though by no means the only ones, were my two non-magical elven colonels. Soprano and Mike had something on their minds, a fear of sorts. They were simply the first to have the opportunity to speak to me, by virtue of their ranks. It started almost as soon as I myself arrived back in Sahrnia.

The Army began reoccupying the camp we had established in the lower parts of Suledin Keep near the quarries and the bridge to the hot springs. Exactly where the Red Templars would later camp, in fact, if my reading of the situation there was correct. Leha had stalked off somewhere, Armen and Ciara headed off to discuss their own ideas for the future with Velarana, Julie and Tam had briefly returned to Hearth and were due to arrive back later that day. As everyone knew where to go and what to do, I was essentially left to twiddle my thumbs.

So, I went to find McNulty. He was always a good laugh when you were bored, even when he was working. I rode through the orderly camp, arranged into blocks on the levelled hilltops, looking for him. Louise de Villars, following me like a satellite, came along silently. I passed by several of the grenadiers, most were resting in their tents, but they didn't know where McNulty had went. Eventually, I found myself being taken down the mountain road to the camp near Sahrnia itself.

The guards saluted as I passed, and Louise saluted them back. I found it odd that my military culture was seeping into her bones too, along with an alarming number of people who weren't actually required to salute. It was becoming yet another badge of our movement, more than anything about discipline. As I gave a smirk to Louise's masked face, we blundered into the makeshift assembly ground by the river.

When I turned around, I found Mike speaking to what had to be half of her troops, all of them seated in the grass, with Soprano behind. Both of them were in Earth-panoply, as befitted their rank, though Mike's small size made her look like a kid playing dress up. Or it would have if it wasn't for her other physical attributes. Soprano had Patel's helmet on her hip, a gift I gave her to show that she had my complete confidence. She knew the story of its former dragonling-slaying owner. We came to a halt, neither of them having noticed us. I had decided to listen in to the address, and Louise gave no indication that she wished otherwise. I sat forward in the saddle to eavesdrop that little bit better.

"I know this is a change, but I also know you all saw how effective they were against the _aristos_ ," Mike said loudly, her voice booming with its usual volume, "So, Colonel Soprano will now show you what you will get. Later, her sergeants will begin drilling you in their use."

Mike waved Soprano forwards, and the latter moved up with a firelance in her hand.

"This is the _M_ _odèle_ _38_ rifled-firelance," said Soprano in Orlesian, holding her weapon over her head, "It can kill an armoured knight at three hundred yards, and an unarmoured man or horse at as much as five hundred." Murmurs of both disbelief and appreciation rippled through the crowd, but truth be told, those estimates were probably a little pessimistic. Julie had tested one out at six hundred and fifty yards, with my telescopic sight, and made her mark. Though she was an outlier in more ways than one.

Regardless, Soprano brought the weapon's butt to rest on her hip, its barrel sticking up into the air, her hand around the grip. A sight the men probably enjoyed to no end. Her hourglass figure was part of the reason her people listened to her so intently, I thought. That and the fact she was as dangerous as Tam on a rampage.

"It is the death of every tyrannical little _bâtard_ from here to Ghislain, and beyond," Soprano continued, "It is with this that we will free ourselves, as the Marquise as written. With this, all the wealth, strength and training a chevalier can bring mean nothing." All true, of course. The Qunari were already the terror of the established order across Thedas, and our weapons made theirs look like playthings. Not that theirs couldn't give us trouble, as you dear readers shall see. I think it's important to note that many of my fellow Americans would approve heartily of the Colonel's sentiments, not least significant parts of my own family. An armed populace cannot be coerced, or so goes the theory.

Louise by contrast was not impressed. A snort of derision erupted from her mask, head upturned ever so slightly. My smirk disappeared, replaced by widened eyes that implied polite inquiry. Such an eruption demanded explanation.

"Give me a week, and I will shoot better than this _pute de camp_ in my sleep," Louise murmured, leaning across to me. I curled my lip at the outrageous insult against Soprano, but knew that she insulted the Baroness in harsh terms often as well. Of course, my bodyguard had run her mouth into yet another challenge.

"Then let's make it an order," I replied flatly, "Best you learn to shoot now anyway. While our enemies can't shoot back." Well, not with anything more than an arrow, I thought to myself. Louise said nothing, though she did audibly choke down a complaint. She always did operate on the very edge of acceptability as a noble. Thank God, or else I'd be dead. She was a hill-noble, after all. Hill people are always troublesome.

Soprano demonstrated the firing mechanism of the firelance. A flash and a boom later, and she had sent the lead bullet off into the rock of the broken bridge over the river. A pinging echo returned to the satisfaction of my ear. The troops made a pleased ruckus too, whooping and jeering the doubters. That was encouraging. There had been some rumblings in the beginning that the firelances were too dangerous, but I had quickly dispelled such ideas by firing off three dozen rounds from one myself, way back when I first agreed to help Julie's movement.

"You will practice and practice with these until you can fire three shots every minute," Soprano warned, her voice firm, "Until then, you will keep your crossbows for fighting."

The new weapons were being issued to anyone who had previously used a crossbow, rather than to absolutely everyone. There were a couple of reasons for that, the largest being that we couldn't make ten thousand firelances all that easily. Even if we could, the enemies we could potentially face might very well bring enough numbers that it would be unwise to arm everyone like that. Most of all, crossbowmen generally filled out the same role as skirmishing firelancers, and could be drilled into the new way of fighting most easily.

Mike dismissed the troops, and they got up to return to their tents. Seeing my chance, I rode up on the two colonels. Mike, her mindset still somewhat stuck as a sergeant, finally took notice of Louise and I.

"ATTEN-TION!" she roared, the Orlesian tongue stretching the word out, "EN ORDRE SERRÉ!" Her people scrambled into the parade-ground ranks that had been battered into them since winter, and soon presented themselves in very fine order. Soprano smiled to herself, as Mike saluted me.

"At ease, Colonel," I said to Mike, "Dismiss your troops."

"Very well, my lord," she replied. She nodded to her own gunnery-sergeant, a huge human man with hands like shovels and a beard. Shovels began directing the soldiers around us, waving his appendages about as opposed to his commander's more verbal style. A quiet giant led by a bellowing woman that didn't even come up to his shoulder. The combination never fails to amuse me, even now.

"We were just showing off the new boomstick," Soprano explained, saluting.

"I heard," I said, shaking my head, "Julie just had to go and make them, didn't she?"

"First thing the Marquise started doing after you left, my lord," Mike said, "Have to agree with her. They're better than anything I've ever seen before."

I frowned, remembering my words as we saw the cannons tear into men close up for the first time. Julie was a genius, but she never would have created such works of death had I not allowed her to, given her the means to. It troubles me no longer, of course, but it certainly did back then.

"Marquis, if we might have a word with you?" Soprano started, before her eyes flickered to Louise, "Privately?"

"Where he goes, I go," Louise growled at her, "What's the point of a Vice-Regal Guard if I don't?"

The presumption was good, a bodyguard should be in the presence of their charge. That said, I coughed loudly to assert that I was the one who would be making that decision. I'm a big boy, packing big guns. No need to flinch.

"I trust these two," I said, consoling the chevalier's honour, "So can you."

Blondie bowed low in the saddle, to the extent that her horse copied the motion, two creatures of impeccable breeding in action. I had to restrain a laugh at the thought of both of them being thoroughbreds, made for war and breeding in turn. Perhaps a harsh way of looking at it, but the way nobles in other countries carry on, it's still a fairly accurate conception of such lineages. One that Louise herself was cured of, thank the Maker.

Lady de Villars rode off until she was just barely out of earshot, her real opinion well hidden by her mask. Yet, her hand remained on her sabre. She was clearly ready to ride into the fray if anything happened. Yet another insult to Soprano, though a more subtle one than simply calling her fellow Colonel a camp whore as she had to me. I shook my head, and turned to the two who remained.

"What do you want to talk about?" I said. I had become genuinely curious by now.

Soprano looked at Mike. Mike was the more audacious of the two, when it came to talking to me anyway. She had truly come into her own after being promoted to lead a regiment, less raw aggression and more situational awareness. I felt a little spark of pride at that.

"My lord, the world you came from... there were no elves, no Qunari..." Mike began, "You don't know why that was. Were there any other humans who lived on Earth that were... different to you?"

Entirely unsure why that was relevant, I scratched my chin. It wasn't a question I was well qualified to answer, as you will see. Even my historical studies were hopelessly off topic. Thoughts about that question had come to me before, in the hour before the Templar attack on Hearth, but I had kept them quiet. Mike and Soprano must have gotten a hold of a pre-history lesson, from Tam or Julie. However, they were asking just as they had become absolutely indispensable. I refused to give them anything less than my best reply.

"There are plenty of different people," I answered, "Earth is a big place, different peoples developed along different lines." Yet we were all from a valley on a continent called Africa, when you go back far enough. It is my great disappointment that we have not yet found the birthplace of the common ancestor here. Evidence points to the far north, but that's a hard place to go looking in. The Qunari moved for good reasons.

Both Colonels gave each other a glance, as if a suspicion of theirs had been confirmed. That set off alarms.

"Why do you want to know this?" I asked quickly, "Seems like a strange thing to ask about."

Mike dove right in. "You come from a world with humans alone," she replied, "Here, Fereldans might hate Orlesians, but both hate elves more. Maybe that is something you can't understand. Meaning no offence, my lord."

"At one time, we were afraid we would lose," Soprano added softly, "Another failed uprising like so many others, a worthy example. But now, we might win... or rather, you might win. The future of elves may depend on your choices."

Something clicked at last, the reason why they were having this little chat with me.

"You're wondering if I'll abandon you for victory or to keep the peace," I mused aloud, "Now that it looks like I may not need you to win. Probably doesn't help that I've been parading the chevaliers around triumphantly."

I thumbed over my shoulder to Blondie. "I understand why you didn't want her anywhere near this conversation," I added. Soprano smiled at that, providing me with a spark of hope.

This was a delicate matter. If I didn't say the right thing and mean it, I could be facing a mutiny of elves in my ranks. One that would be far too large to put down by force, if I could even bring myself to aim my weapons at such fine people. Sighing, I dismounted and tied Bellona up to a nearby post. I needed to say my piece closer to eye-level.

"You want assurances that you won't be discarded," I said.

"Assurances that we're fighting for us, not just you," replied Mike firmly, even though my words hadn't been a question, "You might not understand the hatred, not really, but you know what happened in these lands. We've been in chains ever since."

I nodded, and waved for the two to walk with me. We began to stroll towards the giant waterfalls. Where I hoped Louise or the pickets would be unable to overhear us.

"I'd like to tell you a story," I said, "One that not even Tam and Julie have heard." I moved to a tree, and sat down against it. The colonels took that as an invitation to do the same, and they sat down in the grass with me. I waited until they were comfortable.

"I'd like you to listen to it all, without interruption," I continued, "Is that acceptable?" It was going to be complicated. They both agreed.

"My own country had a civil war once, over the issue of slavery," I began.

"Your homeland had _slavery?!_ " Mike immediately interrupted, "But..." Given that the formation of Julie's ideals were very much rooted in the ideas from Earth, and in particular my homeland, this was somewhat of a surprise. The Founding Fathers were hypocrites by necessity, like most politicians, but that didn't really stop them from having vision.

I eyed Mike coolly for stopping me.

"Yes, we did, about a hundred and fifty years ago," I stated, "More primitive people with a different skin colour were transported to the land to work plantations. There were no more serfs you see, and there was so much free land that trying to make people into serfs wouldn't have worked. Though the land wasn't exactly free either, we took that from yet another less advanced culture."

The two looked at me in confusion, and I realised that I was speaking in terms that were a little too general. I racked my mind for a similar comparison.

"Imagine if Orlais had killed most of the elves in the Dales instead of making you serfs. It would need people to work as cheaply as possible, right? Now imagine if it kidnapped people in Rivain, because they can't defend themselves, and brought them to the Dales to work the land. That's what happened in my homeland."

A great deal more comprehension settled on Mike's face, her lip curling with disgust. Soprano went a little red, most likely contemplating that such a fate would actually have been worse for the elves, never having thought on it too hard before. I couldn't really argue with that.

"The north of my country slowly but surely got rid of slavery for the first eighty years after independence from our former masters, but the south kept it as cotton became very profitable. My family on my father's side was from Virginia... in the South. My mother's side were rich northerners who dodged the fighting, as far as I know, but hundreds of thousands of people did fight, and with weapons not much different to the ones you've got now, and hundreds of thousands died. In the end, the North won and slavery was abolished forever."

I breathed in, because the next part was hard to recall aloud. It was embarrassing.

"My father's family didn't own any slaves but fought for the South anyway, because their home was being invaded. I knew all about it. The battles, the generals, the glory... The defeat. I'm not exactly a full-blooded southerner, even my accent is wrong, but I guess I tried to compensate. I didn't like the descendants of ex-slaves too much. I didn't think they were good Americans, that they'd wasted the chance bought by blood. My mother tried to talk me out of it, of course, but it didn't do much good. Imagine the opinions of a regular chevalier, and you're pretty close to how I thought about them."

Soprano and Mike were both enraptured now, eyes bolted towards me firmly. I rallied a little. I hoped their attention meant that they understood that this wasn't me, not anymore.

"Then I went off and joined the Army. The Army doesn't give a shit what colour you are and who your great-grand-daddy was, you're meat. Tossed my prejudices in the trash big time, especially once we got into the real bad firefights in a shithole called Afghanistan. The descendants of slaves saved my ass more times than I can count, and I saved their asses too. When Death came for us, we were all just Americans, and we sent the bitch packing full of lead."

I smiled at the memories of some of the shit I pulled back in the day, when I was a roaring, overconfident idiot. Unlike most, I broke down into someone who liked the job. Which probably says more about me than I'd like.

"The people we fought weren't like that. They treated their women like cattle, and they fought among themselves over the most basic ethnic shit you'll ever come across. No unity, just tribes who had killed each other from the dawn of time and will until Armageddon. We were better than them. There's no doubt about it. And we were better because we weren't like that."

"Like what?" asked Mike.

"My point is that a country is stronger when it uses all the talent it has available, and talent isn't where you'd always expect to find it," I replied, "I was fucking stupid to think how I did, and thinking like that weakened my country. It's weakened Orlais too. Look at you guys. You're both better than most nobles at leading people into a fight, and you're both elves. There is no going back to the old way, not any more. You've already proven that you're as good as anyone else, and that some of you may be better than most."

Fatigued from the travelling of the day, I stood up and stretched my arms into the air to loosen the joints. "There's no way I could ever drag you back down, even if I wanted to," I said, "I need you, the country needs you. You've already won, as long as you make sure everyone knows it. They might hate you now, but they might come to admire you later."

The conversation was over.

I left them sitting in the grass with a lot to think about, and walked back to Bellona. Louise rode up beside, her hand finally removed from her weapon. By the time I was in the saddle again, Soprano and Mike were still sitting, talking to each other. I hoped I had made my point clearly. Personal stories often hit hard when you're trying to make a point, I find. Wish I had caught onto that idea earlier.

"What was that all about?" Louise asked, mask staring at me, "What did the elves want?"

"The end of the days when you can say things like that just because," I smiled back, wagging my finger, "The winds of change are blowin' a hurricane."

Louise was silent the whole way back to my own tent, where we found Julie and Tam waiting.

* * *

The next set of people who came to see me, worried for the future now that we had shown some discernible success, never could have come to me as one group before.

Julie proposed that we go to the hot springs, seeing as I had arrived in the morning and could use a soak. Well, she said I stunk to high hell and needed a wash, but regardless, I had no choice in the matter. Tam had the towels from Earth over her shoulders, showing her own enthusiasm for the idea. Her bathing style was great motivation for me to tag along, all the more so that Julie had taken it up too. So, as I hadn't been intimate for a good while and without my tongue hanging out of my head too much I hope, I agreed.

Yes, I am a dog.

Louise de Villars excused herself, her duties unnecessary now that I was in the presence of Tam. She was generally uncomfortable around our Qunari lover, and I never discovered why, but she most definitely wouldn't have joined us regardless. I thanked her for her understanding earlier, before we left.

The three of us wandered through the camp towards the bridge to the 'Pools of the Sun', where waiting for us were Armen, his usual spotless robes reflecting much of the sunlight around, Barris in his plate armour, and Mother Brandon in her silly hat and long Chantry dress.

Or rather, Grand-Cleric Brandon in her silly hat. Word had come from Val Royeaux with suspect haste that she had been promoted to higher office, informing us that she was responsible for 'the spiritual order of that part of the Dales calling itself Free Orlais'. That part not quite having defined its own borders yet.

The Nightingale's manoeuvres, or perhaps the Divine's own, were well-crafted and insidious. It gave us influence, but influence that was tied to the Chantry, the old order. Power with which we could consolidate our gains, but not what we could have used for more... revolutionary purposes. Or so it appeared Leliana and Justinia believed. Brandon was eagerly spreading zeal for our cause through the Chantry, and our ideals were spreading like wildfire in areas under her authority. Revered Mothers whom opposed Free Orlaisor our war were being transferred or retired, replaced by those who supported it, or at the very least those who would not oppose it as a secular political movement.

Needless to say, my opinion of the Revered Mother had risen in weeks leading up to this meeting.

"Your Grace," I said, after pausing to remember what the proper term of address was, "To what do I owe the pleasure."

"Viceroy, Marquise... Lady Tam," said Brandon, careful to maintain an equally respectful tone to all three of us, "I hoped to speak to you about the role of the Templars, now that we've won."

Taken aback by her optimism, I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. "Now that we've won?" I asked, "The war isn't over yet. What is this about?"

"It seems the Grand-Cleric doesn't want the Templars under my command," Armen smiled, "I _wonder_ why." It would help if you weren't a sarcastic bastard, I thought at him, transmitting the notion by a glare. He got the idea.

"Templars are the soldiers of the Chantry," said Barris, "The Grand-Cleric feels that the realm is overstepping its bounds... though I am comfortable serving under mage command, as long as our role to protect against the Fade isn't undermined."

"Your trust in these mages is commendable, Knight-Commander, but that's precisely my point," replied Brandon, before turning to me, "The Chantry is best equipped to deal with threats of this nature, not the Empire. Best leave it to us."

This was a talk I would have preferred to have happened after we had actually won. We needed the Templars under my direct command, simply because the loyalist mages would undoubtedly show themselves in future to back their noble allies. With all that in mind, I opened my mouth to speak.

"Not going to happen," Julie interrupted cheerfully, "The Templars are soldiers, soldiers aren't clerics. Soldiers are the realm's business, no matter who or what they're fighting." I had no clue why she would object so strongly. I gave her a look, to see if she would explain. She put up her finger, asking me to wait.

"The Templars guarded the Circles independently for centuries," Mother Brandon replied, "They are more than soldiers, they're to defend us against the tide of evil, the swords of the Maker."

"The Maker might want to get himself some new weapons," Tam smirked, leaning over the much smaller priestess, "Swords are fast becoming obsolete."

"Being that is true, I don't see why you would need them either," Brandon continued, swatting at Tam to move away, "The Templars cannot adapt to your new way of war so easily." A pointed look at me came after that. Perhaps she was trying to reassure me that she was no threat even with soldiers under her command, because of the advances we had made. It wasn't that simple.

"Your Grace, the Chantry has been corrupted through its involvement in lowly, worldly affairs. You've said so many times," Julie said firmly, "Isn't that right?"

Probably more than a thousand times, if the few number of sermons I had heard from her after chants were any indication. I doubted her elevation had made her any less circumspect then, and in fact, it encouraged her.

"Yes, Marquise, you are correct," Brandon replied with a whisper of a smile, "I have been saying so since you were fifteen years old, I'm glad that my words have remained with you even now." Julie smiled back. I suppressed a groan, understanding then where the revolutionary zeal had come from.

"If the Chantry has soldiers, it will be drawn into the political affairs of mortals, and it will never be free of corruption," Julie continued, "Leave fighting evil to Sam. The Maker sent him to do just that."

I frowned a little, not particularly pleased that Julie was drawing on that to make her point. I doubt the cleric would have maintained her belief in me if she knew that Tevinter blood magic was involved in bringing people to Thedas, even if God works in mysterious ways.

Brandon nodded into her palm, rubbing her chin as she thought about what had been said. "So, what do you propose?" she said at last, "The Chantry must be able to defend itself."

I saw my chance.

"Any attack against the Chantry will be my responsibility to stop, " I said firmly, "Everyone must be safe to go about their usual business, including the clergy. That's part of the whole point of why we are doing what we are."

"I'm sure the Knight-Commander and I would be happy to help," Armen said, half-truthfully, "If it came to it."

The Revered Mother bent her back, and looked up at the sky for a moment with a sigh.

"You really are tediously energetic," she said at last, "Very well, as long as I am not silenced in affairs of the Maker, I can live with such an arrangement."

"Freedom of expression is a core principle of our movement," Armen said. The Grand-Cleric gave a guffaw, muttering about promoting heresies.

Julie took my hand and pulled me away, bowing as she moved but brooking no further discussion on the matter. It was bath time. We left Armen to handle the bickering, his face turned sullen as he realised it. Barris flashed a quick smirk as he watched the mage be lectured by Brandon. I returned it, and nodded my respect to the Templar.

We made our way to the colossal baths in good spirits, feeling we had dodged a bullet.

* * *

The three giant hotsprings had been divided up.

Two for the commoners and one for the nobles. The smallest for the nobles. A system instituted by those nobles who had stayed behind even after I had dismissed their forces. Hangers-on wanting advancement in other words. Julie had been too busy with getting the home front in order to stop them entirely, but had at least made it clear that racial segregation was off the cards. NCOs and above were allowed into the noble baths, human or otherwise, but when we arrived, the place was empty.

Seems like our officers preferred to bathe with the people. Only reason we didn't was essentially down to our reputations. We were celebrities. The Peacekeeper, the Liberator, the Qunari Teacher. Privacy would have been hard to find among the off-duty soldiers, and we wanted it at that moment.

We climbed the long ramp around the pool and settled into the warm water in the mid-afternoon sun. I sat in rolled up military fatigues and no shirt, sunglasses on and a flask of some of Leha's good stuff in-hand. Julie more or less followed suit, leaning back with her feet in the watter, scribbling away casually with a pencil and a stack of paper. Tam wore nothing and sunned herself, preferring the warmth soak in.

To my complete lack of surprise, most of the nobles followed Tam's lead, given that there were no commoners around and modesty wasn't Orlesian in the slightest. I had to spend most of my time looking up at the sky or at Tam or Julie. The women weren't the only ones in the nude. I probably would have paid more heed to the looks tossed our way. Mostly Tam's way, I had to admit. I was just glad to be sitting still and not on a horse.

So it went for an hour or so.

Slowly, the bath filled up with more and more children of all things, noble kids and the children of servants they had befriended if I was any judge. There were no adult elves, but a number of elven children. Noble ladies often encouraged such friendships, so that their children would have reliable commoners to depend upon in the Game later in life. Or so Armen informed me once, having had a similar experience in his own childhood.

Julie cursed to herself, catching my attention for something other than my own admiration for her.

"What are you up to?" I asked casually, "You've been writing for a while now. Anything interesting?"

Julie flashed her smile at me, and held up what she had been working on. It was a very accurate drawing of myself, fully uniformed and pointing out from the page at the viewer. Underneath, it said "Uncle Sam Wants You for the Free Army." In Orlesian, no less.

I narrowed my eyes at my lover.

"Really," I said flatly, "Couldn't come up with something original then?"

"If it can work on Earth, it can work on Thedas," Julie insisted, "Besides, it's not for soldiers only, it's for the corvée too. Roads, factories, smithing, supplies, that sort of thing." She blew a fatigued breath out through her lips.

"You're organising that already too?" I asked.

"Of course she is," said Tam, "She wouldn't let herself rest while you were out there fighting." Not that Tam had either, seeing as she had supervised the political education of the people of Sahrnia as well as breaking in the new noble recruits sent to us from the Emerald Graves.

"I still think it's a good idea," Julie declared, "It's not like I made you look ugly."

I grunted my agreement with that. At the very least, it was a good likeness, not overcompensated by ignoring the dent in the bridge of my nose. It was just... accurate. Julie probably drew it entirely from memory. I felt very average when I was with Julie and Tam sometimes, albeit drawn to them in awe of their personalities.

"That's a good drawing," came a confident and youthful voice from behind me, "Can you draw me too?"

Surprised by the interruption, I turned back to face the pool, and found two children directly beside me. A boy and a girl, the former older than the latter, both dressed in red jumpsuits. They were nobles, clearly. The boy was the one who had spoken, his hands on his hips. I searched my mind for a moment, but eventually I drew a blank on who they were.

"Of course!" Julie replied, "It would be my pleasure."

"Draw me as a chevalier," the boy demanded, "My sister too."

The sister nodded rapidly, smiling at the very notion of being a dashing knight. The innocence of children almost seems exacerbated when they are noble.

"Like your father?" Julie said, "Of course I can draw you like that."

And it clicked. I had met these kids before, just never without their masks on. They were Antoine and Océane des Arbes. Pierre and Cécile's children. I noticed the grey eyes they shared with their father, confirming the fact in absolute terms. That they knew Julie shouldn't have been a surprise, yet I felt a strong jealousy clutch my chest like a vice regardless. Petty of me, I know.

"Good," replied the boy firmly, sitting down to be sketched.

"Thank you," the girl added, standing beside her brother, "Make sure you put flowers on my shield."

Julie nodded, taking a fresh page from her pack. Tam and I exchanged glances, but without anything to do, we went back to what we were doing with a shared shrug. The splashing sounds of others moving about the bath were augmented with humming and the scratching of lead on paper, as our lover drew the kids. Antoine stayed bolt still for most of it, reckoning that he was easier to draw that way, but Océane kept glancing at me and fidgeting. She was looking at my back specifically, most likely because of the tattoos. I turned my back towards her, so she could see a little better and I wouldn't be able to see her. I think she stopped fidgeting.

The father soon made an appearance. He was thankfully outfitted in a similar red jumpsuit to his children, albeit rolled down to the waist and up past the thighs. That was as much of him as I could have seen without snapping, I think. He was more … soft than I was, but not by much. Then again, he didn't do the exercise that I did, even he did have the diet.

"Ah, children, this is where you have gotten to," said the Baron, "Visiting the Marquis and Marquise." Ignoring Tam as best he could, which was wisdom on his part.

"Getting a picture," Antoine replied, pointing at Julie, "She drew him and now she's drawing us."

"I'm a chevalier," chirped Océane, "Just like he is!"

"Ah ha, I see," said the Baron with a smirk, "As long as Julie does not mind..."

"Not at all," Julie replied, "I need a break from the work."

The Baron couldn't help but take that as a cue, to my annoyance. Still, I couldn't tell him to piss off without insulting Julie's intelligence, and I wasn't capable of doing it diplomatically enough to avoid upsetting the children. I bit my tongue and listened instead.

"Yes, how is that going?" he asked, "I hear you are recruiting all over now, work orders sent out..."

"Everything is going according to plan," Julie replied softly.

"So it appears," said the Baron, wading closer, "But according to whose plan?"

Julie stopped drawing for a brief moment. "What do you mean?"

The Baron stared at her. "The days where you three can make decisions for everyone are coming to an end," he said, "Especially since you are now raising the commons in their lands."

I jumped up. "Is that a threat?" I asked in jest, "And we were just beginning to get along."

"It's a warning," the Baron replied, not even looking at me, "From a friend. Julie, you yourself warn of the dangers of absolute power. Some arrangement must be made for the permanent new order here." The bastard was right about that, and I couldn't help but relax.

"There's no need to fret, dear Baron," Tam said from the side, "She has already been making arrangements." I cocked an eyebrow towards Julie, as if to ask if that was true.

"Since winter began to let up," Julie confirmed, "I was to send the messages to the nobles once we returned to Hearth, but since you are so insistent..."

"Messages for what?" the Baron asked.

"A grand ball and convention, to be held in Hearth. The commoners have been choosing their representatives since the beginning of spring," said Julie, continuing to draw, "Together, we will decide what shape the future will take."

I had suspected that was the case, but knowing that politics was best left to Julie and Armen, I hadn't pried too much. No need for a new set of disagreements like those over the weapons, particularly when I wasn't the expert this time.

Hearing the plan spoken openly was entirely a different thing. The hairs on my neck stood briefly on end. It was risky. Incredibly risky. It was effectively declaring independence, without saying as much. Yet, it was the only way. Otherwise, we'd be fighting Baroness Doucy and Baron Clouet very quickly, neither of whom wanted to trade one absolute monarch for another dressed up as a viceroy. The risk of annoying the Empress or provoking Gaspard by holding the convention was trumped by the risk of either or both of them joining forces with disgruntled nobles. The Chantry would have no choice but to condemn us at that point too.

That wasn't even the worst case scenario. We couldn't yet dream of the worst case scenario, not yet.

The Baron's eyes widened, before narrowing in what I can only describe as glee. He was realising the glittering opportunity Julie's plan represented for his family, as far as I can tell from his actions in the coming weeks. At the time, it looked like he accepted it happily and little else, of course.

Julie showed the finished product to Antoine and Océane, a picture of them standing together in plate armour, swords in their hands. Océane even got her flower-etched shield, as promised. She called her father over and waved the picture.

Pierre des Arbes picked his daughter up.

"Well, you appear to have thought of everything," he said, with a wave of his hand, "We can speak later."

The Baron wandered off and his son followed, the kids waving goodbye to us. They were good kids. They knew not to interrupt the adults. Julie and Tam waved back at them.

* * *

Feeling the exhaustion of the campaign acutely now, I lay on my back and used my hands as a pillow, closing my eyes. I felt like the sun was stripping me of the fatigue, though my mind continued to tick over.

"That's the third set now. Mike and Soprano came at me earlier about whether or not I was going to throw elves under the bus for the victory," I said, ignoring my lovers' lack of understanding of the idiom, "People asking about the future, and what we're going to do for them..."

"There'll be more of them before this is over," Julie said, retrieving yet another piece of paper, "Stoke people's hopes, and eventually they'll want to know just how far you're willing to go." Indeed there would be. Far more.

"Or whether or not you'll protect them from the rising tide," Tam added, "The nobles have a lot to lose." She rolled onto her stomach, paying full attention to us now.

"And a lot to gain, if they stay in line," Julie replied grimly.

"I guess we're going to find out," I said, "Though it does raise another question. One I don't think we've thought about."

"What's that?" Julie asked.

"What is our future going to look like?" I asked, "Everyone else seems to think we have won already, do we dare to make plans?"

We remained silent for a few minutes, contemplating just that question. Once, when we weren't aware of the truth, we dreamed of returning to Earth. I would show Julie and Tam the wonders of Earth, they would escape the tyranny and primitivism of Thedas, and we'd live happily ever after. That dream was long dead. Its replacement, using the embers I had brought from home to create a new light there in Orlais, was great in theory. It was just... impersonal.

"Freedom comes first," said Julie at last, "But we've built something here, something all the chevaliers of the Grand-Duke and Empress might not be able to destroy. I think we can start thinking about ourselves, just a little."

"Okay then," I said in a challenging tone, "What do you want to do, once it's all over? Neither of you say 'make a great big pile of gold', that's Leha's dream."

"Can I say 'destroy our enemies'?" Julie joked.

"No," I replied, "If we have to do that, then it isn't over, is it?"

Julie pondered for a moment, before spotting something in the sky. I craned my neck to see, and saw what she was looking at.

"I want to fly," Julie said at last, with fond eyes on what she was watching before adding, "With a machine I design myself."

I laughed and gave her nearby leg a kiss. A noble goal, one very worthy of Julie's talents, and one with glorious consequences. Given her excitement at seeing the helicopter all those months ago, I was hardly surprised. The things above us at that moment were eagles, of course. The same eagles that had perched themselves on her warhammer during battle. The damned things would follow us everywhere from Sahrnia onwards, through the best and worst days.

"What about you Tam?" I asked, "I wish I could have got you out of reach of the Qun, but that seems impossible now. Unless you want to go explore the West or something." Which is exceedingly hard to do, by the way.

The Qunari shook her head. "It was not to be," she said, "You have taught me that the Qun can be defeated, both in spirit and in body, if good people come together. And you are two of the best. I'm not afraid of the Qun any more, and I have you two to thank for it."

I tilted my head in half-agreement, not quite sure our little kingdom matched up to one of Thedas' superpowers, even if we had foiled one of their plots. "So what will you do when this war is over?" I asked, opening up my flask for a swig.

"I have worked since I was twelve years old for one purpose; to serve everyone else," said Tam, "So, I think I shall concentrate on my own happiness." Greatly approving of such an idea, I raised my flask in salute.

"Good girl," I said, "Exactly what I'd do, if I was any good at that. What's your plan exactly?" I began drinking, awaiting the answer.

"I think I'll have some children," Tam replied. Coughing and spluttering, I sat up again sharply, nearly drowning in Leha's fine batch of apple vodka.

What a thing to say! Some of my wits returned, allowing me to look over at Tam. I found her eyeing me speculatively, her head resting on her hands. Violet irises locked onto me like a god damn heat-seeker. What a sight! I felt dazed, as if I had been punched or as if I had been at the hooch for a lot longer than I had been.

"That doesn't sound like you're concentrating on your own happiness at all!" I complained, pointing at her shakily. That was quite unfair of me, admittedly.

"We are not allowed families in the Qun, remember?" said Tam in return, "I have seen the happiness that it brings in others. At the end of every day I teach the children. I want that. I _will_ have that."

I was speechless. It's not like I could have told her to go find someone else. I was in too deep for that. Seeing her with someone else would have broken my heart. I'm pretty greedy, I guess. So, my thoughts wandered to a scene of Tam holding our child. It was strangely serene and terrifying at the same time.

Julie, the rascal, did not make things any better. "You probably won't have to wait until the war is over for that anyway," she shrugged, "We're down to one of _those things_ anyway." Carefully screening her own feelings on the matter, one will note. She rummaged around her bag, and pulled out the last of the unopened plastic wrappers. I kneaded my palm. The days of not worrying about that sort of thing had come to an end at a really inconvenient time.

I coughed again, clearing the last of the drink out of my throat. "There are other things, right?" I asked, overly politely.

"There are teas, and mages can do something if you're further along," Julie confirmed, "But they're both more dangerous." I cursed under my breath, and lay on my back again. Nothing I could do about it. Well, other than saying fuck it and ignoring the consequences, but the consequences were lifelong. Even if they had the potential to be massively positive. Honestly, in retrospect, I shouldn't have been so worried.

The relevance of all this would be become very apparent when the winter came. Thankfully not to me personally. No, that would come a few years later. At an equally inopportune time, with surprising consequences. Tiberius didn't have the full story, apparently.

"What about you, Sam?" Tam asked softly, "What will you do when this is over?"

"Other than die of a heart attack, you mean?!" I asked sarcastically. Both Tam and Julie had a good giggle at my expense, giving me a little time to think about an actual answer.

"I'll continue to be a soldier," I replied, "I tried to be a civilian once. I fucking sucked at it." Well, that's not strictly true. I enjoyed college, but I wasn't an academic either. Not back then, anyway. I just found a regular job so mind numbing that I had to find the first ticket back to soldiering I could. Being in the US Army Reserve, I put myself in for duty again soon after. Just as the UN decided the situation in the Middle East had to be resolved. Could've become a merc.

"I've got the taste for fighting now, can't shake it off," I continued, "Like it too much to stop."

Tam slid down the steps and took my head onto her lap. Shading my face with a wave of long blonde hair. "You're more than that," she said with complete certainty.

"We'll see," I replied, very much doubting her.

It would be many, many years before I was anything else, but she was right, in the end.

* * *

 _AUTHOR'S NOTE: So, we hit the 200 favourites, 250 followers mark just yesterday. Very pleased to say the least, so I thought I'd get a release out for this despite my concentration on BF2183. As always, there will be a rolling edit for mistakes on it later._

 _Five more chapters in this "Revolution" volume left, then we're onto Ferelden. This chapter sets them all up, as well as a few for the next volume and even one or two for future volumes._

 _Minor spoiler alert: Ciara's a big part of the next chapter, in case you were wondering where she was in this one._

 _ **5 Coloured Walker:**_ _I'm tempted to ask you to beta for me, if I wasn't rather distrustful of that entire process out of simple unfamiliarity. You're a wonderful reviewer, I'm always glad to hear from you._

 _ **Drgyen:**_ _Expect to see more gunpowder action, to say the least._

 _Tiberius wasn't giving away all the secrets, merely promoting Sam's cause. Remember, he believes that Julie and Armen's revolution will fail, and all the help he gives Sam will simply prove the point that little bit more. The aim is to utterly crush any notion that they have a choice other than to come to Tevinter. That means giving Sam the best chance at winning possible, betting that a defeat is inevitable._

 _For future reference, the Inquisitor is a female rogue Trevelyan, Hawke is a female warrior (think Bravosi from GoT), and the Warden is the aforementioned Aedan Cousland mage (sort of a crossover between the mage and noble human origins)._

 _Nothing wrong with being a die hard union worker, but there is something wrong with rehabilitating Cromwell in my eyes. But as my name probably suggests, I'm biased in that regard._

 _ **Max22193:**_ _Cheers!_

 _ **In Defilade:**_ _It doesn't go all their way at all. Flint is an interesting person, though I'm finding that a good part of the books are history or pseudohistory dumps. Might just be the anthologies._

 _ **Tactus501st:**_ _High praise indeed!_

 _ **Isaac Smalls:**_ _It'll be a while yet before we get to the conclave, though the lead up to Inquisition will start before then. And yep, tantalising was the objective. I've even set up the next story for when they get around to the next DA game, which is supposed to be set in the Tevinter Imperium, if the last bit of Trespasser was any indicator._

 _With regards to the lore, I couldn't remember the name of the damned river for the life of me, it was driving me crazy, so I just rolled with the name of the peak. Though I like your retcon idea, and it fits very well with the next chapter, so it'll go in._

 _As for Leha's nightmares, I wrote that part, remembered that dwarves didn't dream, went back and edited in a remark about her appearance being sleepless. That is a dwarven nightmare to my mind; being tortured by your thoughts so you can't sleep. I could have edited the whole part into something different, but the scene wasn't really the place to get technical about dwarva and the Fade, at least in my opinion._

 _All rambling is appreciated._

 _ **Guest:**_ _It's still a pretty small army, though as this chapter implies, the number of soldiers with firelances is going to go through the roof. Expect to see plenty more of it._

 _ **Jarjaxle:**_ _Welcome back to the party. Looks like you've blown one of my Chekhov's guns._

 _Yes, Leha is the female dwarf inquisitor. Or would have been. Evidently she won't be from now on._

 _I would complain that it's not a harem start, but it's sorta going that way. More of a deconstruction, I hope, than one played straight._

 _You're entirely right in saying that Par Vollen are not going to let this fly, though the Chantry don't exactly have the cajones to take the tech off Sam & Co just yet. As this chapter shows, they're playing a different game to get what they want._

 _Freemen of the Dales will be involved actually, but no, Julie will not be the leader of the Freemen._

 _ **Suna Chunin:**_ _Glad you liked the battle scene. I was actually a little worried about it after I wrote it._


	29. Chapter 29: Vox Populi, Vox Dei

**Chapter Twenty-Nine: Vox Populi, Vox Dei**

The name of this chapter is a term in Latin and Ancient Tevene, and it is the fundamental basis of our nation and our universal mission. It means 'the voice of the people is the voice of God'. It means that no matter how many monarchs, how many nobles, how many rich men or how many experts lay their opinion, the last word is always that of the common people. Mages, aristocrats, merchants... they all live and die at the whim of the commoner, whether that of farmers and their food prices, disciplined citizen-soldiers and their force of arms, or the mob at a polling booth or in a riot.

Only by destroying society itself can any 'greater' person gain complete power without the consent of the governed. There will always be lines that the powerful cannot cross. Of course, this problem hasn't stopped the ambitious from trying. The example of the ancient elven empire is first in my mind when I think of this phrase. For so long regarded as a beacon of civilisation but now exposed as a magical tyranny that makes old Tevinter look like an Athenian democracy, it still had its rebels, whom brought their nation low enough for Tiberia and her ilk to usurp its place.

How is this relevant to my story?

At the beginning of July in the Thirty-Nineth year of the Dragon Age, a year to the day since my arrival and on the day of my homeland's declaration of independence, the Grand Convention of the Dales was in session in Hearth. It began a few days earlier with a ball to toast our great success, and continued afterwards to decide upon the fate of our new joint enterprise. I was looking forward to it immensely. The burden of command had been placed on my shoulders for too long I thought, and it was time for someone more willing to take my place. Namely Julie, who would in fact get her wish at long last.

That the voice of the people is the voice of God is a principle we believed in was taken as a given. On the fourth day of the convention, news from the north would arrive that would shake the very foundations of our entire project. The people would make a demand, no less terrible than if the Maker himself had commanded it. To refuse it would have meant destroying the new society we were in the process of bringing into the world. All our dreams of a peaceful life would have been gone.

And yet, in accepting the will of the Maker as spoken by the people, we made our greatest blunder.

* * *

We returned to Hearth from the Emprise in triumph, marching over the bridge with new weapons and uniforms through the eastern gate as the band played _Scotland the Brave_. The crowds followed us all the way from there, through the town square, out the southern gate and to L'Ambassade, where the families of most of our soldiers were waiting. The party that followed was truly something, completely wanton abandon of morals in favour of jubilation and celebration. Particularly among the elves and mages, who moved among the crowd as equals to humans in a way they hadn't before. My memories of the following few days are a complete haze, and I can only recall that we drank the town dry. The result six to nine months later is a memory that comes back to me much more clearly, and not for good reasons.

Many of the commoners' representatives were already present, and the nobles began to arrive too. It took a week to organise the Baron's palace as the meeting place of the Grand Convention of Free Orlais. It seemed that every tavern and bar was hosting some political meeting or another, as the representatives felt out the opinions of their fellows. Pierre's guards had to break up a fight or two as alcohol and politics mixed freely. With little else to do between lessons with the precocious Lana and arranging weapons practice, McNulty, Armen and I took to touring the streets, betting which meeting would descend into a brawl and who'd win if they did. That was a good bit of fun, at least until Armen started using magic to cheat.

Julie and Ciara disappeared into the same taverns and bars until the evening times for a reason that will become apparent, often times with Leha alongside. As the author of _Le Sens Commun_ and a Dalish elf who had been in the middle of events from the beginning, their opinions held great sway and they worked hard to promote a fundamental set of values around which the commoners were rallying. The brawls usually happened when people disagreed about what should happen now that everyone agreed on those values. Or when Armen moved chairs from under people from a distance, leading them to believe opposing speakers responsible. That damned grin never moved from his face. He might have been one of the most intelligent persons I had ever met, but he was still a cocky young bastard at that time too.

Tam on the other hand was with a new set of people. She was very glad to be back to schooling the boys and girls. Despite her ferocity, she was not a soldier at heart. Her duties had now expanded to setting up Latin letter education to teenagers from noble and merchant families from all over our part of the Dales. In this, she applied her usual combination of stern discipline, kindness and patience. The results varied. Given that most of the people who had been volunteered were essentially hostages, I was quite impressed at how quickly she turned out useful civil servants. Their existing educations meant they knew basic administration and book-keeping. The beginnings of a real government bureaucracy, with all its uses and abuses, was taking shape.

Leha was certainly pleased anyway. After all, she had shouldered almost all of that burden before.

The week passed quickly.

I found myself in the closest approximation to a suit that I owned, in Baron and Baronness des Arbes' large ballroom. It was much like our ballrooms. Well varnished hardwood, painted walls in the red of the Des Arbes family, huge numbers of well-scented candles on the walls and on chandeliers, and a small army of highly dedicated servants.

Tam, Leha and Armen were with me, glasses of sparkling wine in hand, although only Leha was drinking it. They too were turned out in their best clothing. A form-fitting low-cut black dress for Tam, which drew lustful eyes with complete ease, including my own. Leha had a strange set of maroon robes with a lot of brown leather components hanging off of it, which had a story behind it that I did not yet know. Armen had actually changed from his usual mage's robes, wearing a set in a deep blue colour with red lining. So we all stood, waiting for the others, talking nonsense. I would have enjoyed myself a little more, if it wasn't for the cavalcade.

All the nobles with a right to be there and all the commoners who had been chosen to represent their people were present, along with various hangers on. Every single one of them entered and was announced something like this; "Francis de Sables, esquire, representative of Villeurbanne!" The seneschal was going completely overboard. Worse, every single guest approached our little group and bowed to me, usually with a "My lord" or "Honoured Viceroy" followed by a platitude.

I simply raised my glass in salute to each of them, which they accepted gracefully. The only ones who didn't participate in this were the des Arbes themselves, thank the Maker. Even Louise curtsied, which was just too weird, though I suspect that if I had not seen her in a dress before it would have been jawdropping. Eventually, after two hundred such entrances, the throng died down and I got a moment to breath. It couldn't have come too soon.

"Any of you know if I've been doing this right?" I asked the group, massaging the well-used wrist attached to the hand holding my drink. It had begun to occur to me that insulting people by accident might not be to the best opening to what was the Dales' version of the Continental Congress.

Tam turned to me with bright eyes. "Do you care?" she asked through a smirk, "If you really cared, you would have practised the correct way for hours." Military habits don't die, and one thing you get used to in the army is repetition.

"You're not wrong," I replied, "No one seems to be ticked off, so I guess they're letting it fly." Truth was that it was acceptable, albeit the bare minimum.

Leha snorted, shaking her head. Wondering what the hell I had said to get that response, I eyed her with raised eyebrows. She tilted her head right back, like I should know.

"Always the false modesty," the dwarf said with a wave of her hand, "Of course it hadn't occurred to you that you're important enough to make things up as you go along, and have that accepted as absolutely proper." Which was true. I hadn't considered that.

"How would you know that?" Armen said quickly, not looking at any of us, "Are we going to get a life tale from Leha Cadas at last?"

"Never," Leha said immediately, before taking a large gulp of her wine.

"Good, because I couldn't stomach your lying," replied Armen sharply, "It is something like how the Marquis DuRellion and our Qunari friends felt when they were brought in." They had largely not enjoyed the experience of being paraded in front of me, and expressed this mostly by glaring daggers. I gave them the same champagne glass salute that everyone else received. After all, I was on top. I had nothing to fear.

Reminded of our guests, my eyes flickered over to the corner. They looked no worse for wear in their captivity, which was unsurprising in DuRellion's case at least. He had simply taken up residence with the Baron, and the pair were drinking and speaking to each other apart from the real prisoners. Masks on, of course, just like everyone else save for ourselves. I have to admit that I narrowed my eyes at that sight. I had little doubt that the Marquis was relaying information back to the Empress, and I was right about that.

The Viddasala and Tallis on the other hand had spent their entire time between their capture and that night in a dungeon cell. It was satisfying to see that they didn't look underfed. I had left specific orders that they were not to be starved. Prison does funny things to people, so I had expected some level of degradation or even despair. Yet they seemed entirely unperturbed. Neither were dirty or thin, and both were wearing better-than-decent formal dresses in a shade of light purple. Yet another imposition for the display, of course. The only thing that marked them out from anyone else was the bright silverite chains around their wrists.

Tallis seemed to be flirting with one of her guards, at least. The young elf from the Free Army seemed to be enjoying that. Meanwhile, the Viddasala stared over at us, ignoring her subordinate. Tam was the main target of her attention, but I got a glance or two as well.

I leaned over to Tam, bringing myself closer to her. "Do you think I should have left the Viddasala in the dungeon?" I said quietly, "She looks like she might try something."

Tam's violet eyes peered back at me for a second, before moving to frame the prisoners. Both Tallis and her boss flinched. Understanding that Tallis must have been keeping tabs on us out of the corner of her eye, I crossed my arms and turned towards them. The attempt to resume what they were doing beforehand failed. Tallis' flirting became less enthusiastic, and the Viddasala looked up at the ceiling.

"Come on," Tam said, taking my arm, "We must speak to them." I nodded, and together we swept across the ballroom floor. People made way with great haste, bowing or curtsying aside. Felt a bit like Moses, I said to myself in amusement. I had to restrain myself further when we actually reached the prisoners' corner.

The Baron pulled DuRellion out of the way quickly, making his own path to another part of the room, leaving the Qunari and the guards. The elf that Tallis had been honeypotting immediately fixed his face from a dreamy, lustful smile to a stern, attentive look. The thought that I myself probably looked a lot like that when speaking to Tam and Julie did occur.

"At ease, private," I said to the guy, before he clenched his cheeks too hard and hurt himself. It had the desired effect. I looked back, and found Tam and the Viddasala locked in a staring competition. Tam was smaller by more than a few inches, but I wouldn't have bet against her even without the chains. Neither were trained in the _antaam_ , so it would have been a dirty fight regardless. Tam's arm tightened around mine. So, no chance of breaking that deadlock.

"Tallis," I continued, addressing the more sane of the two prisoners, "How are you finding the party? Glad to be out of the basement for once, I would imagine."

"Don't think I appreciate the jewellery your seamstress gave us," Tallis quipped, holding up her chained wrists, "She was an ugly one too, no respect." The assassin shook the chains a little, as if that would add to her point.

"That's because she is a he named Robert, and he's a jailer, not a jeweller," I replied flatly, "Still, if you're making jokes, you must be in a good mood."

"This joke of a gathering is more than enough to put me in a good mood," Tallis replied, "The Qun has everything to gain from a divided Orlais. The South will crumble in its corruption, its Chantry will crumble, and our way will triumph. You are making your own doom."

I frowned at the woman. It didn't sound like she was entirely convinced herself. "Good, because I have news for you," I said, "I was hoping to wait to tell you later, but there's no point in waiting. I plan to release you. With the Convention's blessing, of course."

The Viddasala's head swivelled to me like a shot, widening red eyes meeting mine. "What?" she said in a deep and rough tone, "Why?" I didn't understand for a moment that she was terrified, but that only made me enjoy the moment.

"I want you to see and understand everything we are doing here," I said, "It is too late for you. What I know is already in the hands of people who will use that knowledge to destroy everything you stand for. Your mission has failed. Tevinter has already made contact. If you come for me again, I will give everything to the Vints."

"If the Qun comes for you again, basra vashedan, it will be with armies," Tallis warned, "The magisters will not save you."

"I don't think I'm worth risking an Exalted March for, and besides, by the time your army gets here, my army will be able to beat any other in Thedas," I replied, drawing on my lessons with Lana for the knowledge, "What do you think, Viddasala? Care to bet on your chances against ten thousand hardened veterans with gaatlok weapons?"

The Viddasala said nothing. She was staring at the ground and biting her lip, shaking her head from side to side ever so slightly. My satisfaction at verbally sparring with Tallis disappeared in an instant, replaced by recoiling shock. Nothing had been able to break the woman over the course of the entire time she had been imprisoned. She had said literally nothing to anyone but Tallis. Now she was shaking like a leaf. I looked to Tam for an explanation, and found her vicious smile.

"She knows what will happen when she returns a failure," Tam said slowly, "She was one of the three leaders of the Ben Hassrath. Failure is not an option. Her mind will be destroyed with qamek."

"Like the mage?" I asked. The mage who had begged Tam for her freedom. The mage that had her memories and personality wiped. The mage that haunted Tam's dreams, occasionally.

"Just like that," Tam replied, her smile dying. The idea wasn't as satisfying as she had first thought, and I couldn't help but agree. I could hardly rage against Templars for their use and abuse of Tranquility, and remain quiet here.

"Then I cannot in good conscience release you, Viddasala," I said, "Like I said, I want you to see what we are doing here. I think you'll see that it is better than the Qun."

The Viddasala seemed to quiver for a moment, as the indoctrination of her people and my mercy fought a battle in her head. I didn't doubt what would win out in the end, but for the moment, I had given her no reason to fail to doubt. Tallis remained deathly quiet, seemingly disturbed at what I had done to her fellow follower of the Qun. Neither spoke.

We left them, our mood somewhat soured.

Our return found us listening to Armen and Leha, who were in the midst of a debate about which was the better game, Wicked Grace or Diamondback. The mage greatly favoured Wicked Grace, because it was universal and required great deception. Leha preferred diamondback, because it was a game for the commoners only and didn't require someone to be a backstabbing 'whoreson'. This is pretty ironic in hindsight, but at the time, we still didn't know much about Leha. Well, everyone except Julie.

The argument went on without any contribution by Tam or I, and ended when a group of stragglers showed up. Just to screw with the audience, I saluted these ones. To my great bemusement, a wave of murmurs went around like a Mexican wave.

The seneschal rang a bell, and nodded to the Baron's band, who had been playing light dance music (or what Orlais thinks is dance music). The players immediately ceased, stooping to pick up some sheets of paper. I chuckled, and shook my head. Tam noticed immediately.

"What's so funny?" she asked.

"She always has to make an entrance," I replied. Tam began smirking again, to my relief. Any hint of talk about qamek or the Qun usually sent her into a bad mood for days afterwards.

Right on time, the seneschal raised his hand for silence, even though he pretty much already had it.

" _Mesdames et messieurs,_ " he proclaimed, "The High Chancellor and Vice-Chancellor of Free Orlais!"

The band struck up _Hail to the Chief_ as soon as the hand for silence had been dropped, and in walked the first popularly elected leaders in the history of Thedas. Albeit that neither had actually faced competition for the posts, and they were elected indirectly.

Julie was wearing her deep-blue and red dress with the Orlesian style skirt, its edges now lined with gold thread. Her face covered with her half-mask in the same colours, with the addition of more eagle feathers along one side. Her hair wasn't tied back like the nobles though, falling onto her shoulder on the side opposite the feathers. A self confident smile on her face as she walked with long steps into the the ballroom.

Behind her was Ciara, in jaw-dropping new form. Dressed in a dress cut that would make Tam blush, in rich green silk with red lining, the front skirt restrained like Tam's, the back expanded out like a fan. Her blonde hair was tied back, and she had pearl earrings hanging off her very exposed ears. She had to make more steps in order to keep up with Julie, who was quite tall after all, but seemed to glide rather than walk all the same.

The pair stopped in the middle of the ballroom floor. Julie with a hand on her hip, Ciara with her two hands held together in front of her. As one, every common man bowed and every common woman curtsied, and repeated the same words.

" _Vive la Haute-Chancelière! Vive la Vice-Chancelière!"_

" _Vive l'Orlais Libre!"_ Julie replied in a raucous, terribly pleased tone. The room parroted it, and I half expected her to raise her fist in the air. Instead, the pair walked on towards the other party-goers.

I was compelled by my nature to hum my satisfaction at Julie's appearance, and exchanged a glance with Tam that confirmed that she was pretty damn happy about it too. Armen was agape, a very comical look on someone who usually had more self control over what he was expressing at any given time. The odd one out was Leha.

"By the Stone, we're giving our fortune away to the dressmakers," the dwarf muttered, "We could have bought a hundred uniforms for the price of those two dresses." For someone who had lived in Orlais, she never really understood that such things were absolutely necessary expenses. It was a statement of power as much as anything else. Of course, three of us didn't care about that, we were just happy to see our lovers looked so well turned out.

"Shut up, Leha," Tam and I said simultaneously.

The scoff that came in return woke Armen up, and he gave Leha a nudge of his own as his customary grin returned.

Julie and Ciara received greetings from the lords and ladies, most notably Lady Doucy and Lord Clouet. Neither seemed one bit bothered at having to treat an elf as an equal. The de Villars seemed more happy though, it has to be said. Louise always had greater respect for the Dalish, as they are warriors by nature not peasants, and she had absolutely no problem showing deference to Ciara. By the time our commanders and the Grand-Cleric were being greeted, I was getting impatient.

They finally arrived after teasing Pierre and DuRellion, Julie making the former to bow to Ciara. What humiliation for a person of such high rank. The floor filled up again once they were done, and the dance music resumed in a more rapid tempo. The formalities had been observed, it was socialising time.

"Wow," I said, "I'm not sure if I'm thinking of ways to tear off the clothes or simply move them enough to..."

"Yeah, we get the point, loverboy," Leha interrupted, "Tam, put your tongue back in your mouth."

"Drunken dwarf," Tam complained.

"Sex-addled qunari," Leha snorted back, "Shall we continue?"

"Please, don't," Julie frowned, taking a glass from a hovering servant, "I command you."

"Giving out commands already?" Leha continued, "I guess you'll need the practice."

"I think I'll need the practice," Ciara added, "I don't think I'm ready."

"What do you mean?" asked Armen, "If people believed that, someone else would have stood against you. You're more than capable."

"They chose me because I am the nearest elf next to Julie and Sam," Ciara replied, folding her arms, "Well, the nearest who isn't a mage. They think I can leverage our friendship to make sure they're not forgotten."

"Can't you?" Julie asked, "It's not like I could have chosen a human for the position anyway, it might as well be someone I trust."

"Or a dwarf," added Leha, "Every six in ten commoners in our little kingdom are elves, whereas there is maybe one dwarf for every hundred elves, most of them damned worthless."

Ciara didn't seem reassured, and I felt the overpowering urge to help her. After all, she and I shared one thing in common; we had been put in a position of great power and influence more or less against our will, for the love of our companions.

"All you have to do is speak the truth as you understand it," I said to Ciara, "Leave the manoeuvres and backroom backstabbings to Julie, leave the military crap to me, leave the money to Leha, leave the magic politics to Armen, leave the future to Tam. You'll be our conscience. I know you haven't really cared for this whole thing much until now, but it's time for you to get into this."

"Sahrnia changed everything," Ciara nodded, "You're right. I have been too quiet. I have to do this."

"And you will," Tam said approvingly, before sipping on her wine. We all took that as a cue to toast quickly, and drank deeply in salute of Ciara's determination. Even Leha, toasting her future profits.

"Now, I think I will dance with the new vice-chancellor," said Armen, holding out his hand to Ciara, "If she will have me."

"She will," smirked Ciara, as she handed her half-full glass to Leha. Armen led her off into the throng of dancers, before putting one hand around her waist and the other threaded with hers. Together, they joined the sweeping motions of the dance in progress as if it was natural. Armen's education in Val Royeaux obviously consisted of more than learning to summon great amounts of fire, I remember thinking. He was certainly more cultured than I was. Ciara simply had excellent reflexes and coordination.

We all stayed for another three hours.

I danced with Tam, Julie, Cécile des Arbes, Louise de Villars and Soprano, in that order. I even offered to dance with Tallis, but she refused the jest in good spirits. Still, quite a surreal experience to dance with someone who once tried to have you executed and your bodyguard, all in front of your lovers... plural. I'm quite sure if I told someone from back home, they would think it was the start to a bad joke. Apart from dancing and drinking, of which there was plenty, I tried to take the pulse of the evening and what was going to happen over the next few days.

Everyone seemed very confident. The nobles were positively salivating over being granted lands from the lords we had defeated or killed, even though the new government would be taking the lions' share to fund itself. The commoners were even more militant, though their talk remained of 'consolidating the revolution' in the Dales rather than of any grand military adventures. The mages were the most conservative, speaking about transferring in more of their kind from other Circles and floating ideas about preserving what had already been won.

The night ended when Julie suddenly took Tam's hand, and began to pull her away outside. Naturally, I followed, knowing from experience where that was going. Julie stopped and held up a finger for me to stay. "Sorry Sam," she said, "It's a dangerous day."

I sighed my disappointment, but let them go with a kiss each. No reason for either of them to miss out. I was deep in thought when I nearly jumped out of my skin. Ciara and Armen approached from behind, as they said their goodbyes and left.

Leaving Leha alone with me. Slurping away at her drink. Damned iron stomach, she could have drunk even my old Army buddies under the table. Well, most of them. Witty bitch too.

"You should find someone else for tonight. Pretty sure that 'Soprano' or the stuck up chevalier would be game, if you're looking," she joked, "Getting all pent up at such a crucial moment might be dangerous."

"Are you offering?" I asked flatly, "There are rooms upstairs."

"Ha!"

* * *

The Convention began the next afternoon. The actual debating had happened long before this point. Most of the people involved already knew what their positions were, and what compromises would have to be made. It was a case of voting to see which ones would win out. Although I was still Viceroy and so the Empress' representative, I wasn't allowed into the Baron's residence during the sessions. I declared the the whole thing open and was promptly escorted out by Ciara, who found the whole thing hilarious. Yet another instance of Julie insisting on a political principle she read in one of my books.

"You're the executive!" she declared over breakfast when I asked her about it, "We can't let you interfere!" She would have done well in Civics class, I guess. I would like to believe she was sparing me from having to engage with so many politicians at once, but I very much doubt it. Most likely she didn't want some noble pricks speaking over her head for my approval. That might have been a real threat, both to her power and my sanity.

Not particularly interested anyway, I stayed at L'Ambassade, making sure McNulty and Soprano were on hand to guard the palace. Armen was the Libertarian Mage representative, Ciara had been elected for L'Ambassade itself and Julie for Hearth. As punishment for her many sins, Leha was forced to attend as both quartermaster and treasurer, to her great dismay. So, I was left alone with Tam, more or less, an opportunity we seized with aplomb.

The delegates seemed to handle all the easy questions on the first day, probably because they were all hungover as badly as Leha was.

Julie and Ciara were formally ratified in their positions, the independence of Free Orlais in making its own laws and everything else in our proclamation was reaffirmed, the exact nature of Celene's ceremonial and legal roles was established, and various symbols were adopted on behalf of the Nobles and People of the Dales. The halla was adopted as the national animal, a symbol for both commoners and aristocrats, humans and elves.

I was most pleased with the news that our banner was to be a circle of thirteen stars on a blue field, with thirteen trailing stripes of red and white. Twelve stars for every _comté_ in Free Orlais, plus one for the Circle of Magi, six white stripes for the Circle and the five _comtés_ of the original Barons' Revolt, and seven red stripes for those we had conquered in the Emprise and the Emerald Graves. Not quite Old Glory, but close enough. It was actually Ciara's handiwork, something to make me fall further in love with my new country. Can't say that it failed.

The second day was supposedly more tense.

While Tam was teaching children and I was taking inventory of our armoury, the delegates were discussing the question of who was a citizen, and what that meant exactly. The nobles naturally pressed their ancient rights. The elves demanded absolute equality. The human representatives were divided. Julie just barely managed to broker a ceasefire with a suggestion from the mages, and Ciara played her part in selling it to her people. The nobles would have extensive ceremonial privileges. Right of reply, access to my less than happy ass to address grievances, higher precedence in the order of things.

But serfdom would be no more. All feudal dues were to be changed to contractual obligations within two years. Aristocratic privilege and legal exemptions were abolished, all were to be equal before the law.

Most of the nobles assembled were perfectly fine with this arrangement. It made them first among equals, and they were smart enough to know perfectly well that their power didn't come from their blood but from their wealth. All obligations for military service, road maintenance and bridge construction were to be decided upon by a permanent assembly, along with taxes and estates. I'm told Lady Doucy was the voice that ended up swaying her fellow nobles, forward thinker that she always was. Pierre also spoke in favour, either because he still wanted Julie in his bed or because he saw how effective my own measures had been in creating a sense of community and loyalty. I'll leave the questions about the likelihood of either to the historians. I would like to believe it was because he had finally seen the light. His unwavering support was a high price to pay to impress a woman, after all.

Others were very unhappy, but kept quiet until the worst possible moment. The snakes.

The third day was supposed to be another easy one, before the fourth day brought the most dangerous problem of all; taxes. It was expected that negotiations about those would take weeks. So, they all gathered in the palace once again to ease into it. The agenda was set; what to do about the Army. The nobles wanted to disband all of it except the Peacekeepers, save for de Villars. Their eyes were on how much they would be taxed to pay, feed and arm all of the soldiers. To their mind, the fighting was over. The commoners and mages wanted to expand the army, and adopt the militias that were forming all over the Dales as _La Garde Nationale_. Neither group believed that the Empire would tolerate an independent region, elves in government, or that the Templars would allow further freedom for mages. Ferelden had already become a problem.

The mages and commoners together were pretty much an unstoppable coalition, and it looked like they would get their way. Reluctantly. There was talk of creating a military academy for nobles, provided I agreed to teach in it. Regardless, as the morning became the afternoon, it looked like agreement would be reached.

We couldn't know what was happening in Jader and Halamshiral.

* * *

The Fourth of July started in a pretty typical fashion for me; gunplay.

Mike's newest troopers were training with their new firelances, eighty or so men and women aiming at targets set up in front of a huge mound about two hundred yards away. I was sat down, taking a break from my lessons, whistling Yankee Doodle and drinking water. The sun was damned fierce that day, and so I was stripped down to just my pants and boots again, sunglasses on. Tam was on a chair beside me, also wearing shades. On her lap, Lana was sitting with the Chant of Light in her hands, swinging her legs a little. We watched Mike roar commands at the FNGs, probably making their nervousness a little worse in the process.

It was all very relaxing, until I made the mistake of snickering. A thin private made the error of leaving her ramrod in the barrel after reloading. She took aim and fired the stick away with a metallic twang, giving everyone else on the range pause. They stopped firing and turned to the poor woman in horror, afraid what their superior would make of it. Perfectly timed so that the only noise that could be heard was my chuckling. Mike was displeased, and snatched the musket out of the woman's hands.

"Private, twenty pushups," she ordered, before turning to me, "Marquis, front and centre!"

Not quite sure where she got the idea that she could order me around, I considered reprimanding her on the spot. I must have been frowning, because Mike pointed at a spot off to her left at the end of the ranks. The privates glanced at each other nervously.

"Best do what she says," Tam said, "That one is fierce." Yeah, no shit Sherlock. I heaved myself out of my chair, grabbing my t-shirt from the arm and throwing it over myself, before wandering casually to the spot indicated.

Mike nodded to me, and turned to the nearest private.

"Your weapon," she said, hand out. The soldier handed the firelance over with great haste. As soon as Mike had it, she shoved it into my chest. I took hold of it quickly.

"General Order No.2 of the Peacekeeper Corps," Mike quoted, "All soldiers bearing firearms will be capable of shooting three rounds per minute or will drill daily for two hours until such a time as they can."

"I know the order, Mike," I said, "I gave it."

"Can you shoot three rounds per minute, my lord?" she asked, without so much as a hint of deference. There was no deflecting her.

"I don't need to," I replied, patting the handcannon on my hip, "But I know what you're going to say. What if I run out of bullets, what if it's damaged, ammunition doesn't grow on trees."

"You'll practice until you can fire three a minute," Mike said, "Just like everyone else." At that moment, I understood why most nobles had to be negotiated into agreeing to equality before the law.

"Gotcha," I replied, rolling my eyes, "Any reason why I shouldn't punish you for insubordination?"

"I'm too good to lose," Mike replied with complete sincerity. She handed over a belt and bandolier of cartridges. I grabbed it out of her grasp, and began putting it on.

Tam cackled with glee, almost sending Lana off of her perch. Mike's eyes moved that way, turning into a stare.

"What about you?" the Colonel asked Tam, "Shouldn't you be practising too?"

"I'm not in the army, technically," Tam replied, wiping her eyes, "You can't order me around."

Mike scowled, and looked to me. I shook my head, making it perfectly clear I wasn't going to order Tam to take part either. Julie had something special planned for Tam when it came to our new weapons, and besides that, the Qunari was already a damned fine shot with a longbow. She could take care of herself.

So, I stepped up to the plate and began drilling with the flintlock firelance. I soon discovered that I was bloody slow, even with the innovations Julie had designed into the thing. To my eternal embarrassment, the privates were significantly faster than I was, very nearly getting to the three per minute target if my watch was working as it should have. I was barely managing one or two a minute. The cartridges were fiddly as hell, and getting the ramrod in without the muscle memory was tedious. I was cursing under my breath by the fifth shot.

In a very short time, the privates were smiling to themselves, revealing Mike's true motivation. Now that they were outshooting the Viceroy, everyone's morale was much improved. I ran into this trap as soon as I started laughing. I guess I have a different leadership style, but it's hard to deny that Mike's own was pretty good.

"Sam, can I continue the lesson?" Lana asked me from behind, "Since you're going to be there for a while?"

A ripple of laughter went through the ranks, Mike joining in with a bark of her own. My inferiority in this task was clear enough for a child to see.

"Sure, why not," I said, wiping my forehead, "Where were we?"

"Hessarian," Lana said, opening the Chant near the end, "What do you know about him?"

"Tevinter guy, had Andraste killed but followed her teachings afterwards," I said, "The Grand-Cleric is fond of mentioning him to me." Liked to compare me to him as well. Another person the Maker had touched personally. Hessarian is related to Tiberius, by the way, via a now-extinct branch of that family. The whole bloodline converted with him. Aurelia did like to mention it.

"He ordered Andraste burned, but the Maker spoke to him, and to save her the pain, he drove his sword through her," Lana explained, reading, "He took up the Chant of Light ten years later, and declared it the official faith of the Imperium. Andraste's light spread throughout the lands, throughout the hearts of the common folk. The Old Gods were strangled by the light."

"How violent," Tam remarked, "Is this really something you should be teaching to children?" Her protective-motherly instincts being honed to a point, of course.

The little girl fidgeted for a moment. "Best we know the truth," Lana insisted, "Lies about don't protect anyone."

"Those are the words of the priestess," Tam replied to the child, "Not your own."

"Definitely," I said. Lana began pouting a little, flicking through the pages of her book for the next part of the lesson she wanted to deliver.

"Faith is important to a soldier," Mike added, "Whether it is in the Maker, their superiors or their cause." The Colonel looked at me pointedly, no doubt reminding me of our conversation at Sahrnia.

"Or the paychest they're to receive," Tam said sternly, "Not everyone is as honourable as you, Colonel."

I brought up the firelance to fire again, took aim, and with a satisfying bang and a blinding smoke cloud, I near-decapitated the target in a shower of splinters. I might not be able to fire quickly, but I was a damn good shot as always. Though Julie had the potential to be better, if she spent less time tinkering. I glanced at Mike for her reaction with a cocked eyebrow, but she didn't seem all that impressed. She was a good shot too.

Not getting the rise out of her that I had hoped, I brought the weapon around to reload, but stopped as the sound of hooves filled the air. Leha appeared around the corner of the château on her pony, waving as she came towards us.

"We need you, quickly!" she said breathlessly, "Both of you. Maybe even these guys too." Tam and I both moved closer, so we could have some privacy. The troopers were back to looking nervous.

"What's happened?" I asked, "Are we under attack?"

"The delegates are at each other's throats," Leha replied, "And those two aren't helping things."

"Those two?" Tam asked, "Who do you mean?"

"Julie and Ciara," Leha said, "There's been a disagreement."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. I had no idea what the hell that meant. A disagreement that required my presence and maybe the presence of my soldiers was bad enough, but if Leha was right, she meant that the disagreement was between Ciara and Julie. What could possibly come between those two? I was at a complete loss.

However, it was perfectly obvious that Leha had come rushing for bad reasons. I nodded, and turned to Mike.

"Colonel, secure the château grounds," I said, falling naturally into command, "I want the place on lockdown, and I want your regiment put into the town. I don't want a repeat episode of rioting."

"Yes, my lord," Mike replied, "I'll task a team to keep the kid safe."

"I'd appreciate that," I said, "Tam, let's get the horses."

* * *

Tam, Leha and I rode hard to get to the Baron's palace, going around the town walls rather than through the traffic of the streets. We entered by the north gate and immediately turned into the nobles' quarter. The guard pickets waved us through. As we got closer to the palace, sounds of shouting got louder.

Soprano and McNulty were waiting at the gate in full battle dress, with the exception of their blue berets.

"Sam, thank the Maker you're here," McNulty exclaimed, throwing his arms up, "We have no idea what to do!"

"More like we don't have the authority to do what is necessary," Soprano rebuked, "Considering who is in there."

As if to make their point, another ruckus echoed from the small courtyard beyond, out of the half-open doors to the ballroom. It died down, or halfway at least, but the rumbles of discontent were enough to convince me that the situation was serious.

"That is not good," said Tam, as we dismounted.

"What happened?" I asked Leha, "I need all the information."

"It's best if you see for yourself," Leha replied, "Julie told me to show you, not waste time explaining."

Useless as an ashtray on a motorcycle, that was. I glared at the dwarf for not breaking her word. Luckily, my officers were under no obligation to keep their mouths shut.

"Two groups came in together claiming to be from Jader and Halamshiral during the lunch break," Soprano said, "Some of the people from the north verified that, and they were let in at the start of the second session. They locked up the place tight, until Madame Cadas left. Things started getting heated soon after. That's all we know."

"Thank you Colonel," I said, "Bring up two squads." Soprano clicked her fingers, and gave the orders to a runner, who sprinted off out of the gates and around the corner towards the town barracks nearby."

The noise of arguing rose. By the time Sergeant Shovels arrived with eighteen of the Rangers and another six Grenadiers, the sounds had progressed from angry talk to what could only be a fistfight. Shouts, chairs slamming on the floor, the grunts of physical exertion. It was only a matter of time before the mages did something, and then there would be no going back.

"Fuck," I said, "Fix bayonets."

"FIX BAYONETS!" Shovels repeated. The soldiers did as they were told, affixing the blades to the ends of their firelances quickly rather than in tune with one another. No need for parade ground precision here.

"With me," I said loudly, "Do not fire, do not stab, unless I give an express command. If I do something, do not take that as an order to attack. Understood?!"

"Yes, my lord!"

I nodded to Tam to join me in the front. She drew her longsword and dagger, and stood beside me.

"No one leaves this place until I do," I said to McNulty. He saluted, understanding my meaning. The events inside were not for public consumption. Historians may want to take notes at this point.

I marched to the doors, the soldiers following behind me in close order with their weapons shouldered, and swung the thing open from a crack until you could have fit a tank in the space. Light from the high windows illuminated the scene, and what a scene it was.

Julie stood in her Earth uniform at the back on top of the raised dias, out of her seat and shouting for order. Beside her was Louise, in a grey dress uniform but holding her own sword and shield, a barrier to what was happening on the floor. It was a mighty brawl in progress. People were in the midst of attempting to pummel each other to a fine pulp with their fists. There didn't seem to be any racial divide, elves and humans seemed perfectly happy to have a go at their own kind. Both sported bloody noses and bruises.

The clothes were a clue though. Among the well-made outfits of the delegates, there was a good number of what can only be described as peasants' tunics. Cécile des Arbes had personally made sure that everyone attending the convention would have something worthy of their new station, so even our peasant representatives were well dressed. It appeared the newcomers had instigated the melee.

I was not amused. The combatants nearest the doorway had slowly caught our presences, and began backing off, but those further into the room clearly hadn't got the picture. I balanced the musket Mike had given me on my hip, cocked the flint with my thumb, and fired it into the ceiling. The deep thump of the discharge boomed around the room, followed by the ping impact of the shot on the stone roof. The fighting stopped as if someone had pulled a lever, and heads craned to find the source of the noise.

Glad that I had made my point, I stepped into the room, Tam at my side again. The soldiers filed in too, lowering their weapons so that their bayonets were pointing at the throng.

"What is this mess?!" I growled, "Back to your damned seats!"

Julie sat down and balanced her head on her hand and arm, as Leha ran up to join her. The delegates began complying when they saw that, picking up chairs that had been thrown aside and righting the tables, putting them back into line with the others.

The factions became visible as they did so. The nobles sat to the right, contempt evident in their tightened body language. More wealthy commoners padded out that side of the room too, though a good number of them had been involved in the fighting. To the left were the less well-off and those who lived close to Hearth. What I thought most interesting was where the mages were sitting. Armen was with the Hearthlanders, Velarana with the wealthier commoners, Valle with the nobles. The mages had not only aligned with the non-magical factions, but had seemed to merge into the leadership of each.

This is the reason today's political factions are still named after the old Circle fraternities. The Libertarians sided with the radical commoners, whom were by far the most numerous. The Aequitarians sided with the commoners who had more to lose, being moderates. The Lucrosians sided with the richest for the obvious reasons; they were entrepreneurs through and through. It's a clear indicator of my distaste for politics that I hadn't seen this trend coming, and it began to irritate me. I had taken my eye off the ball, and it seemed to have come back to bite me in the ass.

The 'guests' were less cooperative, two small groups gathering together on the sides, chattering to each other. They looked dishevelled, their clothes dirty and their boots well-worn. Most had bags under their eyes too, indicating that they hadn't slept in a good while. They were divided by race, I noted.

Ciara was standing among the elves, her hands moving in calming motions as the others in the group pointed at me. The humans stood nearly silently, staring. Not in a hostile manner, but starstruck. I saw hope in their eyes, and wondered why I found that dangerous.

"Now that I have the attention of the audience," I continued, looking to Julie as I cradled the firelance, "What seems to be the trouble, Chancellor?"

A man from the human group emerged from their cluster. He was in his forties, with greying black hair and rough tanned skin. He approached me, quite literally hat in hand. A tricorne no less.

"Viceroy, if I may explain..." he began. I grimaced, not wanting to hear it from him. I moved my right hand from the stock of the firelance to the butt of my handcannon, but it was ultimately unnecessary.

Tam moved in front of him, and rested her swordpoint on his chest. He backed off quickly, but she followed, keeping the point on him gently until he was back among his group.

"He didn't ask you," said Tam softly, "You'll get your turn." The man nodded, understanding both the truth of her words, and the threat behind them if he didn't go along with it.

Julie sighed, rose again from her seat. She stepped onto the lower level of the dais beside Louise, who hadn't resumed her place with the nobles. She took a deep breath before speaking.

"The Grand Convention wishes to know the state of the army," said Julie in a formal tone, rolling her eyes, "And whether we are ready to fight beyond our part of the Dales if need-be."

My eyebrows gathered in confusion. It was a strange thing to inquire about, for one particular reason. "Is the Convention aware that you are very well informed about that?" I asked, "Or is there something specific that only I know?"

Julie put her hands on her hips, her eyes tracking to Ciara.

"They want to hear it from you," she said, "They trust you, as someone the Maker has sent to save us from the tyrannies of the world." There was much nodding from the delegates and the guests alike, a 'hear-hear' or two. I felt my throat close ever so slightly in consternation, not liking that people were relying on my word for those sorts of reasons. I paused for a moment, gathering my thoughts.

"Why?" I asked, turning my question to the room generally, "Why do you all want to know about the army? What's the hurry?"

"Things have started happening in the north," Julie said, "We will start with Jader. Monsieur Pecheur, it's your turn." She climbed back up to her seat, and settled in to hear the account. The man who had stepped forward before, did so again and bowed to her.

"Thank you, High Chancellor," he said.

"Get on with it," Julie replied.

"Three weeks ago, word about Sahrnia reached us. The men of Jader began gathering to discuss how to join Free Orlais, meeting with the elders of the elves in the Alienage, spreading copies of _Le Sens Commun_ and other writings," Pecheur said, "Lady Seryl didn't appreciate that. The guards began cracking down, sealing off the alienage and harassing us."

Memorised reports sprung up in my mind, as Leha's contacts gave good accounts to us of what was happening elsewhere in Orlais and beyond. Or what we thought of as good reports, at any rate. The latest from Jader had mentioned what he was describing.

"We heard there was unrest," I said, "Riots."

"They were no riots," Pecheur replied, gaining confidence, "Last week, we smuggled our families out on our fishing boats, gathered together and tried to seize the city. We would have set the royal fleets ablaze, but they were out chasing pirates. So instead, we laid siege to the high quarter."

Understanding the folly of that action, I frowned.

Jader was a border city, sat right beside Ferelden and the end of the Frostback Mountains. Part of Ferelden, if you ask a Fereldan commoner. Part of the Avvarlands, if you ask one of those barbarians. As such, it was one of the strongest fortresses in Thedas. Its walls of green stone were thick, and laid as multi-layer defences. Sure, commoners looking to take the city had a better chance from within than an attacking army had from outside, but the inner defences weren't bad either. I knew all of this, because I figured that eventually we would have to take the city. Leha's people had gotten us detailed sketches of the place.

"You lost," I stated.

"The citadel was too strong," Pecheur confirmed, "We managed to open the alienage, but Lady Seryl just sat in her castle until reinforcements from the countryside arrived. By then, our boats had returned, and we fled on them as the soldiers rampaged through the streets. Most of the elves refused to flee, their families were still there. Our own are coming upriver now."

"They'll be provided for," Julie said, "I swear it." The man bowed a second time, more deeply. We would settle the refugees to the east of Hearth, thousands of them. There were a number of villages in decline out there that we intended to regenerate.

"So you want to know if our army could take Jader?" I asked, "It certainly could, without question."

The man's face lit up, but a collective grumble of discontent from the nobles precluded any further discussion. A figure among the nobles stood up. It was Henri Clouet.

"Lady Seryl is a loyal ally of the Empress!" the lord complained, "Are we all not loyal subjects?! Isn't that why we fought until now?!"

The commoners both poor and rich shouted insults back. They certainly hadn't taken up arms to fight for Celene, no matter how many times we had said that. Clouet shouted insults back, calling the Libertarians in particular a bunch of rabble rousers. Pierre managed to get him to sit down, and stood up to speak himself. I roared for quiet, which I got immediately, and indicated for him to speak. I wanted to hear what he had to say.

"Lord Clouet is right about one thing, it would be war against the Empire," Pierre said, "If we take Halamshiral and attack Jader, we will be vulnerable, stretched thin. We can raise sixty thousand trained troops at the most. Our enemies can raise far more than that."

He wasn't wrong, though only a fraction of those facing us would be professional soldiers, and none would have firearms or blackpowder artillery. But it was something else that was the real trouble.

"Take Halamshiral?" I asked, "Why would we take Halamshiral? That would mean war with the whole Empire, Celene and Gaspard both."

Ciara moved out of the elven group. "The city is on the edge of rebellion," she said, "The _Comte d'Halamshiral_ is refusing to allow elves to emigrate south to join us. That was bad enough, but now his chevaliers are out for blood. A lord's carriage ran over a child, the neighbourhood attacked, and they set up barricades."

"Halamshiral is a Crownland," I said, "You understand that, right?"

"Why does that matter?!" Ciara asked, her voice rising, "The chevaliers will kill and kill until the everyone has submitted or has died. It's what they do. We must save the people of Halamshiral!"

A roar of agreement erupted from the Libertarians, joined by some of the Aequitarians. They all stamped their feet, filling the air with an uneven beat to maximise the weight of their opinion. The nobles and merchants remained silent. I felt as if an unstoppable force had just been unleashed, and I wasn't wrong. Now it was a matter of directing it, but I didn't know how. Not yet.

Julie held up her hand, and the place quieted. Respect for her was universal, except perhaps among the nobles.

"You know me, I would gladly save every man, woman and child if I could," she said, "If it was Jader alone, we could march off tomorrow, but if we attack Halamshiral, we will face the full might of Orlais. It won't just be our fellow citizens there that will die, but all of us. Everything we have built in the past year, all of your freedoms, will be at stake. Are you ready to put your lives, your families, your treasure and your liberty under threat for this?"

The nobles rose and gave applause, but Julie did not pay them any heed. Her eyes narrowed. She was arguing very much against her instincts, thinking that such an attack was suicide. She just let the approval of those with no interest in saving anyone wash over her like unavoidable rain. I looked across to Ciara and those behind her. Their faces were downcast, eyes filled with tears, hands shaking with sheer terror for loved ones. The understanding that there would be no help was sending them into despair. A quick glance at the men from Jader, and the same was written all over them.

Despair is dangerous to any revolution.

"There must be a way!" Ciara declared, "If Halamshiral and Jader are crushed, how long until the Empress comes for us?!"

She rounded on the nobles. "You think you'll be immune when our new freedoms become inconvenient?! Did you think that Val Royeaux would let you rule yourselves?!" she shouted, her fists clenched under her knuckles turned white, "You'll be killed too!"

The whole room was as quiet as a crypt, save for Ciara's panting. She had used too much breath. She turned away, her hand over her face. Armen got up and ran over, bringing her into an embrace to try and calm her down.

That was the final straw for me.

"She's right," I said, not believing the words were coming out of my mouth, "If it's tomorrow, next year or in ten years time, eventually the Empress or Gaspard will attempt to reassert control of these lands."

"Then we fight now," Armen said, "Before the fight comes to us."

"The army is not ready," I replied, "But it can be in a month, two at the most."

"Ready to face off against the full might of the royal armies?" Clouet said, incredulous, "In a month?! Impossible."

"Every day that passes, we gain an advantage," Julie said, "Our troops are better trained, better equipped, better supplied, and battle hardened. If the Viceroy believes we can win, then I recommend that we take the vote."

"I trust the Viceroy's word," said Pierre, "But what will the cost be, even if we do win?"

"You should know that it's going to be close," I replied quickly, "This won't be like Sahrnia. It'll likely take years."

A cacophony of talking began. It was softer, less aggressive. The convention was coming together again. Just in time too. I walked over to Armen and Ciara. They spoke quietly to each other, before noticing me.

"Thank you," said Ciara, tears in her eyes, "I didn't doubt you... but thank you." She was Dalish. Her culture had taught her about the numerous failures and disasters of the elves throughout history, and she feared having to watch another, helpless. A fear I shared.

"Julie was right to be cautious," I replied, looking at my lover as she shouted at the crowd for order, "But you're right. The Empire would have struck sooner or later."

"Or the Chantry," said Armen, "That people are so accepting of mages here is another reason for them to destroy us." I nodded. We would indeed be seeing Templars in the ranks of our enemies once more.

"Both of you still have work to do. The vote's not won yet, but I've done all I can," I said, "Come on Tam, let's get out of here."

Tam sheathed her sword and dagger, and we walked towards the troops again. The whole ballroom was once again speaking on civil terms, with Julie firmly back in command of the situation. The soldiers seemed to be on edge, but I waved them off.

"Crisis averted," I said to Sergeant Shovels, "Stand down." The soldiers filed out, somewhat reluctantly.

"What now?" Tam asked, as we went out into the sun again.

"Now, I need to sit down with a whole lot of vodka, and think about how I'm going to defeat armies ten times the size of ours," I said, "We've really bitten off more than we can chew." Tam took my hand, threading our fingers, and brought me into a hug.

"We can't lose," she said, "We won't." I wish I could say now that I shared her confidence.

The Convention voted for war six hours later.

* * *

 _AUTHOR'S NOTE: I have to say once again that the support you guys have been giving me for this story has been great. I find myself highly motivated to get the stuff out thanks to it. Even got the Fourth of July chapter out on the Fourth of July!_

 _Happy Birthday, Yankland._

 _As always, rolling edits may be made. I have three other stories at least floating about in my head, excluding original work, so bear with me._

 _ **Darth Slainous:** Indeed it is changing Thedas, and will change more to come._

 _ **Drgyen:** Sam's kindness towards elves will factor in Trespasser's ending, but Solas isn't exactly fighting for a racially pluralistic society..._

 _Sam wasn't an ungrateful redneck so much as someone with an identity crisis in his youth, one that was resolved by his army experience._

 _The demon Imshael is apprehended by the Dalish at the time of these chapters, so he won't be showing up._

 _ **American-Gentleman96** : What a great coincidence your nickname is! _

_It's heavily implied by the Tamassrans disallowing interbreeding that humans and qunari can have children. Given that elf-human and dwarf-human pairs can have children, it's very very likely that qunari-human pairs can too. At least, that's my opinion. I always had a sneaking suspicion that 'hornless' qunari are in fact half-human. Yes, that includes Sten._

 _ **5 Coloured Walker:** I have absolutely no problem with you keeping the count up._

 _ **Mekh'Iis En'Ghae'rhon:** Glad you like the worldbuilding. Certainly, there will be more exploration of Earth influence on Thedosian cultures, either in this story, or in a separate 'Outlanders' story that I'm trying to resist writing because I have too many stories already._

 _Manipulative Other pulling the strings? Never._

 _ **AlphaCenturion:** Thanks very much, keep reading!_


	30. Chapter 30: Mir Da'len Somniar

**Chapter Thirty: Mir Da'len Somniar**

 _Elgara vallas, da'len - Sun sets, little one,  
Melava somniar - Time to dream  
Mala tara aravas - Your mind journeys,  
Ara ma'desen melar - But I will hold you here_

 _Iras ma ghilas, da'len - Where will you go, little one_  
 _Ara ma'nedan ashir - Lost to me in sleep?_  
 _Dirthara lothlenan'as - Seek truth in a forgotten land_  
 _Bal emma mala dir - Deep with in your heart_

 _Tel'enfenim, da'len - Never fear, little one,_  
 _Irassal ma ghilas - Wherever you shall go_  
 _Ma garas mir renan - Follow my voice_  
 _Ara ma'athlan vhenas - I will call you home_  
 _Ara ma'athlan vhenas - I will call you home_

Mir Da'len Somniar is a Dalish lullaby, sung to infants who wake in the night with terrors or nightmares. It refers heavily to the Fade, to the ancient civilisation of the elves, and to the fact that one can get lost in dreams. It is a song for mothers and fathers to their children, to exhort them to sleep and visit what once was, yet not fall prey to the deadly perils in the dreamworld. It is one of the most beautiful songs I have ever had the experience of listening to, and once I knew I would have children of my own, I was eager to learn it for myself. Terrible accent and all. Ciara was happy to oblige.

I start this chapter with its words because the events I am about to recount fill me with burning, all-consuming hatred so deep that it made me abandon my principles for a time. I start this chapter in this way because the memory of this song is the only remedy for these other memories.

Many positive things have been said about the goals of the Peacekeepers under my direction. The number of people we have saved from death, exploitation and tyranny is certainly not small. However, much has also been said about the ruthlessness with which we pursue our objectives, disregarding all tradition and precedent, ploughing through all resistance towards our greater purpose. The events I intend to put to paper here are the reason for that ruthlessness. They expose such accusations for what they are; base hypocrisy of the worst kind. Everyone else merely couches their breaches of civilised conduct in fine words. We do not waste words.

It is perhaps my greatest regret in life that we still have no idea as to who the instigators were.

The events happened too quickly after the Convention to have been a direct response to its declaration of war, as far as we can tell, and yet to have set them into motion before that decision would have been utterly bizarre. The only person we know for sure that did not order it is Gaspard, bizarrely, for while he was the only one with an absolute motivation against us, his chevalier honour would have been greatly threatened by such actions. He was well known to execute followers who failed in such standards as well.

I fear I shall die not knowing who was responsible.

* * *

July was filled with war preparations of every kind.

Preparing supplies, seeing to the repair and upgrading of roads northwards, eastwards and southwards, drilling new soldiers, organising the new logistics corps, and coordinating with Leha for intelligence gathering. It was absolutely exhausting. Twelve to sixteen hour days. Mountains of paperwork, facilitated by our new bureaucracy but absolutely tedious as computers did not exist. They barely exist today.

Ciara was given the task of rallying the people and the new assembly to the cause. She was the most insistent on war, so she was damn well going to make sure we had the resources to win. She wielded the threats of censure and expropriation like daggers, tearing into opponents. Commoners who refused to vote for the raising of workers or the establishment of militias, merchants who refused to convey key materials at a fair price, nobles who refused to pay taxes, all found themselves at the sharp end. She even managed to get the 'Elfsblood' River renamed to 'Suledin' after the peak and lake it was sourced from.

Julie concentrated most of her time on one thing; weapons. While she read reports and fielded questions as High Chancellor, she did so by the forge, laboratory or the chemical factory. Almost every blacksmith and carpenter in the Emprise was moved to Hearth, if they hadn't moved to get a taste of our new found wealth already. Tam and Armen were brought in to help. Tam to inform her about Qunari ideas with blackpowder weapons. Their concepts were inferior, but easier to make. Armen was involved to assist production with magic, coordinating with the Lucrosians.

Julie's genius did not disappoint. With no small amount of difficulty, she created exactly what we needed. Explosive shot for the cannons, enough firelances for half the army, and her latest Earth-inspired first-on-Thedas invention; the rocket. You see, we had a particular problem; a lack of trained artillery troops with no time to train them. Only the Tranquil had the skills required, and we only had a couple of hundred of them. So, Julie came up with a solution that required far less skill, both to build and to use; rockets. They're less accurate, and not much use against castles, but you can fire hundreds of them with very little training and completely carpet a piece of land. Katyusha would sing in Orlais.

I have often wondered if it was this last innovation that sparked the tragedy to come.

It was August by then, the day of the last test of the rockets, the day when we would finally fire an entire rack of them in sequence. The patch of forest we had used for testing all our weapons was no longer much of a forest at all. We had turned it into a hellscape of broken tree trunks and scorched earth. Both people and animals knew very well to stay away.

Julie, covered in black dirt and soot in her smith's overalls, triggered a primitive electrical circuit. Half the army watched as twenty four rockets moaned off the guide rails attached to a cart, two at a time, launching themselves into the sky from beside our château. Their orange flames spouted gouts of white smoke behind them. The warheads impacted a mile and a half away, sending flashes of light and sonic booms back to us. A mile and a half wasn't even close to the maximum range, but it was about as far as you could aim accurately. The things worked great, though their explosives were less impressive than what we'd have later.

The soldiers didn't cheer or shout, they just stood by stunned. I guess they understood what it would be like to have to face such a weapon. This is why I think whoever made the decision to strike must have been in Hearth itself, with orders to wait unless developments moved forwards. The huge rocket test, visible from the walls of the town and much of the surrounding territory, would certainly have represented something to be acted on.

After the display, Julie simply sighed. No triumphant declarations this time. Just fatigue. We returned to the château, speaking about what to do next and how close we were to being ready. I reckoned we should give it two weeks. Leha's contacts were reporting troop movements in the Heartlands towards Val Royeaux. The Empress was on the move. Julie thought we were ready as we were going to be. She still didn't want the war, but since everyone else did, she wanted to start it immediately. It turned into a disagreement, albeit a brief one.

In the end, we didn't settle the matter. Julie had other things to do. She washed the caked dirt off of herself, dressed in a comfortable and respectable dress, and took the first time off she had in a month. She was bound for the Baron's palace. Élodie and Claire had been invited for dinner by Pierre. He knew she had been pushing herself too hard, and she deserved a meal that didn't consist of a piece of cold meat on top of a piece of bread. It didn't stop me from being insanely jealous, a feeling I would be beating myself up for in later weeks.

I wasn't done for the day, unfortunately.

* * *

At about six in the evening, summer rain began slapping down onto the ground outside my window, soaking into the closest thing to a mosquito net that I could find. The former bedroom turned office filled with the scent of damp and the sounds of people rushing through puddles to get under cover. The downpour would likely continue the next day, I thought, and I came to the decision that drilling would be suspended for the soldiers. They had already had two weeks leave, but tensions were mounting all the same. Rumours of the troop movements swirled about.

On the bright side, the summer heat broke almost instantly, allowing me to work.

With me were Ciara and Louise, dressed in their usual outfits of Dalish hunting gear and light chevalier armour respectively. Our vice-chancellor had come over in her duty to irritate me with requests, and Blondie had pretty much become my personal adjutant as much as a bodyguard, though she took the armoured mask act a little seriously. Both were drinking coffee out of small metal cups, though the latter held her cup with her off-hand rather than her sword-hand. Ciara and I were sitting down in the leather seats that we seemed to have stacks of, while Louise hovered within sword's reach.

The start of the conversation I don't quite recall now, but it was on the subject that seemed to be on everyone's mind.

"I know it takes time," Ciara said, conceding something about the army, "Halamshiral can only wait so long. We managed to calm everyone down with the promise that we'd be marching to free them, what do you think will happen if we don't? They'll rise up."

She made a convincing argument, and along with Julie's own wish to rush, I found myself moving away from my former position. I smiled back at the capable young woman in front of me. "You've come a long way," I said, leaning back, "From dock server to a leader of the Dales in one year. It seems politics is a growth industry, these days."

"I was a Dalish hunter before that," Ciara replied, before sipping her coffee again, "Though I was not of age, so I never received my vallaslin."

I raised an eyebrow, not familiar with the term.

"The tattoos," Louise supplied, "The Dalish typically have tattoos on their face." Ciara was quite literally the only Dalish elf I had ever met. I never had any reason to inquire into the customs of the Dalish clans. They kept away from 'human' settlement for the most part, especially in our part of the Dales. Needless to say, I was suddenly interested.

"Like the Maori," I mused, my eyes turning to the ceiling, "I knew an operator from New Zealand, looked like he had a whole story tattooed on his face. Scary son of a bitch even without it."

I returned my attention to the two women with me, to discover blank looks of ignorance.

"Sorry, I really have to stop doing that," I chuckled, "After all this time, I must miss Earth more than I am aware of." The anniversary of my arrival seemed to have made me talk a great deal more on the subject.

"Don't," Ciara replied, "I like hearing about your home. It always sounds like it is full of wonders and impossibilities, even the terrible things. You haven't talked about it much until recently."

"Wonders like nuclear weapons and ice cream," I nodded, "Tam is a fan of both." Ciara inclined her head knowingly, well aware of how badly my Qunari lover had once wanted to escape this world.

"I am sure one day we will have both, my lord," Louise said, "What I have seen in the past months has overcome the entirety of the rest of my life's experience. That the common people could create such things has... shaken my beliefs."

Best pray that we don't need nuclear weapons, I thought to myself, almost shuddering at the mental image of medieval cities turned to ashes in a single instant. On the other hand, imagining a Blight-spreading darkspawn army going up in a mushroom cloud was an encouraging thought. Humanity's relationship with weaponry in a nutshell, I guess.

"Colonel Soprano is fond of mentioning your comments about elves," Ciara said to Louise, half-growling.

"Colonel Soprano is fond of doing all she can to undermine my authority," Louise replied, remaining calm, "I would recommend her immediate removal, were she less courageous. She was a criminal before the Marquis lifted her up, as far as I understand it."

The argument brewing was getting off the point. "Talent comes from many places," I said with finality, "I think everyone in this room knows that now." Leaving the comment about it not being the exclusive reserve of pampered nobles or hidden amongst commoners out, for diplomacy's sake.

That put a stop to the storm on the horizon.

"The Assembly wants to know when we will march. Not next week, not next month, but tomorrow," Ciara repeated, quoting what she had been told to say to me at this point in the conversation, "If you don't have an answer I can give them, then they'll vote to..."

The words after that were drowned out.

The floor and walls shook slightly as a muffled boom rippled through the air, causing some dust to fall from the roof supports onto my head. There weren't any tests scheduled for that day, so it could have been only one thing. I stood up, brushing the grey dirt off myself, and ran through the door connecting to my bedroom. The other two followed.

"What was that?" Louise asked, from the doorway.

"Arm yourselves," I replied, dragging the familiar green metal box from underneath my bed. I didn't know how much time I had. The sounds of shouting in the courtyard and from the parade grounds grew. Ciara pulled her straight dagger out from the sheath on the small of her back. Louise's longsword made its own appearance with an elegant wave. Happy to see that neither seemed all that worried, it rallied my own nerves a little as I put on my body armour, retrieved my firelance and loaded a magazine into it.

"Follow me," I ordered.

I went back into the office and out into the corridor, towards the spiral staircase at the corner of the building. The garden courtyard was visibly filling up with soldiers, I noted. Mike was directing them to seal the place off. I didn't have my earpiece at the time, and her professionalism was a good note.

"Where are we going?" Ciara asked.

"The north-east basement," I replied, stopping to look down into the space. There was a lot of dust thrown up that hadn't settled, but no movement in the candlelight down there. I breathed easier.

"But that's where the..." Ciara started, turning paler.

"Where the Earth weapons are, I know," I said, "That's why I left a little surprise for anyone going down there without permission." A small pallet of plastic explosives sandwiched between a metal plate and a box filled to bursting with nails, scrap iron and musket balls, to be exact. It was well signposted to avoid the basement entirely, in pictographs as well as dwarven and Latin scripts. Only an outsider would have disregarded the threat, or believed themselves good enough to avoid any traps. Perhaps if the technology I had used was medieval, they might have. Hard to spot and avoid a pressure plate when it's electronic.

I led the way down the stairs. I checked the door to the courtyard and found that it was unlocked. It should not have been. I continued downwards, firelance raised, until reaching the darkness of the basement itself. The stout columns and The dust was about, hovering just above the ground. The smell of alcohol was overpowering.

"Well, shit," I said to myself, "There goes the wine. I guess wiring the cage up to blow without padding them out was a bad idea." I thought I was only dealing with dead thieves.

The bodies of three men were lying in the pools of reds and white, adding their own crimson blood to the wet mess. Beyond them, the metal bars of the cage were still intact, though the metal plate that had held the trap was twisted out of shape. I went over to the nearest corpse, rolled him over and shined a flashlight on him. He had been at the back, so his tanned face and brown hair were still intact, but the rest of him was riddled with holes. It looked like he had managed to crawl a little before expiring.

"Don't suppose either of you can tell me where he's from?" I asked, turning to my companions. Ciara had her hand over her mouth and face to protect from the smell, while Louise's mask looked on without emotion.

"Based on the skin colour, he's probably from further north," Louise said unwaveringly, "Tevinter, Antiva, maybe the Anderfels. His clothes are poor, but his shoes are expensive, so he couldn't just be tanned from working in a field. This is no peasant." She leaned down and pulled up the man's hand, revealing an uncalloused hand with gaudy gold and silver rings. I noticed small gold studs in the thief's ears too.

So, not an opportunist then. I rifled through his pockets for any clues as to who sent him. I found a dagger akin to hundreds of thousands used in Orlais, a blood-soaked hand drawn map of the château, and a piece of paper with 'sunset at the docks' written on it.

"We're going to have to do a little ambush down at the dockyards," I said, handing the map and note to Ciara, "They had a map of the building, and I want to know who gave them that information."

"We'll catch them and make your displeasure apparent, my lord," Louise promised, sheathing her sword, "Are the weapons unharmed?"

I hadn't worried about that before, as the containers holding the ammunition for my Earth weapons and the remaining weapons themselves were designed to resist great shocks. I had a look now regardless. The floor of the cage was a sea of jagged green glass and spilled wine, but the stacked green cases at the back were entirely unharmed, not a dent on them and still in the exact place I last left them. I remember being relieved that a good number of wine bottles had also made it.

"Buona sera," said a pair of delicate voices from behind, in an accent that I would have called Italian or Spanish. Treviso-Antivan to anyone else. One was male, one was female.

I spun around to view the speaker.

A hooded figure was charging, axe raised. Ciara had turned too, dagger at the ready, but it was too late. The axe bit deep into her shoulder and chest, checked only by her collarbone. She collapsed, the dagger flying out of her hand. Blood pouring out of the wound.

"CIARA!" I shouted. I felt a force slam into the engraved steel plate on the front of my armour, hitting the eagle motif in the head. I looked down to see that a crossbow bolt had sprouted, and back up again. The bolt had come from a nearly identical hooded figure, standing at the bottom of the staircase with her weapon, reloading it.

Louise wordlessly took out her sword once more, and stepped to the attack. The axe-wielding assassin didn't flinch, and pulled a small messer out. They began trading blows in the middle of the space, blocking my line of fire. Blade met blade, the sound louder due to the thick stone walls, their breaths of exertion amplified. The chevalier was going all out, buying me time.

Not wanting to waste that gift, I went to Ciara and began applying pressure to the wound. She was barely conscious. I stripped off her top half, and began to panic. The cut was deep, and had barely missed her neck. I restored my resolve with the realisation that a mage could save her easily, if I could only keep her alive for the next few minutes. She screamed with pain as I attempted to bandage her with a strip of her own tunic. I comforted her as best I could, before she passed out. I tightened the makeshift bandage and stood up, pissed off that was all I could do for her.

Another bolt pinged off the rock beside my head. The shooter ducked behind the doorway again, as Louise and the axeman whirled back into the way. The former deflected yet another blow, and took a mighty swing that the latter barely dodged. " _Cazzo cavaliere!_ " he cried, avoiding decapitation, " _Mi aiuti!_ "

" _Basta!_ "

The shooter poked her head out and took aim at Louise. The axeman swung wildly to buy space, before leaping away towards the doorway again.

My jaw clenched with rage, and I saw my chance. I opened up on the guy with my firelance. Full automatic, emptying the magazine of its thirty bullets and hosing the space between where he had been standing and the stairs. At least three of the bullets struck home, and he dropped his axe, but it didn't stop his movement. He ran like a man possessed up the stairwell, followed by his accomplice. Louise was forced to duck away as a parting bolt thrummed through the air at her. Suppression to retreat, I said in my head. They were fucking good at this.

"Go, stop them!" I said to Louise, "Send down a mage!"

The chevalier's mask nodded, and the woman behind it began taking the stairs three at a time. The sounds of gunfire began seeping down from the open door above.

I cradled Ciara's unconscious form, my hands covered with her blood, until a group of mages led by the healer Markham made an appearance. They had a stretcher. He pried me off of her with some difficulty, and began healing her. I hovered, watching as they stabilised her. Something our chief medical officer was not pleased with.

"Go," Markham commanded, "I know you will want to stay, but you must go." His tone was not that of anger or disdain, the voice he usually used when talking to me. It was a warning.

At first, I didn't understand, but it dawned on me. I rushed up the stairs and out into the courtyard. I found Tam and Louise standing over a corpse. The axeman, if I was any judge, covered in gaping red wounds as well as a black-feathered arrow.

"I'm sorry, my lord," Louise said, "We only managed to shoot one of them." The sentries in the watchtower still covering the space with their own firelances, the spent weapons leaning against the ledge with smoke rising from their barrels.

"Never mind that. Ciara is seriously hurt, and I don't think it's over," I said, "Get the horses. Julie and Baron des Arbes are in mortal danger."

Tam's eyes stared at me for the briefest moment, before widening in horror. She ran in the direction of the stables. I let the empty magazine out of my firelance, and put a fresh one in, praying at a whisper to the Maker and God that we would make it in time.

* * *

Tam, Louise and I rode ahead on the same route I had taken during the Grand Convention; around the town walls and through the north gate. We couldn't find Armen to bring him or tell him what had happened, and I wasn't looking forward to that moment. I gave instructions to Mike and Velarana to round up everyone on the docks and any non-Orlesians, and their regiments were already moving to surround Hearth and guard the river.

The town was as bustling and busy as you'd expect from a place throwing all its energies into manufacturing and commerce, the north gate a bottleneck for carts moving raw materials inside and waste out to the trash heaps. People coming and going waved to me, and There was no sign of distress or unrest. I began to hope. The calm continued all the way through the streets of the Nobles' quarter, all the way to the gates of the Baron's palace, all the way to the door to the Baron's residence.

The distinctive sound of Julie's handcannon informed us that she had just killed someone, and was in the process of trying to kill a good number of other people. Fear and loathing crushing my heart, I kicked the doors down viciously. I found five dead guards in the foyer, blood seeping onto the smooth black stone. They were killed with wounds to the neck and back.

"Taken by surprise," said Tam knowingly.

More gun shots rang out. I paced forwards, just barely stopping myself from rushing forwards. No need to present myself for a throat-cutting by someone hiding in a corner, like had been done to the guards. The shooting continued. I moved along the hallway, glancing into the kitchens and storage rooms, checking every space. More handcannon noise. I counted all the shots I had heard in my head. Fourteen. Julie was down to her last shot.

We climbed the servants' stairs to the next floor, and down the corridor from the reception room, past the library, to the private dining room. The painted and gilded double doors awaited. As we got closer, a new, terrible sound greeted my ears. Loud, uncontrolled sobbing. I couldn't take it any more. I abandoned all pretence of clearing the place room by room, and ran forwards, shouldering the doors open. The sight that filled my eyes... The dying light of the day came in through the western windows, revealing the fine tapestries and statues of former lords. There was no darkness to hide the details or leave any doubts.

The dining room was a picture of butchery.

Almost a dozen corpses lay scattered around the space. Most were dressed as servants, though the presence of bloody daggers and knives by their sides and in their palms betrayed their true identities. Almost all were elves, which I found utterly bizarre. The cause of death was universal; gunshot wound. The reason why they had died that way was apparent.

Pierre and Cécile des Arbes lay on the ground beside one another, smashed plates at their feet by the round dining table. Their masks had been removed, revealing Pierre's grey eyes and Cécile's brown. Their throats had been cut, and each sported a wound on their chest through their hearts. Their hands and faces were bloodied. They weren't moving.

Neither were Leodor or Élodie. The loyal husband's arms and hands were sliced to pieces, defensive wounds. He had tried to defend the mother of his children. The deadly blow had been delivered into his temple, a bloody gash at the side of his forehead. Claire was still alive, but shaking wildly as she embraced the dead body of Élodie. I couldn't see the young mother's wounds then, but she had died of shock from multiple stab wounds to the chest and belly.

All this was nothing.

Julie sat on the floor, covered in blood and sporting defensive cuts to her arms too. She wept and sobbed, for in her arms were Antoine and Océane. Their eyes closed for the last time, their bodies still. Even with red blooms on their chests, soaking their silken clothes, they still looked perfect, like they might wake up again if you just shook them a little. Like Antoine would get up and say something commanding like his father. Like Océane would demand another picture of herself as a chevalier, dreaming of future glory.

But I knew they would never wake again. Julie's weeping told me that.

I dropped my firelance.

* * *

Pierre, Cécile, Antoine and Océane des Arbes; Baron, Baroness and heirs of Hearth, murdered by assassins dressed as servants using knives and daggers.

Camille Doucy and her three children, locked in their carriage three miles outside of their keep at Vindargent and burned alive.

Maurice de Villars, ambushed on the road in the company of his personal guard, died by an arrow through the heart, though he probably would have died of the wounds caused by the three other arrows.

That same day, all over the Dales, the nobles who had backed the revolution either died or endured very determined assassination attempts.

Of the other nobles that had been present to form the original alliance and create the Proclamation from the Dales, only Henri Clouet and Louise de Villars were alive. Some were brutally cut down, some had 'accidents'. Most died of poisonings. Clouet himself lost his capable and handsome second son to a poisoned cup of wine, only surviving as the young man had drank to a toast to the success of the war while he had not. The assassins were not found. Louise lost her uncle, more of a father really, and the revolution lost its most ardent noble supporter.

There were many less famous victims of this atrocity. Élodie and Leodor were far from alone. Relatives and friends of those intended to be killed fell victim too; poisoned, stabbed, bludgeoned. Maurice de Villars' guards died in combat. Servants to be replaced had been killed mercilessly too, their bodies disposed of in the most callous and convenient manners possible. We found no less than seven dead serving girls in the waste wagon of the Baron's palace. Similarly grizzly discoveries were made on the estates of many of our noble supporters.

Whoever had planned it all had aimed to destroy the unity of our movement in one fell stroke, believing that without the nobles to fund the cause and supply the bulk of professional fighters, we would be helpless, directionless, and weak. As you can probably guess, the Antivan Crows had done most of the work, though the House of Repose was also involved. We would get our revenge on both organisations in time.

My foresight in having Mike and Velarana close off the town and raid the docks provided some comfort. We didn't find the second hooded assassin, but we did catch three Antivans without good alibis. Including one elf who had one of Julie's 9mm bullets lodged in her arm. Not like you find a bullet from Earth inside of just anyone walking around. That was evidence enough for me. I organised a firing squad that night and had fifty of Soprano's Rangers shoot the bitch to pieces, and fed the pieces to the pigs. The other two would eventually be put on trial, and would hang some weeks later. Mercy was on no one's mind.

Another comfort was Ciara. Markham saved her life, and she was on the way back to her old self in very little time. Armen had been on a teaching exercise with some of the Libertarian apprentices, and was both horrified to hear what had happened and hugely grateful to Markham. The mage asked me to knight the healer. That gave me an idea. Tobias Markham became Ser Tobias Markham, Master of the Knights Hospitaller. Charged with the defence of the wounded and the creation of places of healing. I presented him with a banner of black with a white cross on it some weeks later, and assigned a small number of soldiers from each of our regiments to serve under him. Of all the things I did in the aftermath of this tragedy, I can be proud of only that.

Julie and Claire were a different story.

Tam and I took turns to be with Julie until the funeral five days afterwards, refusing to leave her alone. She wavered between white hot rage and quiet weeping. It took both of us to convince her to let Markham heal the gashes on her arms. She would smash things and pace about screaming curses, or huddle on our bed with her face in her hands. The only time this would stop for more than an hour was when she visited Claire.

The youngest Marteau sister was far more composed, but the reason for that was her new responsibility. Julie could not raise Élodie's infant children. The assassination attempts had made it plain that both Julie and I were targets. Claire made it perfectly clear that she would not accept Julie playing a direct role in the lives of Victoire and Patrice. Visits were to be in the company of a full platoon of McNulty's Grenadiers. Julie understood, accepting the distance required to keep them all safe while she fought the war. She cried hardest after returning from hearing that. As you can imagine, Tam and I were very worried she would harm herself. Leha's brief presences were the only respite we got, as Julie seemed to rally when the dwarf came calling. A groundless worry, but we held her close all the same.

In truth however, it was our enemies who needed to worry now. They had failed.

* * *

The mass funeral was held in a large field to the north west of Hearth in the early morning. Our parade ground was large enough, but it was full of carts and horses. The space to hold the huge numbers people whom had come to pay their respects was taken up by the preparations of the war. If I had to put a number on how many had come, I would have to say that there were a hundred thousand at least.

All the victims were brought together to go to the next life as equals. No distinctions of class or race were made, they were arranged in a great circle of pyres. Only Antoine and Océane were honoured more greatly, but only as they were children. Their pyres stood in the middle.

Julie, Ciara and I stood on a platform, Tam and Leha were in front of us, swords out. Alongside us were two groups. Louise, now wearing her uncle's skull shaped mask, led the other colonels; Armen, Mike, Soprano, McNulty and Velarana. Grand-Cleric Brandon was at the very edge of the platform, accompanied by Knight-Commander Barris. She would be the one to put into words our grief and rage. Julie and I had refused, and Ciara could not raise her voice yet.

The cleric stood up before the pyres were lit, and led the faithful in the customary chant. For the first time, I participated, Lana's lessons having done their work. After that was done, Brandon took the hat off her office off of her head, unfastened the jewellery associated with her office and let it fall to the ground.

She began projecting her voice.

"Children of the Maker, citizens of Free Orlais, today we send the innocent to join Him, in Andraste's Light.

Innocents taken from us by thieves in the dark, cowards who would not face the light openly, but used gold to buy the deaths of their enemies. Long has this plagued our country. Dishonesty, avarice, pride, envy and sloth, these are what have ruled our people. The call to exorcise these demons, to revolt against those who welcome them, was answered by all good men and women throughout this land. Free Orlais has grown strong and fearless!"

There was silence. Brandon's voice grew angry. It was entirely genuine to my ear. Not the posturing of a preacher looking for power, but the voice of someone who had seen the intolerable.

"And what has been our reward!

Murders so foul that we cannot think without inviting them into our dreams! The slaughter of children! Nobles and commoners alike killed in ways that no person should be! Killed at their tables, killed on the road, killed in their homes, killed in their beds, killed even under the Maker's roof in their chantries! Throats cut, cups poisoned, carriages set ablaze, arrows loosed. Madness unleashed!"

There was a roar of rage from the crowd.

"And even now, others plot to kill us. To the north, our brothers and sisters are killed in the streets for their beliefs, for their thirst for liberty. These pious souls have no protection from the thugs and murderers sent to destroy them. Still further, we have friends and family in every city and region of Orlais, and in every place, dark forces move to crush their spirit."

Movement in my peripheral vision caught my attention. A large number of clerics and pages were moving to the pyres from the edge of the crowd. I squinted to see what they were doing, and found that they were carrying banners. Not ours, there was no red or white on them, but purple and blue ones. I frowned, wondering what the hell they were up to at such a time.

"Where have the leaders of our Empire been while this happens? What have Celene and Gaspard done to protect us?!

Nothing, and perhaps worse! We still do not know who is responsible for murdering our honoured dead, but it is certain that neither the Empress or the Grand-Duke are friends of ours! Neither has stirred one inch to support us! Neither has declared themselves for liberty and justice in the face of corruption! Both are guilty through apathy! The Maker made them our rulers to protect us, and they have failed!"

The clerics began lighting the pyres, and unravelling the banners. I recognised them at once. The golden face on a purple background, and the golden lion on blue. The sigil of the Valmonts, and the symbol of the Empire. The pyres began burning very brightly.

"We shall burn away the corruption, we shall defeat ALL those who stand in our way!"

I watched as the bodies began to be consumed, only to find that the clerics and pages were tossing the banners into the flames too. I stood stunned as the fire licked and ate the cloth, consuming the golden faces and lions, turning them black and then into nothing.

I glanced at Julie, to see if she had an explanation.

I found her face blank, but her eyes as deeply ablaze as the pyres. She had ordered the royal banners burned, I realised. I looked away to find Tam, Ciara and Armen staring at me, wondering if I had known. Only Leha continued looking at the flames, and I knew from her face how the arrangements had been made.

Mother Brandon delivered the fateful conclusion.

"This land has no rightful Empress, no rightful Emperor! Only government of the people, by the people, for the people! One Nation under the Maker!"

The crowd rumbled their assent wildly, crying and wailing their grief and shouting for vengeance and justice. Elves and humans alike, united.

"Liberty or Death!" Brandon finished. The crowd screamed the words back as one, chanting it. Julie joined in. So did Ciara. So did Tam. So did Armen. The words graced even Leha's lips.

I found myself screaming it too.

* * *

 _AUTHOR'S NOTE: The lullaby at the start of this chapter actually exists as a song, made by a Youtuber named totalspiffage under the same name._

 _I had to get this chapter out of my head, so I stayed up all night and wrote it up earlier than I planned to. It's a particularly important domino to fall, and leaving it stand in my mind was entirely unsatisfactory._

 _ **Katkiller-V:** In the words of Omar; "Oh, Indeed"_

 _ **Drgyen:** You could say that. You're right about one part of that._

 _ **5 Coloured Walker:** Dante's only just started walking._


	31. Chapter 31: Maleficent

**Chapter Thirty-One: Maleficent**

The Army of Free Orlais marched out of Hearth two days after the funeral at full strength, twenty thousand strong. August sun blazing, humidity at full tilt. Their hearts equally ablaze. I watched their faces as they marched out of the north gate and onto the newly expanded road heading to Halamshiral. It wasn't hard to decipher their feelings. Once the crowds of wellwishers and families disappeared at the gate, eyes kept themselves on the road ahead and the pace was brisk. The families cried but my soldiers didn't. Everyone knew what was now at stake.

Grand-Cleric Brandon's eulogy for the murdered souls had said that Orlais had no rightful ruler except one chosen by the people. Now it was up to us to prove that. By force, no less.

Before what has come to be known as the Day of the Long Knives, the plan was that we would march on Halamshiral, move east to take Jader, and fight to defend what we had from that point onwards. Things had changed however, and we had some sense of how events would play out. News travelled extremely slowly by my standards, so we could not know for sure, but even we could guess the reaction of the not-insignificant number of nobles that had favoured our cause. Fearing similar treatment, they would not raise their armies and their vassals in support of our cause.

Whoever had attempted to kill the entire leadership of Free Orlais had essentially stamped the fires of revolution out everywhere except in the eastern Dales. The embers still burned, as the killings had perhaps been the most effective propaganda victory we ever could have had in terms of proving our point about the corruption of the Empire, but no one had the stomach to face such savagery. Not when it struck from the shadows. Had we the diplomats and envoys worthy of the name, perhaps we could have reignited fervour for our cause, but we didn't and everyone who could have filled out such a role was dead. In fact, I think it is fair to say that diplomacy was where we were weakest even before the murders.

So, our strategy changed. Our only means of regaining the chance to gather all patriotic Orlesians under one banner was to march to where they were. We would still march on Halamshiral, to gain the manpower of the hugely supportive population there. We would still march on Jader, not only to liberate it but to capture the bulk of the Royal Fleet, or at least deny the use of the extensive harbours there. After that, we would follow the Imperial Highway to Lydes, Verchiel, until Montsimmard. With the Dales and south coast of the sea entirely under our control, we would cut through the Heartlands of the Empire to Val Foret and onto Val Royeaux itself. Each city to act as a domino that would tip the scales further in our favour.

It was a plan not without its problems from the outset. Commoners outside of the Dales were largely unexposed to our principles. _Le Sens Commun_ was widely read only among the nobility in other regions. That meant we would have to rely on the nobles who believed as we did, at least at first. Going via the land route instead of striking directly at Val Royeaux by sea was also a risk, as it gave the royalists time to organise. Not that I believed we had a choice anyway. These were the obstacles we thought we would face. Our expectations were wide of the mark.

The newly named _Assemblée Nationale_ approved the plan by a huge majority at the behest of Julie and Ciara, both worried that its ambition might provoke cold feet later on. For which I would be blamed if I opposed pushing it. With the strategy effectively becoming a law of the land, there could be no stopping its implementation. Liberty or Death was now national policy.

Things did not go anything like according to plan.

* * *

I took the Peacekeepers ahead of the main force, and we gathered another five thousand volunteers from the militias that had been organising since the beginning of the year. We rejoined the army at Gethran's Crossing, the formal border between the Dalish Crownlands and the Dalish Hearthlands. Where our new roads met the older, less well maintained ones. The town itself was deserted, unsurprisingly, save for the elves who swiftly signed on to join us. Ciara even recognised a few of them, and the look on their faces when she rode up with two chevalier bodyguards behind her was utterly priceless. The Vice-Chancellor wasted no time in dismounting to greet them with hugs. A politician without realising it.

We made camp a day's march from Halamshiral itself, the army mostly exhausted from the forced marching. Even our horses needed a rest. The exact place was decided for us by fate. The entire trip had been like a voyage into the past, filled with nostalgia. We had went by the forest where we had fought the sylvans, the hilltop where once upon a time we had fought Ser Milo Duval, the place by the river where Julie, Tam and I had first made love, and of course Gethran's Crossing itself where we had first met Ciara. So, when I recognised another stretch of the road as my army became weary with the evening closing in, I called the halt for the night and set camp in the rolling oak forest.

I had my commanders and a few others summoned to us, along with a guard of honour. Soprano, McNulty, Mike, Velarana, Louise de Villars, Barris, Markham, Valle, Grand-Cleric Brandon, and Henri Clouet. When they had gathered, along with a platoon of Grenadiers, I led everyone into the forest along the foot of a familiar cliff-face.

To the crash site.

The dragon's remains were long gone as you can imagine, the bones taken away for sale or display. The head was taken to Val Royeaux for study, incidentally. For a moment, I thought the helicopter had been taken too. A few burned trees still stood as evidence of the events that had occurred at the place, but the rest had grown green again.

"Where is it?" I thought aloud, pacing ahead of the group, taking off my beret.

"Where is what, my lord?" Mike said.

"I have to admit Sam, this is one of the stranger things you've done," McNulty added, "A war council in the middle of the forest?"

"I don't think that's why we're here," Soprano replied.

"Almost certainly not," Velarana said.

I ignored them and started searching for the cave as a reference point to find my way. Meanwhile, the clamouring over what I was up to continued behind me. I largely ignored it, until questions started being directed elsewhere. It was Barris who got straight to the crux of things, sharp as he was. I listened as I moved.

"Madame-Chancellor, do you know why we are here?" Barris asked.

Julie laughed, joined quickly by Armen and Tam. None of them said anything. It was almost enough to drown out Leha's grumbling response.

"Care to share?" the dwarf asked.

"Patience," Tam warned, "He'll get there eventually." Meaning that she had spotted what I was looked for already. I turned around and raised my eyebrows, looking for a hint. Sure enough, I got a tilt of the head towards an overgrown patch. I could have kicked myself once it was pointed out. A very helicopter shaped bush was about twenty yards from me, among slightly smaller bushes.

"Colonel Velarana, Armen, a little help here?" I asked, "Otherwise we'll be here all night."

The mages stepped up. Armen swung his spear-pointed staff off of his back. He pointed it at the flora surrounding where I needed to go. A gout of flame spat from the tip, and he swung the effect from right to left, the dry growth completely in flames. When that was done, Velarana spun her own, more intricate staff above her head, before holding it steady. A micro-blizzard ripped through the fire, extinguishing the flames and tearing the remains from the soil. An impressive display of magic, though I had to cover my eyes to stop dirt from flying into them. When the dust settled, the path to the helicopter was clear.

The others went completely silent as I began slicing and pulling vices off the hull of the flying machine, revealing its painted metal skin. What's more is that it looked like it hadn't been touched by the weather at all.

"I don't understand," I said to Armen, "It hasn't been damaged or rusted... anything?"

"Everything touched by the Fade reacts differently," the mage replied with a shrug, "It seems materials from your world don't degrade naturally." I looked to Velarana for confirmation.

"It stands to reason, if you cannot be harmed by magical means," she agreed, "Living creatures are naturally connected to the Fade on Thedas. You repulse the fluidity of the Fade, breaking the alternative realities it creates. Perhaps your materials do the same thing, existing here but not affected by the alchemy of our world."

That sounded less plausible, but I wasn't a scientist and neither was Velarana.

"This is from your world?" Brandon asked, "What is it?"

I stopped clearing the foliage and turned to the crowd.

"This is the flying machine that took me here," I replied, before calling to the sergeant of the platoon with us, "Grenadiers, a little elbow grease is needed over here."

The huge men and women circled the group of commanders, over the warm and lightly wetted ground. The helicopter was stripped of greenery in no time at all, though the soldiers slowed down as more and more of it was revealed. The dull green paint hid the profile of the thing well when complemented with vines, but the shape revealed itself. I undid the twists of vines from the partially broken blades on top myself.

The eyes of most of those present were wider than I had ever seen, and the exceptions were notable too. Markham did nothing except raise his right eyebrow so high, I thought it might fly off. Soprano maintained her usual cool, although she moved ahead of the others to get a closer look. The Grand Cleric couldn't decide whether to stare at the machine or look at me in reverence. I couldn't help but smile at their reactions. Many were on the fence about whether or not I actually came from another world, Fade powers or otherwise. This essentially put that question to bed.

Of course, my own family had no qualms about going further than that.

Julie led Ciara and Leha by the hand to the rear ramp, and with a little tinkering, managed to get the thing open. The interior was exactly as I remembered it; stripped of pretty much anything of use and entirely undamaged by the ravages of time and exposure, other than a little dust. The event that took me to Thedas played in my head. I remembered being wreathed in liquid green lightning, the forces acting on my body and the helicopter itself. I could not help myself. I climbed into the hull, walked down to near the cockpit, and took one of the 'gunner' seats facing rearward. The same one I had sat in when I had arrived. I played with buckling in, but stopped myself as the high and mighty of Free Orlais followed with curious stares.

Everyone sat down, as if to listen. I remained silent. I wasn't sure how to start, and the utterly bizarre sight of medieval nobles and peasants dressed in a strange mix wasn't helping matters at all. But I hadn't selected my subordinates for their deference, that's for sure.

"You have brought us here for a reason, my lord," Soprano said, speaking for the group, "Do you want to tell us what it is?"

I opened my mouth to speak, and closed it again. I needed permission.

"Julie, Tam, can I tell them a little about what we were thinking when we first met?" I asked.

They looked at each other. We hadn't really told anyone about our own experience in Halamshiral. We had agreed wordlessly that the events of the night when the mages rebelled were a secret to be kept at all costs. We had to maintain the fiction of how we had come together for our own protection. That was still the case to a large extent. We didn't need unproven criminal charges ruining part of our credibility. I wasn't going to tell the whole story, simply a part of it.

In the end, Tam gave a quick nod and Julie went along with it. They trusted me. I smiled, and turned back to the audience.

"I'm sorry, I had to ask," I said, "I was riding this helicopter... this flying machine on my home world, when it was taken. Maybe you don't believe that flying machines are possible, but here it is. I wish we could get it to work, but I'm afraid that is beyond even the talents of Julie at this point."

I paused.

"When I first met Julie and Tam, we talked about escaping back to my world, to Earth," I continued, "I thought flying machines like this one would descend from the skies, my countrymen and our allies would disembark, and take us away from Hearth and everything else. I guess I felt like the conquering hero, taking two beautiful maidens away from the darkness."

Smirks appeared, which raised my spirits a little.

"It was a dream and nothing more," I said.

"Why?" asked Velarana, "If you came via the Fade, surely there is some way to return?"

"I have it from two very reliable sources that it's essentially impossible," I replied.

Leaving out the fact that it was information from a Tevinter magister and a dead woman's spirit. Tiberius had watched another Earthling search for a direct way back for twenty years, helping him the entire time. No joy. The alternative, entering the Fade and searching there, was pure folly. The Fade is quite literally endless, and the Baronetess' spirit had shown me that the portal from Earth essentially hovered near the most inaccessible part of the Fade of all; the Black City itself. So, unless I sacrificed huge numbers of innocent people and had a flying machine of my own to bring with me, it wasn't happening.

Velarana's nose scrunched up, like she didn't agree with that assessment exactly, but she said nothing. No one else had any questions on that point.

"One of the reasons I've brought you here so that I can show you what is possible if we win this fight," I said, "Flying machines and weapons that can destroy whole armies are only the beginning. Disease, hunger, poverty, we can defeat or reduce them. But it's not going to be easy."

I stood up and walked past everyone, down the ramp and away towards the next destination. Everyone followed quietly, until we came to the headstones.

"I did not come to Thedas alone," I said, "These stones mark the graves of the soldiers that were with me. A dragon killed them in our first hour here. When it attacked, they didn't even flinch. They stood their ground."

I stopped.

"I guess the other reason I wanted to come here was to say I really wish they hadn't died," I explained, "We really could have used their help. This war is going to be unlike anything anyone has ever seen. I pray that it is short."

As most readers will no doubt be aware, it wasn't short. For most of those involved, at least.

"You idiot," Leha said suddenly.

"What?" I replied.

"We're going to win," she said, "It's sad that your friends died, but we don't need them. Look at the people here. We have exactly who we need."

I snorted with amusement and surprise. Leha Cadas, the cynical merchant, had just proclaimed her optimism in our cause. I felt I had to look up into the darkening sky to see if the moons would fall. The others broke their trance to looked pleased with themselves too, and I have to admit, Leha had a point. We had excellent warriors like Ciara, Louise, Soprano, McNulty, Mike, Barris even Leha herself. We had some of the most powerful mages Thedas ever knew in Armen, Velarana, Valle, and Markham. We had great leaders like Grand-Cleric Brandon. We had Julie and Tam, two people who were irreplaceable both in terms of their skill sets and as people dear to my heart. We had millions following behind because of these outstanding individuals, all of whom had contributed to the cause in unique ways.

"I guess we do," I admitted, "But I still wanted you all to see all this, before things get messy."

They all seemed to appreciate that, and shook my hand. I thanked each and every one of them, Tam and Julie with a kiss.

I alarmed them by proceeding to dig into one of the graves, to retrieve the weapons I had buried above Patel. Sooner or later, someone else would find out about the site and I had no intention of leaving useful weapons technology around for someone to discover. Once the hole I had made had been filled, I had the Grenadiers stand to attention and _Il Silenzio_ played. The Grand-Cleric did the honours of a funerary chant over the graves, which she very gracefully agreed to even though the dead hadn't been burned.

So, having said goodbye to my past life, we returned to camp and looked forward to creating a new one for Orlais, and perhaps even the world. How wonderfully idealistic we were.

* * *

We smelled Halamshiral long before we saw it. Even if our scouts hadn't told us the city was in the deep midst of rioting, the smoke began to rise from the north in the morning. The acrid scent blew on a strong northerly wind coming off the Waking Sea through the hill country that dominated the surroundings of the city. By the time we saw it in the late afternoon, I don't think things could have been worse.

I was with Tam, Julie, and Ciara near the front of our main column, when we crested the hill and finally laid eyes on the place.

"We're back," I said to them, bringing Bellona to a gentle halt at the top, moving to the side of the road to let the troops pass.

"Maker... look at the walls," Julie said.

Halamshiral's large, marble-sheathed walls were second only to Val Royeaux's own, in thickness, height and opulence. On that day in August however, they had gained some particularly unsettling accompaniments. Below them were thousands, perhaps tens of thousands, of people, huddling together with what I can only assume were as many of their belongings as they could carry. The reason why they were outside the walls was apparent. As much as a third of the city was on fire. And there were corpses hanging from the walls.

I examined all of this through my binoculars, my jaw clenched. The bodies weren't simply hung from their necks, they were suspended on meat hooks dug into the very flesh. Red stains smearing the white stone in lines testified that they had been alive when it had all happened. Most of the dead were elves.

"Fuck," I said, "We are too late."

I handed the binos to Ciara. She looked through for only a moment, before retching. She jumped off her horse and emptied her stomach on the ground. I wanted to apologise. She wasn't nauseous because of any lack of experience with death. It was our failure that made her sick.

"What now?" Tam asked, looking down at our Dalish friend with pity.

"Now we take the city," Julie said, brooking no disagreement, "And put every single noble not on our side on trial for treason."

Doubting that we'd get the chance, I frowned. Rather than vocalising the objection, I looked for our scouts.

"On the bright side, there's going to be money in buildings soon," Leha chirped happily, "And it looks like most got out fine. I'm not sure we could have expected anything better."

I gasped with outrage. Leha's profiteering was something else, but even for her, this was a bit callous. I gave her a dark glare to warn her, but I got a defiant stare and crossed arms back in response.

"Too far, dwarf," Tam said.

"Don't be ridiculous," Leha replied, "I guarantee you that the elves are trying to get in and burn the High Quarter to the ground right now. Maybe even succeeding. They give as good as they get, that's what a riot is, until one side gets the upper hand."

I turned away, not wanting to admit she had a point there.

"Where the hell are the scouts?!" I said, irritated by the lack of news, "No way I'm putting our people in until I know exactly what's going on."

Ciara coughed loudly and stood up. Knowing she'd need it, I handed down my water bottle. She nodded her thanks, and washed out her mouth before taking a gulp.

"Halamshiral wouldn't have needed to rise up if we had acted fast enough," she said, "But Leha is right. There are too many for the city guard and the chevaliers to kill."

I grunted my acknowledgement of her position, examining what other details I could see from where I was standing. The south gate, where Julie, Tam, Armen and I had escaped Halamshiral more than a year before, was open. What's more, it was a hive of activity. People came and went through the gate. It seemed to be mostly healthy people going into the place, and mostly tired and injured people coming out, the latter often in or pulling hand-carts.

They began to notice the army descending on them too, stopping what they were doing and pointing our way. My impatience was joined by the need to get a handle on the situation. With the inevitable duty falling on my shoulders, I nudged Bellona forward with the hope that maybe those outside could tell me more about what was going on.

We rode down the edge of the road and past where the army had been ordered to set up camp, on the lee of the hill facing the city, just outside the range of a longbow. It was swift going once we passed that mark, and our presence drew as much attention as you'd expect.

These were the same people, the same faces, I had seen when Julie, Tam and I had creeped our way through the streets with my flashlight, with one particular change. Rather than the disdain and fear at seeing humans, which had been all too obvious to me the year previous, the elves' eyes were open wide with interest and hope. That familiar pressure to perform to expectations itched at the back of my mind as I stopped dead in front of the throng, stunned. They searched me with their eyes.

It was a kid who spoke first.

"Are you the Roy?" a young boy asked loudly, pointing at me before his mother dragged him back into the crowd.

Julie flashed a smile at Tam, as if sharing a joke at my expense. I frowned at her, getting nothing but an amusing glint in her look back. She moved forward atop Revas, to address the crowd.

" _Bonjour Halamshiral,_ " she said, " _Je suis la Grande-Chanceliere de l'Orlais Libre. Qu'est-ce que il passe ici? Où sont les chevaliers du Comte?_ "

The elves of Halamshiral looked at each other in bafflement. Not that they didn't understand what was said. Many of them spoke Common of course, as many of them worked as servants at the royal court or in the houses of merchants and nobles. As in the fields, the mother tongue was Orlesian, the result of a longstanding attempt by the Chantry to bind the population to the faith.

The difference was that no noble _ever_ spoke to a servant in Orlesian. Orlesian was for private conversations, conversations that foreigners should not be privy to. If two Orlesians started conversing in their own language in front of you, it was a clear signal that it was not your business. Conversely, speaking exclusively in Common to foreigners and inferiors was a signal of superiority. So, despite Orlesian being their mother tongue too, servants were talked to in Common instead. Julie had just broke that convention blatantly and without remorse.

" _Le Comte est dans le Palais d'Hiver, avec ses hommes,_ " came the reply, " _Les patriotes attaquent la chausée maintenant._ "

Count Pierre d'Halamshiral and his guards had rather wisely decided to hole up rather than join the chevaliers in trying to burn the place down, although I had no doubts that the arsonists were eventually forced to flee to join him. That wasn't really what got my attention. The causeway connecting the city to the Winter Palace was perhaps the best defended approach to attack down, even if it wasn't really built to hold off a determined assault. Our fellow patriots were no doubt finding it hard to get anywhere near the place, having chosen that route of attack.

" _Le Vice-roi les rejoindra avec nos soldats,_ " Julie replied. Indeed, the Viceroy would be joining the fight.

* * *

The scouts returned with much the same information. The High Quarter, contrary to Leha's conceptions, had fallen first to the patriots, that whole part of the city given over to our side by supporters within the ranks of the merchants. The Starry Banner had been raised over the Chantry to signal that we were coming, and the merchants' plan had gone into action. Word was that was the reason the royalist chevaliers had taken to burning the city. Not many of the nobles were in Halamshiral at this time of year, and the chevaliers left behind to keep order were undoubtedly worried about doing anything less. Their asses were just as much on the line from their masters' wrath at their failure as from our bayonets. That was the good news.

The bad news was that causeway was a mess. The locals had charged the gates of the palace early in the uprising, even before the chevaliers had retreated inside, but had been handily repulsed by the archers guarding it. They tried again, using a little more smarts. The patriot leaders had gotten a few carts together, nailed tables to them, and tried to use them as shields to get the rioters close. The Winter Palace's walls were low enough to climb with ease. The carts were set ablaze and not by archers, but we'll get to that. So, the way was blocked not only by the presence of the enemy, but by the burning and charred wrecks of a dozen carts.

My response was pretty swift, if I do say so myself.

I put Soprano and Mike's troops into the town itself to restore order and take control of the situation. Leha had been right about one thing, the elves of the city weren't shy about spilling blood. Soprano found a large mob of them holding a show trial in the main market square of the High Quarter. Sobbing royalist nobles and merchants with their families had been stripped down to their small clothes, put on display, and the mob were deciding how best to execute them. The Colonel put a stop to that immediately, and the royalists were allowed to flee, an action that would later help us save many of our own supporters' lives.

Julie and Ciara went with the troops into the town, where they could the most good to get control and rally support. Armen, Tam and Leha remained with the refugees outside the south gate to aid the wounded and the sick, or in Leha's case, gather up labourers to clear the city streets. I took the rest of the army around the city walls against the Winter Palace directly, and there we found the first pleasant surprise waiting for us.

Along with Louise's Vice-Regal Guard and the elven lancers, I had rode ahead to lay eyes on what we were facing. I had expected to see the magnificent sight of the Winter Palace itself, guards along the walls and at the outer gate facing the Imperial Highway. I did see all that, but with the addition of a couple of hundred chevaliers _outside_ the walls.

A small pool of yellow feathers, blue and purple tabards, and horses, off in the distance underneath the white cliff of marble-faced rock. They were dismounted too, and didn't look like they were entirely ready to move out. My heart leapt, and I could barely contain myself as I reached for my binoculars again and peered down to get a better look. My hopes were affirmed, the royalists were not ready. I greeted the sight with a deep throaty chuckle that had many of my own chevaliers glancing my way as I turned Bellona about to speak to their commander.

"Louise, are you with me?" I asked with a smile. Blondie stared back, through her uncle's silver-grey armoured mask, the skull shape with blonde hair flowing from the back tilting slightly at the inquiry. It was almost as if her uncle's soul had merged with her own. She seemed so much more martial in that mask.

"Of course," she replied.

"Good," I said, "Take the Guard straight along the wall and into the bastards. I'll take the Lancers right and around them."

"Immediately, my lord," Louise stated, "Vice-Regal Guard! Form up!"

The chevaliers began to widen their column into two wide ranks, Louise moving to the very centre of the formation, followed behind by her standard bearer carrying her version of the Bonnie Blue Flag. Seeing as I didn't have much time before they would be going forward, I spurred Bellona to the gallop across the front of the growing line towards my destination.

"Glory to Orlais!" I shouted to them as I went, expecting the traditional response.

"Liberty or Death!" came the reply, shouted from five hundred noble throats, followed by the drawing of swords to presentation. Not very traditional at all. I probably shouldn't have been surprised, but I could not help myself.

The elven Lancers were watching our chevaliers intently when they noticed me, and sat straighter in their saddles. Unlike the chevaliers kitted out in chainmail-plate mix, they had the Earth-style round helmets and chainmail-leather armour vests in the same shape as my own kevlar. The nostalgia was practically as pungent as the smell of horse.

I smirked, and rode up to their commander, Major Isewen. Where my smirk promptly died. She was towering and athletic, especially for a she-elf, but had huge eyes framed by an attractive face. Unfortunately for any would-be loverboys, she had been in cahoots with Soprano since forever; they both sported what I can only imagine were gang tattoos, and she had a loose temper to boot. At that moment, she had kept her eyes on Blondie's chevaliers and a scowl on her face. This was the first time I would talk to her directly. Usually, the Lancers were under Soprano's direct command. So, I was a little apprehensive about saying the wrong thing.

"Major, we will be striking out to encircle the enemy," I informed her, politely, "Form up the Lancers for a charge." Her gaze didn't budge from Blondie.

"While the shems go in directly?" Isewen asked, in an urgent tone that told me she wanted to get stuck in first.

"Can't let them escape, can we?" I replied, pointing to the enemy before I realised something, "Down to my last three magazines. Fuck." For my handcannon, that is. During the course of the battles in the Emprise, I had been forced to use much of the ammunition for my sidearm. All that was left by Halamshiral were the three magazines on my own belt and the three on Julie's.

Whatever objection Isewen had to not charging headlong at the royalists disappeared with those words, and she looked at me with raised eyebrows, finally tearing her attention away from the rival regiment. The idea that they wouldn't have my firepower on hand to deal with nasty surprises wasn't a friendly one to many of the commanders. Most of them liked having me around, like I was a lucky charm, simply because I most often struck key blows against anything that might turn the tide against their units. Mages, surprise attacks, concealed archers... Isewen need not have worried, I still had thousands of rounds of five-five-six left, and a good handful of buckshot.

"Ignore that," I said when I noticed her, "Always can make more bullets. Eventually." Which was true. Eventually.

I didn't get the chance to see whether or not that soothed her doubts, as Blondie's standard bearer blew his cavalry trumpet, sounding the charge. The line of black clothed cuirassiers, for they were in mourning for the murdered, began advancing at a trot. I examined the enemy, just in time to hear the answering call of the royalist trumpets. That's the wonderful thing about chevaliers, they're so predictably honourable. Even better, they had abandoned a group that I had not noticed in their midst; mages and Tranquil in the charge of a small knot of Templars. I smiled Tam's vicious grin.

"Forward!" I ordered.

The Lancers moved behind as I advanced, watching our chevaliers and Celene's own move ever closer, at ever faster speed. By the time we were in position to charge ourselves, the clash had begun. The groups of mounted soldiers were weaving back and forth like two schools of fish, never merging, our black and silver versus their blue and purple. There were more of ours than theirs, of course, but that didn't mean I was going to take chances. To make matters a little more complicated, the Templars beyond had formed a line, while the mages and Tranquil behind them hurried desperately about wagons.

I worked out a plan in my head, weighing up how many I'd need for each task.

"Isewen, go help de Villars," I said, "Break off a platoon, they'll come with me."

"Yes, my lord," the Major replied, before whistling through her fingers and waving the nearest sergeant to me. The man, a very average looking elf except for his well built arms. Average Joe nodded once to me. I returned the gesture, the displaced air of Isewen's charge sweeping past my ear as another four hundred or so lancers went with her. Blondie's own chevaliers rallied to withdraw away from the direction of the charge, and to turn to join it. I wasn't sure if it would work, but I had my own task. I trusted Louise de Villars and Major Isewen both.

The remaining lancers formed up to either side of me, the sergeant to my direct right and the standard bearer carrying the flag of Free Orlais to my direct left. We trotted, ran, and galloped our horses directly at the Templars. They bristled with plate armour, but as is the case with that organisation, they were not equipped with long spears or polearms in general. A spear wasn't much use against a rogue mage, after all.

My most potent memory of our charge was the overwhelming sound of the thumping of hooves, right up until the moment we got on top of the enemy, at which point the noise was augmented by the continuous warcry of the fifty lancers to either side of me. It was positively invigorating.

Needless to say, plate armour is no match for a silverite-tipped lance moving at thirty to forty miles per hour. Most of the lances shivered in two after going through the Templars in question, but they had done the job. I myself used the handcannon, only possible due to the patience and tolerance of Bellona as a mount. Admittedly, it probably had more of a psychological effect than a physical one. Aiming accurately on the charge like that is very difficult. It didn't stop the Templars from backing off, only to be driven into ideal spots for dispatch by lance or mace; my weapons' reputations preceded themselves.

Once the Templar line had been crumpled of course, I became far more deadly. I cracked off round after round into the survivors with clinical calm, almost like I was target shooting. The faceless helmets do much to dehumanise the Templars, which I suppose is the point. I haven't seen them in my dreams, so I guess it helped me kill them without much further remorse. Unlike when I had been forced to kill those who didn't cover their face. I occasionally get visits from those assholes, and I'm still not sure whether or not they're spirits or my own mind playing tricks.

At a loss of twelve lancers, may God keep them, and two of my three remaining ammunition magazines, we completely annihilated the force of fifty or so Templars. To a man. No offer of surrender was given, and I very much doubt I would have accepted one, given that the Chantry _was_ on the suspect list where the atrocities of the recent past were concerned.

The summer soil was slick with blood, the air filled with coughing cries of dying Templars and the mixed iron-feces smell you get as a result of mass close-quarters death. Nasty. I turned about to order that we join the cavalry battle behind us, but found Louise and our chevaliers receiving the remaining royalists' swords in surrender. Their resistance had been a matter of honour, and once that matter had been proven, they had no qualms about laying down arms.

If you're wondering why we simply didn't make an example of those surrendering, it was because I ordered that all surrendering troops were to be kept alive. Truth be told, it was an unpopular order as the will of the soldiery to get revenge for the brutal murders of the nobles and their servants was there. But the damage to our cause would have been too great. Opposing soldiers would have fought to the death rather than throw down their swords like the chevaliers at Halamshiral had. The damage to our reputation would have been irreparable.

Blondie and Isewen had done well regardless. I was about to ride over to thank them, when I was interrupted.

"My lord..." the sergeant said warily. I turned to find him staring away, and wheeled Bellona around to track what he was looking at.

The mages were leaving the Tranquil behind and approaching rapidly. Not quite running, but moving towards us with their staves in their hands at a rapid walking pace.

I recoiled in surprise as the group came on, Bellona neighing at me in irritation for the sudden shift of weight. There were mutters of discontent from the troops too. I might be immune to magic, but the lancers still very much feared it. A quick glance confirmed the chevaliers had stopped moving to join us too. Worst, there wasn't much either could do against what had to be a hundred mages. I grit my teeth, the intentions of those approaching entirely alien to me.

"Sergeant, sound the retreat," I said, "Inform Colonel de Villars to have our artillery brought up."

"What about you, my lord?" Average Joe replied, getting the implication immediately that I wouldn't be there to order the big guns moved forward myself.

"The mages can't hurt me," I said, "Hopefully, they know it. Hand me the flag."

"Yes, Viceroy!" came the reply. With a wave of the hand, the flagbearer rode over and gave me our flag, and followed by giving a blast of trumpet to sound the retreat as ordered. The rumbling of hooves began again, growing distant with every second, and the robed figures ahead became more and more distinct as they came on. It had me loading the last of my nine millimetre rounds with zero hesitation. The Fade couldn't touch me, but a hundred pissed off guys could still beat me to death after killing my horse.

These were Loyalist Mages without a doubt too. Their robes were not the standard fare like Armen or Velarana was fond of. They wore ornate yet practical garb, many featuring embroidery that emblazoned the Chantry's fiery eye across their chests. They all held their staffs in a single hand, as the other was holding the hilt of a spirit blade, yet to be brought to life but ready to be made so at a breath's notice. The Loyalists always were the teacher's pets, allowed out of the Towers for liaisons with nobles and to prove their honour on the battlefield.

I very quickly came to the conclusion that the whole thing would come to further violence.

I considered dismounting and giving Bellona a slap on the behind, to get the horse away from it all. Despite her being essentially my main advantage once the mages realised that they couldn't blast me to death, she was like my right arm at this point. Part of me. That does explain a bit of what happened next, though I had to have the details filled in some hours later. In the end, I stayed mounted, counting on my legend to protect my steed. Naive to say the least.

The figure leading the mages caught my eye, as she picked her way through the Templar corpses without so much as looking down. The woman stepped straight out of a story book about evil queens. Absolutely impeccably dressed, from the clean leather boots through the pad-armoured dress uniform to the silver-plated hennin that made her look like a small Qunari. Though I doubt she would appreciate that last comparison. She was dark-skinned and stunningly beautiful, I made her to be in her mid-thirties. Unfortunately, she carried herself with a nauseating air I was very familiar with; aristocratic superiority. Between her appearance and her attitude, it was the first time I had seen a mage with such bearing. Not even Tiberius held himself in such regard, though as I have said, that man was an eccentric.

This was la Madame de Fer, Vivienne; First-Enchanter of the Montsimmard Circle. She had only been voted in as First-Enchanter a few weeks earlier. Our movement was moving things along faster than expected with regard to the Mage-Chantry conflict too.

Once we were at a distance at which we could speak over the sound of firelances and shouting echoing from the walls, she introduced herself as such. She paused, waiting for my reply. I gazed at her for a second, and at her mages as they stayed a good twenty yards behind her. Looking a lot more disturbed by the dead Templars than she did, I might add. I figured that keeping quiet would reveal her motives soon enough. Most nobles are like cartoon villains, they love to talk before a fight. Adds to the feeling that they're living in an epic poem, in which they're the protagonists.

I was right on the money. She stood, her arm on her hip, her staff propped against the ground to the side, staring at me, and spoke.

"You are Lord Hunt, Marquis de la Fayette, are you not?" la Madame de Fer inquired.

I frowned deeply. I knew provocation when I heard it. She had left out the more important titles pointedly.

"Viceroy of the Dales, Commander of the Free Orlesian Army," I added sharply, levelling my eyes at her once again, "Or haven't you heard?"

"Oh, I have heard, it simply doesn't matter," she replied, "The Empress shall send the _Royal_ Orlesian Army soon, and then there simply won't _be_ a Free Orlais. In fact, I very much doubt there will be any of the eastern Dales left either."

"You underestimate our weapons," I said with a sniff, "And the determination of our people."

"Meaningless before the sheer numbers that will be thrown at you," Vivienne replied disdainfully, "Qunari weapons cannot save you now." The disdain clearly originating from the notion that any southern human would cooperate with the Qunari. The Madame de Fer did not believe I was from another world. I found that strangely amusing, given her intelligence.

"The Qun has nothing to do with this," I said with more mirth, "Besides, our weapons make the Qunari look like they're using pointed sticks and they tried to drag me off to get them."

"That can only mean you are a fool that has succeeded in attracting the anger of two of Thedas' foremost military powers," she continued, "Though I cannot say you achieved this on your own. The commoner calling herself the High Chancellor has had just as much a hand in it, and the apostates of the Circle of Hearth might as well openly declare that they want anarchy."

Now it was my turn to pause before speaking.

"Has the cat got your tongue, Marquis?" Vivienne smiled.

My lips thinned. "I am just wondering whether you want me to shoot you," I said.

"I want you to try," the mage replied, her smile turning sour.

La Madame de Fer wasted no further time. With a wave of the hilt, her spirit-blade gleamed to life, while her staff strobed a deep blue. In a flash, she covered the distance between us, leaving the tell-tale ice trail behind her where the path of her Fade step had travelled. I sat helpless in the saddle, throat closing with fear and trying desperately to aim at her with my handcannon. She brought down her blade onto Bellona's neck in an overhand swipe, shouting with the exertion.

The blade struck my horse's skin, and shattered like it was glass.

Both Vivienne and I froze, amazed. The mage staring at the horse, which neighed again. I, staring at her, utterly baffled as to how her magic had been utterly useless. Against a horse. She snapped out of it before I did.

"But... how!" she said, taking a step back, "It is impossible." I thought it had been too, but her words took me out of my own racing thoughts. It finally hit me that she had the idea to kill me.

Without opening my mouth, I adjusted where I was pointing my handcannon and shot the Madame de Fer. She just had time to raise her barriers, doing so apparently by instinct alone, but it wasn't the sort that could deflect the attentions of a firearm for long. The first shot bounced away with a long ping, but the two immediate follow-ups struck her in the thigh and side. Nothing fatal, but more than enough to keep her busy until reinforcements arrived. She fell to the ground, soiling her fine clothes with blood, both hers and that of two deceased Templars.

I felt a little bad about the whole incident, particularly as in retrospect I knew she could have done nothing to harm me. Well, until I discovered she had a dagger on her the whole time, but those were the days when mages were all too reliant on magic for combat. The dagger was more likely on her for when she ran low on 'mana' or whatever the academics call magical reserves.

With their leader dispatched, seemingly dead from their perspective, the other mages were in the midst of a crisis of decision. No small number looked angry at what I had done. A similar number seemed fearful, like a nightmare had just stepped out of the Fade in front of them. Not willing to let them make the decision, as that would not have gone my way, I nudged Bellona forward to about half way between the mages and their leader, circling about on the spot a little so that they could get a good look at both the flag I was carrying and myself.

Finally, I pointed the handcannon at them.

"I am the Peacekeeper," I shouted to them, "Lay down your weapons."

The sound of trumpets and horns sounded again, announcing the arrival of Armen's Libertarians with Barris' Templars in tow. The Vice-Regal Guard and Lancers soon came into view too, riding around the back of the advancing mages, Julie and Ciara at their head. Our own Tranquil rolled around the walls of the city next, riding on top of the cannons and the ponies pulling them.

Convenient timing. I grinned to myself as the Loyalists dropped their staves immediately, followed by their spirit-blade hilts.

I heard the sound of movement behind me. Vivienne said nothing, struggling onto her feet again with the aid of her staff. I rode back to her, dismounted and helped her up fully. I am, after all, a believer in being magnanimous in victory.

"Easy, we'll get you healed up in no time," I said, "Looks like I've won again." Whatever distaste I had for the woman had been dispelled by the latter fact. She was now a prisoner of war, and quite a valuable one, though I had no clue just how valuable until later that night.

"We shall see, Viceroy," Vivienne replied, her doubts far less strong than they had been.

Needless to say, with the mages captured and the royalist chevaliers defeated, the Comte surrendered the Winter Palace to me without a fight. I thought my feeling of victory entirely vindicated. The mystery about how Bellona had managed to deflect a magical blade instead of being decapitated by it didn't bother me much. I simply assumed it was because I was too close for the magic to work properly.

I should have been more cautious about both issues.

* * *

 _AUTHOR'S NOTE: Apologies for the delay and any mistakes. Rolling edits to come. I was moving cities. And the GTA rental market is a cruel bitch._

 _So, the first city falls more or less without a hitch, but without the help of the elves within the walls, will it go so smoothly next time? Who knows._

 _ **5 Coloured Walker:** It's not quite an "Anyone Can Die" story, but yeah, people die._

 _ **Mireczek:** You'll have to keep reading to see._

 _ **Sovereign X22:** Cheers. _

_**Katkiller-V:** You have to remember that Julie has spent the better part of a year pushing her ideas, Sam's own reputation has grown immensely, and the Chantry figures in the region back them. That isn't to say there won't be trouble in the rear, but it does mean that the forces arrayed against Val Royeaux are following their new countrymen and not merely fulfilling a service to their now-dead lords. Of course, as has been said, the spread of liberal ideas has only gone so far._

 _ **Guest:** Assume away. But you'd be wrong. Sorta._

 _ **Guest (2): Hell Yes.**_

 _ **Shujin1:** I've answered you via PM, and already implemented some changes as a result of our conversation but I guess I'll long-and-short it here. I don't believe Sam has a hair trigger temper, nor apathy towards diplomacy or local etiquette (though I've made some minor changes). _

_I stand guilty on the writing point, but it is deliberate._

 _As I said in my message, I don't believe that it is a mystery why the three are together, and Tam's role as the moral and emotional support is supposed to be rather obvious. But, perhaps that was my author's perspective, given that I know the story better than you, the reader, does. So I made it more obvious. Again, through some minor changes._

 _ **Tusken1602:** Very glad to hear it, I hope you'll continue with it._

 _ **Suna Chunin:** More or less. Louise de Villars still commands her late uncle's considerable forces, including all of the patriot chevaliers. Henry de Clouet, although not really a general himself, he survived and still has a large force of his own._

 _The Orlesian Civil War was always three way. Celene, Gaspard and Briala._

 _What are you doing up the mountains?_

 _ **Jarjaxle:** Glad you liked it. _

_**Mr. Obama:** You should probably get back to running the USA, guy._

 _ **HK Target Shooter:** Cheers for spotting the typo._

 _ **YungMoolah:** I know you reviewed chapter 20, but the later chapters explain why._

 _ **Lord Mortem:** Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité, ou la mort._

 _ **Dac13:** That is extremely high praise. To the point that I invite all other readers to check out le monsieur's review, because daaaamn. Also, congratulations, you understand my approach to character in a way I don't think anyone else has thus far. Or maybe they have and haven't talked about it in a review. Either way._


	32. Chapter 32: Palace

**Chapter Thirty-Two: Palace**

The gates to the Winter Palace opened slowly, the whole magnificent building framed by the rolling hills behind and illuminated brightly by the evening sun. When the doors had finally swung as far as they could go, a formation of guards in parade order moved beyond them. The causeway was still a mess, but the debris had been pushed to one side at least and there were no bodies that I could see. The marble walls lining it were charred and the darker grey slate on the ground was covered with ashes and what could only be blood. Spent arrows rested in the mix.

As you can imagine, it wasn't the most encouraging sight. I sat atop Bellona at the city's entrance to the passageway, contemplating what I was seeing. The Comte d'Halamshiral had sent word of his intention to surrender, but that was meaningless as far as I was concerned unless the man was in front of me offering up his sword. He wasn't known as a significant military figure, he wasn't even a chevalier as far as I remember, but he did possess one of the largest military forces in Orlais. On paper. Support for our cause among the common soldiery of the Dalish Crownlands was ubiquitous. They would come over to our side in the next few days by the thousands. That didn't mean anything either. The Comte could still put a crossbow bolt into me and seriously damage our cause, or worse, kill Julie and end the revolution entirely.

I was entranced by the sight ahead, and didn't notice Tam come up alongside me. She pat me on the shoulder. I turned my head, finding her violet eyes examining the scene. When she had seen enough, she looked at me and flicked her chin towards the gate.

"Are you sure about this?" she asked gravely, "Maybe we should send the Guard in first."

I hummed my approval of the proposal, but spoke against it with no shortage of bitterness. "Can't show any weakness," I said, "I have to ride in there like the conqueror I supposedly am."

Tam snorted slightly, choking down her amusement at that concept.

"As you wish, _Arishok_ ," she said in jest.

I groaned my displeasure at _that_ comparison, and wheeled Bellona around. A few steps later, and I drew up alongside de Villars, to issue orders.

"Vice-Regal Guard will dismount and form a column" I said to her, "You stay mounted." Blondie gave a short nod, before wheeling her own horse around to address the patriot chevaliers. She bellowed a repetition of my command, and her nobles slid off their horses with a grace, like they had been born in the saddle. The horseboys quickly removed the mounts. The chevaliers drew their swords and rested them on their shoulders, drawing together in close ranks. They looked to me as something like a giant spiked caterpillar. An angry one, too.

Julie, Ciara, Armen and Leha rode around the corner from the marketplace, after having spent the time between our victory on the field and that moment talking to angry elves about letting the royalists go free. I would have told them that murdering people in cold blood is wrong and they shouldn't do it, but Julie apparently promised to try the nobles that remained. There was no shortage of confusion over why chevaliers were fighting with the Free Army either, but Ciara managed to smooth that over. Regardless, Julie led the group, a blank look on her face as she regarded Tam and I. A look that had become familiar since the assassinations.

"Have they tried anything?" she asked with urgency. She was almost relishing the prospect that she'd have the excuse to kill the Comte. It was getting to the point that she didn't care who had ordered the murders, and that any noble not on her side was guilty.

"No, they've just opened the gates," I replied, "Our turn."

"What are we waiting for?" Ciara said, with a wave of her hand, "Let's do it."

"I still say it would have been better to let us do the honours," Armen cut in, "Less chance of it going wrong."

"Except everyone has seen magic before," I said, "No one has seen what we're about to do. Yet."

"Can I send the signal?" Armen asked.

"Do it," I said. Keeping the Comte waiting seemed like bad manners, regardless of whether or not he wanted us dead.

Armen raised his staff over his head and a bolt of lightning burst from it, the light moving from its tip to the dry moat below the causeway. The thunder accompanied it was deafening, making me rub my ear a little as it echoed off the walls and hills back to us. Short of more radio receivers, it was pretty much the best we could do where signals were concerned. Those it was meant for got the message.

About a kilometre away, on top of a hill overlooking the north eastern part of the wall surrounding the palace itself, our Tranquil gunners began to make their own thunder. The cannons flashed, the sight of the smoke and the bolts reaching us before the sound. By this point, we had about forty field guns and two of the big siege pieces. They all targeted the same section of wall nearby the Chantry.

The Winter Palace was not designed to withstand a siege. In fact, its defences were basically designed to keep out what it had faced hours before; rioters. As well as the occasional Avvar barbarians lacking siege weapons. Trebuchets would have brought down the walls in a couple of hours. Our cannons brought them down in minutes. Three volleys to be exact. Each volley reaped a rocky crunching sound that boomed past us. The first stripped the section of its white marble sheath, the second mangled the structure into a stack of broken pieces, and the third toppled the whole thing over.

I smiled a little, pleasantly surprised by the speed by which we had achieved it. The walls weren't all that tall, but they had looked pretty wide to me. Turns out half of the construction was in marble, stripped from old elven buildings that had used the stuff entirely. I was not an engineer, such things were a mystery to me generally. The Tranquil began mounting up their cannons to their ammunition carts again, and rolled away, escorted by the lancers.

With the walls breached, the Comte could now surrender with honour. All we had to do was go talk to him, and accept his sword.

"Leha, Ciara, you ride with me," Julie began, "I think it's best if the treasurer and vice-chancellor help me do the honours, rather than the soldiers. Sam, Tam, keep back." She turned Revas to proceed down the causeway without us.

That wasn't going to happen on my watch. I gave a tug on the reins and clicked my tongue, sending Bellona into a fast trot ahead of Julie and the others, before putting the horse in their way.

"No," I said.

"No?" Julie asked back.

I wanted to plead with her to understand her own importance, that she was in constant danger and shouldn't go in without an escort. That wouldn't have flown with her though, and my mind raced to come up with an alternative. I took far too long, giving away the game entirely and getting a frown for my trouble. Luckily, I wasn't completely at a loss.

"The Comte isn't a royal, right?" I blurted out.

Julie, Tam and Ciara all looked at me like I was mad, eyebrows raised. Leha and Armen didn't react at all.

"No, he's not," Julie said, "So?"

"So it would be inappropriate for you to meet him," I continued, "You're of a higher rank than he is."

There was a pause. "I don't see your point," Julie said.

"Let Ciara come with me, along with the Vice-Regal Guard," I said, "The Comte can surrender to her instead." Sorry Ciara, but if you died, the revolution would live on.

Julie tapped her chin with her forefinger, her eyes raised to the heavens. Slowly, a beaming smile spread across her face, and her emerald irises returned to me.

"That would humiliate him," she said with relish, "I like it. Ciara, go with him."

Our vice-Chancellor nodded with a smile of her own, and trotted ahead of the pack. I motioned to Louise to have the chevaliers move, and fell in behind Ciara as we navigated the debris and ashes. Tam came with, not content to let either Julie or I get into harm's way without her being able to get between whatever it was and ourselves.

I fixed my beret firmly onto my head, and we approached the palace. It loomed over us, the nearest thing to a skyscraper that Thedas had to offer outside of the Tevinter Imperium.

Ciara rode through the gate at a half-gallop, and around the large waterfalls, threading through the line of guards that watched intently. I winced. That would have been the perfect moment for the ambush, if it was coming. No crossbow bolts thummed through the air, and I had to consciously start breathing again as I myself passed the threshold. Tam and Louise came next, drawing up along side me, and finally, our patriot chevaliers in black.

On the steps to the first level of the wedding cake that was the palace building stood Pierre Montclair, Comte of Halamshiral. He was dressed in the royal colours, save for his enamelled mask, which was in his own white and black colours. He was entirely average in stature. Not tall, not short, not thin and just overweight enough so you'd know he was a noble, not decked out in jewels like a Persian like so many of his contemporaries yet wearing his badges of office. His stock went up in my books.

He moved towards us, six bodyguard chevaliers joining him. One of them, the largest, handed him a longsword with a golden, jewel-encrusted basket handle. He drew the blade, revealing it to be dragonbone. Which made it more expensive than our entire château, in all likelihood. Only reason I knew at all was the dragon fangs I still had tucked away in our basement. Dragonbone could only be worked into blades by a very small number of masters. Far easier to make bows out of it, incidentally.

Montclair grabbed the sword in deep purple gloves, dragonling leather if I was any judge, and offered it up to me handle-first.

"Lord Hunt, I offer you my surrender and the city of Halamshiral," he said in restrained Orlesian tones, "I ask only that my soldiers be shown every courtesy."

"Lord Montclair, your soldiers will be spared except for those who participated in atrocities," I said, before pointing to Ciara, "And you're to offer your sword to the vice-Chancellor."

The Comte's mask swivelled towards our Dalish friend, who was loving every second of it, and back to me. "Lord Hunt, I do not mean to offend you, but... she is..." he said, hesitant.

"She's an elf, yes," I said, completing his complaint for him, "You've probably noticed that most people in the Dales are elves." Well, in the eastern Dales anyway.

"If I surrender to her, I will be dishonoured in the Imperial Court," he said, "I may never recover my position."

"Comte, your position is already lost," I snarled, "And by the time we're finished, there may not be an Imperial Court."

The Comte froze. The prospect hadn't even occurred to him. Rebellions in Orlais were rarely so ambitious. It didn't help that he was a cautious person with very little venom in him. I glared down from the saddle, putting God's own fear into him.

"My lord, are you a royal?" Ciara said, breaking the deadline.

The Comte looked at her like she was a dog who had just answered a calculus question.

"I have some degree of royal blood, yes," he answered, "But I am several generations removed from the ancestor that sat on the throne."

"High-Chancellor Hunt will meet only with the Empress, and you are not her," Ciara continued, drawing out her speech in a way that made her accent more neutral, "Surely a man of education such as _you_ can understand that." Dropping hints like atom bombs. He was to consider himself of a lower standing or consider himself dead.

The Comte flinched. He was being offered an out. Or so he thought.

"Yes, I can," he said, "It would be unseemly for someone of her... rank to deal with a surrender."

He moved to Ciara, and she accepted the sword with a small bow. She played with it a little, watched by the Comte and his guards, before motioning with her free hand for the scabbard, which was handed over as well. The guards marched forwards, and began stacking their arms in front of us. With nervous glances at me. Once again, I found myself frowning at the sheer weight of my reputation.

Regardless, Halamshiral was ours.

* * *

Unlike some of our other victories, this one was not celebrated as loudly.

You might think that strange given how much we had won with so little expense of blood. There was simply too much weighing on everyone's mind. You could smell it. The air felt more like water, requiring more effort to move through yet your own weight seemed lifted in part. It was the end of the world as we knew it, and everyone was acting accordingly. Only with the fall of Orlais' second city had everyone come to realise it.

I was the only person in a relatively good mood, aside from Leha, which was why I noticed so easily.

The two of us oversaw the occupation of the Winter Palace in its entirety with raised spirits. The residential wings, usually reserved for nobles, were turned into a hospital wing. There was more than enough left over to house our officers and those who had been with us since the very beginning, a privilege both groups extended to their entire circle of friends or even their entire units, most having no need or experience with such huge amounts of space. The rest of the army was housed in the little town surrounding the palace within its walls. The inn saw a good amount of business, that's for sure. Just not rowdy business.

Beyond that, I had a watch placed on the walls of the city and the palace itself, artillery guarding the latter's gates and the hole we had made ourselves, and that was it for the first day.

Leha and I found ourselves in the empty ballroom, where a few years later history would be made in rather spectacular form, in the middle of the dance floor. We hadn't really decided what we were going to do with this space. There was no point putting anyone in there, and it was up two flights of stairs, useless for storing anything. I was quite impressed with the space. Its marble floor shined to perfection, chandeliers gleaming in the evening sun pouring out of the windows facing west, elegant drapery framing each portal to the outside. The sort of room I would have expected from a palace that had stunned me for its opulence at first sight. And now that it was in our hands, it could be put to a useful purpose. If we could think of one.

"Prisoners," Leha mused aloud, waving her tablet with wax for writing on, "If we're going to keep them for more than a day, we need somewhere to put them."

Just a little disappointed at her lack of vision, I scoffed at the notion.

"You see a beautiful thing, and you want to ruin it with the shit of chevaliers and mages," I said flatly, "Do you see any privy around here? The prisoners will die of dysentery and it'll smell worse than a pigsty."

Leha recoiled with indignation. "By the Stone, it was just a suggestion," she replied, "What do you care if this place is ruined anyway? It's replaceable... though I wouldn't pay for it." The woman was surprisingly utilitarian, especially when it came to saving money better spent on drinking and whoring.

"It's history, Leha, and I've walked through too many ruined pieces of history to treat this place like just another set of walls with a roof," I said pointing at her, "Hang our flags off of this, and the entire world will take note. The Emperors built this, we took it. What we do with it will matter."

"I think they're more likely to take note if we hang our flag over the piled corpses of our enemies," Leha retorted, "But since we're well on the way to doing that, I guess I can't complain."

I nodded my agreement with that, the least I could admit. We still had not fought a major battle with the royalists, and I had spent some thought on the campaign against Jader to come. Supply lines for some key materials were something we were going to have to consider soon, with the war disrupting the roads westwards. Jader was key to that.

"So, do you have any ideas for this then?" Leha asked, "Since you're so happy to throw mine away."

I shook my head. "Nothing great springs to mind," I said, "If we win, we won't even be using it for a victory party. Not enough space." Optimistic of me, you probably are saying to yourself.

"I'll put it down for parties anyway," she said, moving a stylus over her wax tablet.

The sound of boots knocking against the floors echoed from beyond, announcing the arrival of Julie and Tam. Earth boots and all. They spoke as they came down the stairs from the entrance to the dance floor.

"See, this is perfect," Julie said, "Enough space."

My right eyebrow raised.

"Looks like it," Tam replied, "They need to go somewhere." They meaning the prisoners, I thought.

"Now hold on a minute, I've already had this conversation," I interrupted, "We're not putting the prisoners in here, it wouldn't be right."

Both Tam and Julie looked down at me, halting their movement at the middle section of the stairs.

"What are you talking about?" Julie said, "We're putting the Assembly in here, not the prisoners."

I threw my head back and nodded, holding my hands up in apology.

Tam hopped the last few stairs and came to me. "Is everything okay?" she asked, "You seem a little on edge." Her instincts spot on as usual.

"Just worried about what's going to happen," I replied, pinching the bridge of my nose, "We have to make every move exactly right." Or else.

"Speaking of making a move..." Julie said, joining us, "Have you talked to _la Madame de Fer_?"

"Markham is seeing to her right now, with Barris hovering around too," I said, scratching my chin involuntarily, "No doubt the healer will have words for me, guarding a patient so closely."

"She's a prisoner," Tam stated flatly.

"And Markham doesn't give a shit," I said, "At least I know I gave him the right job. No one can doubt our intentions if _he's_ the one leading a new order of the Chantry."

Tam hummed in agreement, undoubtedly thinking of the time when we both watching Julie go to the very edge of death, saved only by Markham's perseverance and the blood magic of Tiberius. The man was utterly unyielding when it came to such things.

"It would be nice if he was a little more efficient about using our healing supplies," Leha bitched, drawing our glares before she clarified, "I mean, it's okay to be using them on our own people, but that mage is throwing just as much at the injured chevaliers."

"If that's true, I'm not comfortable with it," Tam added, "Chevaliers aren't any real use to us alive." The royalist ones, at any rate.

"We keep them alive, and the chattering _fils de putes_ elsewhere start to think maybe we aren't savages and peasants," Julie replied bitterly, "It's the same reason why aren't burning this place to the ground."

"I thought you wanted the Assembly in here?" I asked.

"I do. Tam and Armen convinced me it was a much better use of such a place," she said, waving her hand to the chandelier above, "Tomorrow, after Halamshiral has chosen its representatives, we shall meet here and rename it. The _Palais de la Liberté._ "

Our High Chancellor let those last words hang in the air. Her eyes moved over the opulence of the room around her. At last, they came to rest on me.

"Isn't that wonderful?" she said, with a small smile.

I thought it was, because she thought it was. Julie would remember the idea, later.

* * *

I spent the rest of the evening in war council with my colonels, laying out my plan for Jader. We needed to take the city within forty-eight hours of arriving to besiege it, so I came up with a daring plan. If I do say so myself.

Without getting into real detail, the plan was to blow holes in the walls of the Citadel from the outside, ignoring the town and most of its curtain wall, to avoid a quagmire in the streets. After that, an offer for Lady Seryl to surrender would be sent, but we knew she wouldn't accept it and we didn't really want her to either. Better that she answer for her crimes against her vassals with her life.

Once that was over with, we'd mount attacks from two sides; one into the breaches with the Grenadiers, both mage regiments and the pikes, another delivering the Rangers and the Vice-Regal Guard under my command into the town itself by sea, using the fishing boats that our own Jader-born patriots had used to escape in. The royal fleets had moved to Val Royeaux already. I'd use some plastic explosives or bring some mages along, blow another breach just as the main attack of our forces was under way and we'd take the Citadel from all sides. Job done.

Everyone seemed impressed with the idea, and there were no significant objections, so I turned in with Julie and Tam. We fell asleep in the Empress' own bed that night, a fact I took great pleasure in.

* * *

The next morning did not start well.

I awoke to the sensation of Julie thrashing in her sleep, deep in a nightmare. Tam and I pulled her to a sitting position, waking her slowly. Her eyes were soaked with tears, and she looked around the room, as if the place wasn't real and the dream was. I brushed her hair out of her face, and cupped it with one hand, trying to get her to calm.

"It's alright, you're safe," I said. That snapped her out of it.

"Maker damn it all..." she muttered, wiping sweat off her forehead, "I keep seeing it, over and over."

Tam drew Julie close, resting her head on top of Julie's own. "The nightmares will pass," she said. Julie hugged back, burying her face in Tam's shoulder.

I was beginning to think that maybe the nightmares wouldn't go away, that perhaps we should talk to someone about it early. Particularly as dreams and nightmares on Thedas aren't just the creation of the mind, as on Earth. They are interactions with the Fade. Julie had every right to be depressed, her sister and some of her friends had been brutally murdered in front of her. It was the demons attracted to that sort of thing I was afraid of. Julie was no mage, but her proximity to me meant I had no fucking clue what might happen. I had just watched my horse deflect what should have been a decapitating blow from a magical sword the day before, I wasn't taking any chances.

I glanced around the room, and saw that it was morning already. Almost as late as we planned to wake up at any rate. There was no need to wait. I got up off the bed.

"Come on," I said, "Get dressed. We're going to see Markham."

Julie peeked over Tam's shoulder.

"Why?" she asked feebly.

"I'm worried about you," I said, not bothering to sugarcoat it. Julie retreated into Tam's embrace again, who perked up and turned her head, stare boring into me. I tilted my head towards the door, trying to get her support for the idea. Our Qunari lover let out a mighty sigh, and held Julie away from her by the shoulders.

"Sam is right," she said, "There's no harm in seeing the healer."

Quite a concession, for someone as wary about mages as Tam was. I breathed my relief deeply.

Julie said nothing but got up to dress, trusting our opinion and outnumbered regardless.

Tam and I followed suit, and we walked to the residential wing through the empty corridors of the palace, our steps echoing. Without the servants, whom wouldn't be informed they still had jobs until a few hours later, the place was a crypt. When we got to the floors being used for the hospital wing, there was a lot more activity. Mages wandering from room to room, as well as the friends or family of the wounded.

We found Markham in one of the larger staterooms, with Armen and Vivienne. The Madame de Fer was in bed, dressed in remarkably fine clothes for a patient; something akin to silk pyjamas. None of them looked particularly happy. In fact, I think it's fair to say I turned up just in time. Armen was practically shooting lightning bolts out of his eyes at Lady Vivienne. Lady Vivienne held the young elf mage in complete contempt by closing her eyes, keeping her arms folded and turning her ahead away from him. Markham scowled at both of them.

We entered the room unnoticed, and got to within a few paces of them before I cleared my throat. All three turned our way, and their expressions changed to alarm.

Appropriate response if the leader of the country and its highest general suddenly appear before you. Or, you know, if Tam appeared before you.

"Good morning," I said, "Not getting into trouble, I hope."

Armen bit his lower lip, his face curling in anger. Vivienne crossed her arms again.

"It seems the esteemed First-Enchanters wish to kill each other," Markham intoned gravely, "I have informed them that if either of them try it, they'll face my knights and I too. It does not seem to have made much difference." This was the first I had heard that Armen was First-Enchanter, but given the political alliance between the Libertarians and the Lucrosians, I guessed Velarana had been squeezed out for the moment.

My eyes rolled of their own volition. "Seems like a real barrel of laughs," I said.

"It's good to see that you are taking your new duties seriously," Julie added, "The Hospitallers will do great things if they follow your example." She moved closer to Armen, and placed a hand on his shoulder lightly. He glanced at her, and seemed to relax a little.

"Your Excellency, I have always held to the principle that the true divine purpose of magic is to help the sick and injured; the vulnerable," Markham replied, with a small bow from the waist, "I am glad of the opportunity that Free Orlais has given me to spread such ideals."

Vivienne's head swivelled so quickly that I thought it might spin clean off her neck. The motion drew the attention of everyone else in the room too. The Madame de Fer lost little time in rolling away the blanket. She stood up awkwardly, still not fully healed, and squared off against Julie. They were about the same height, both taller than the average, not surprising given their common Rivaini heritage. Julie seemed taken aback by the woman's aggression. I felt a pang of guilt twist my stomach, having brought her down to see a healer, only for her to be confronted by political bullshit.

"So _this_ is Julie Hunt? The commoner who has turned so many to treason?" Vivienne asked, striking a haughty pose, "I am Vivienne, First-Enchanter of the Circle of Magi at Montsimmard." Again, pointed omission of appropriate titles as a veiled insult. Vivienne was always good at that.

"The Madame de Fer," Julie replied with a frown, "I know who you are."

"Yet no one seems to know who you are, really," Vivienne continued, "The woman who conquered the man from another world, so that he could conquer the world for her, using terrible weapons she built with her own hands using the secret knowledge of the Qunari. It's a story almost out of a children's tale, except the blood is real and the ending shall not be happy."

"You are well informed," Tam said, "A little too well informed."

Vivienne flashed a smile at her. "What sort of player would I be if I wasn't, darling?" she said, "Not that you would know anything about it, being nothing more than a plaything."

Fairly high hypocrisy for a woman who advanced through seducing a Duke, I would say today. Or perhaps that was the point; that Tam hadn't used her access to our bed to improve her access to power, as Vivienne herself had with Bastien. I didn't have time to think about it because Tam stepped forward, teeth bared and fists clenched. I just barely managed to get in front of her before she went in swinging her curved dagger about. Julie herself regarded Vivienne with narrowed eyes.

"She's a traitor to all of our kind. Let me execute her," Armen growled, addressing Julie, "Please."

"Not happening," I said, before Julie or Tam could reveal their enthusiasm for such an idea.

Markham seemed to physically relax upon hearing my response, his shoulders lowering slightly. I smirked to myself. He had been worried that I would agree to stick the Madame de Fer in front of a firing squad. Armen understood what the final word sounded like though, and accepted my decision with a shrug. He gave his goodbyes, and left the room, not sulking but with a determined gleam in his eye. Perhaps he intended to prove Vivienne's opinion that the Libertarians would bring only destruction wrong. Not sure myself that he managed to achieve that.

"If I might ask, what brings you to this part of the palace?" Markham asked, clearly happy to change the subject, "If it is about the new Tranquil, they are settling in with our own very well as expected." They were being schooled in artillery use at that very moment, in fact. Not sure that's what I'd call settling in, but having a few hundred more of the guys was a huge boost to our capability.

"No, it's about..." Julie began, before glancing at Vivienne, "Perhaps we could speak more privately?"

Markham opened his mouth, probably to say 'Of course, Your Excellency' if I knew the man, but the Madame de Fer was far from done in her quest to put us off balance.

"Oh? Are you feeling unwell, my dear?" Vivienne said, "It is said that the crown weighs heavily on all who wear it, but perhaps I can help. I have some experience of such things myself. What exactly is the matter?"

Julie gave the mage a withering look. "Nothing you need worry about," she said.

"Come now, I only wish to help, you have treated me well thus far," Vivienne continued, "What is wrong?"

I could see Julie's face turning red, her body tensing up. Vivienne's casual tone was going to cause her to go off like the Guns of the Navarone. Ask someone why they're feeling down after watching people get butchered in front of them was insensitive to say the least. I'm still unsure whether or not the Madame de Fer was aware of the events of the Day of the Long Knives, but that was irrelevant. Her Excellency was seconds away from going nuclear, and she still had a full magazine in the handcannon on her hip.

I saw the danger, and I knew I had to react quickly to avoid. Pity that I did so a little too quickly for common sense to apply.

"She's pregnant," I said flatly. Utter bullshit, but yeah, I went there.

The tension drained out of the situation like air out of a rubber balloon, the weight of the air lightening ever so slightly. So, mission accomplished there. Problem is that it was replaced with incredulity and confusion. Vivienne looked like a fish gasping for air, her mouth opening to say something and closing again when she realised she didn't have a good retort. I suspect she would have eventually congratulated us, if we had given her the time.

Julie and Tam were worse, their eyes wide enough to be mistaken for dragon eggs. Only Markham remained composed, nodding to himself with his hand on his chin, as if my words explained much. I pushed the man out the door gently, with a muttered apology to its occupant. Tam and Julie followed us out, and shut the door behind us. I saw their surprise being replaced with a 'what the hell' on the horizon.

"Sorry," I said, "Had to think of something to shut her up."

Julie just shook her head in disbelief. Tam eyed a warning at me, not to do something like that again. Bringing both of them to the point of being speechless was quite an achievement, but I got the message, loud and clear.

"So, the High-Chancellor is not with child?" Markham asked, sorry that it wasn't the case.

"Nope," I replied, "Simply a deception."

"Then why did you come to me?" he continued.

"I have been having nightmares," Julie said, "Sam thinks I should..." She stopped mid-sentence, and looked around.

At first, I had no idea what she was doing, but then I heard what she did. Footsteps, swiftly tapping closer. Sure enough, from the direction of the royal apartments came Mike, with a squad in tow. Her face told me at once that something was wrong. It was hardened like steel, her brow creased and eyes sharp. My hand itched at the absence of my firelance. If Mike looked like that, it meant she thought battle was near.

Mike and the soldiers came to a stop, and saluted us. I saluted back by reflex.

"Chancellor, Viceroy," Mike said, saluting, "The vice-Chancellor, the assembly, and the war council are gathering. They shall expect your presence in the Ballroom in an hour. We have visitors."

* * *

So we found ourselves back in the grand hall. The room was darker than it had been the night before; the windows did not face towards the sun in the morning. The chandeliers were lit up instead, which was far less spectacular. The room was bustling with activity too, another change. McNulty's Grenadiers were watching the elven servants move things around; chairs and tables for the dance floor mostly. Our war council were sitting or waiting for a seat, all of them. The members of the _Assemblée Nationale_ were present too.

They had placed three chairs on the middle section nearest the far windows, one of which was occupied by Ciara. The other two were clearly intended for Julie and I.

We descended to the dancefloor as things were beginning to calm down, approaching a finely dressed gentleman in a silver half-mask as we did so. I began to wonder who he was, when he stepped in front of us, bidding us to wait a moment with outstretched palms. Seeing no reason to disagree with the man, I stopped. He waited until the bustle had stopped, and the soldiers had taken up guard positions all around the dance floor and the raised sections. Only then did he speak.

"High-Chancellor, you and your mistress first," he said, Orlesian accent overflowing from his tongue.

Julie looked at him strangely, but did as she was told. She took Tam by the hand and walked to the edge of the last stairs. The masked man cleared his throat loudly.

"Julie Hunt, High-Chancellor of Free Orlais, Marquise de la Fayette!" he proclaimed loudly, "And her consort, Tam of Hearth, a warrior and scholar!"

There was polite applause. Julie glanced at the masked man, wondering why the hell he had done that. He waved her to continue to her seat, which she did with somewhat indecent haste. Tam walked a little more slowly, joining Armen and Leha at the table closest to the 'throne'. I stepped forward, knowing what the masked guy was playing at now.

"Samuel Hunt, The Peacekeeper, Viceroy of the Dales, Marquis de la Fayette!"

"Yeah yeah," I muttered to myself, taking the steps two or three at a time through the equally polite applause. I moved through the aisle between the seated assembly members and approached my seat beside Julie. I dropped into it with a sigh, before waving McNulty over.

"Who is that man?" I asked, pointing at the masked shouter.

"He's the palace herald," McNulty replied with amusement, "The imbecile insisted on remaining in his position 'at court' and asked what your titles were."

"Sounds like a man unwilling to give up his job," I replied, "I think I like him already."

"He's a noble, he doesn't need a job," McNulty said flippantly, "Heard you were seeing Markham this morning?"

"Yeah, don't remind me," I said, noticing activity at the doorway to the atrium, "Best sit down, we're starting."

I took in a deep breath and released it slowly. Good thing too, as the guests of honour began to stroll in. McNulty's men in the gallery cocked their firelances' flints as one upon seeing them, but did the courtesy of not aiming them in the faces of the newcomers.

The first to enter was two dozen or so battlemages, dressed in black and white padded mage armour, the dragon emblazoned on their shoulder armour in a bright green. Send in the Clowns, I thought, except these clowns could _kill_ with a thought. They occupied the palace-end of the room, opposite our Grenadiers.

Finally, three figures appeared, two human and one elf in a half-mask akin to those worn by the servants, but far more decorative. The former were familiar, the latter was not.

They calmly went down the first flight of stairs to the middle section opposite, and stopped by the herald. The masked man bowed low to them, and turned to the assembly.

"Titus Tiberius Pansa, Overlord of Treverorum, Princeps of the Western Legions, Hammer of the Fog-Warriors, Military Attaché to the Court of Orlais. With him, his grandson Gaius Tiberius Flavia, heir to Treverorum, Military Tribune of the Western Legions." I noted that the Herald completely ignored the elf, which removed my previous good feeling towards him. Assuming it was out of prejudice rather than ignorance.

Tiberius paced down the stairs and down the aisle towards us, a warm smile on his mouth. A sullen Gaius and the elf followed.

"Sam, it's so good to see you!" he said, arms stretched out to either side of him as he came on, "Quite a lot has happened since we last spoke, has it not?" The man always did like getting familiar without due cause. A tactic of his.

"That's an understatement," Julie replied, "What brings Tevinter to Halamshiral in the midst of war?"

"The war itself," Tiberius said, "The armies of the Empress and the Grand-Duke are gathering against you."

"We're aware of that," I said.

"Are you aware of the twenty thousand gathering in Lydes as we speak?" Tiberius said, "With more arriving every day to join them?"

The whole room began shouting, some disbelieving the magister, others calling for action. Not just members of the assembly, but our soldiers too. I couldn't make out a single one of their words over the sound of the others, but I could tell already that we weren't going to be able to have a civilised conversation out in the open like this. The unparliamentary language was already being bandied about freely, and I doubt Tiberius was done with the bad news.

I turned to Julie and Ciara.

"We need to get them the hell out of here," I said, "I can get the details in private and come back, you get control of the situation here. If he's right, we'll need to march against Lydes instead of Jader." Which means we would have to leave troops behind to guard our asses from Lady Seryl's murderous shit.

"I'll come with you," Ciara said, "See the woman with them? If that's who I think it is, this is going to be an interesting day."

I groaned. We had too many interesting days like that.

"Go," Julie said, "Find out what the Tevinter wants."

"You know what he wants," I replied, "My DNA and maybe my weapons."

"What he wants from Free Orlais, not you," Julie corrected, "He shouldn't be standing here if the only thing he's interested in is that piece of business."

That was indeed something worth knowing, I thought as I got up out of my seat and led Ciara towards our guests. Tiberius gave a theatrical bow in greeting, and I could tell already it was going to be a tedious conversation.

* * *

 _AUTHOR'S NOTE: This was meant to be part of the last chapter, but it got away from me in terms of length. And it has again, the next chapter was supposed to be part of the last chapter too. So, the volume is still three chapters from completion. If it goes as planned._

 _ **5 Coloured Walker:** Cheers for the review as always, and for the spotting of typos!_

 _ **Katkiller-V:** That's not a weird thought at all. Orlais has the largest contingent of Grey Wardens on Thedas as far as I'm aware. Thing is that they're stationed in Jader and Montsimmard if I remember correctly, and Sam hasn't been to either of those places. They feature pretty heavily in the next volume._

 _I have the rules for his null-magic capability set, but the story is partially about his discovery of their full extent. Beyond even what our cheery Tevinter magister knows._

 _ **Sovereign X22:** Merci._

 _ **Racdragon339:** I actually really liked Vivienne's character in Inquisition. I just thought her politics were shit, is all._

 _ **Suna Chunin:** You did ask if Briala was making an appearance..._

 _ **Ioialoha:** You're not the first person to have binge-read this story, and I have to say it tickles me every time someone tells me they couldn't put it down. Thanks for slogging through it._

 _ **Orco-n7:** You've been following my stories for a while, and I still can't speak Spanish mate. Glad you're liking them, though._


	33. Chapter 33: Lilac

**Chapter Thirty-Three: Lilac**

Ciara took charge as soon as we were out of the ever more raucous ballroom, leading us to a quiet corner of the gardens. Near a hotspring spa, of all things. There were lilacs in bloom there. I knew immediately that our Dalish friend had sought out and explored the famous gardens at some point. She shared the Empress' love for gardens. The location put me at ease, I have to say.

Tiberius and Gaius were silent throughout the journey, though the magister continued looking at me in the way a father-in-law who is pleased at his daughter's choice would. I could almost hear the dad jokes. All the more ridiculous in that I hadn't met Aurelia yet. How much of it was calculation and how much of it was relief that I wasn't some horrifying bastard, I don't know. Or maybe he was just happy that I wasn't an insignificant, that my ill-gotten status was worthy. One look at his grandson's downcast face was enough to know what he would bring up first, worry lines marring what otherwise was a handsome man.

The masked elf disappeared, and I thought briefly about sending someone to watch her. Considering her choice of companions.

I waited until the soldiers shadowing us, both ours and theirs, got comfortable out of earshot. I spied Armen casually joining them, his sentiment compelling him to watch over Ciara. Glad for the back up, I decided to attempt to avoid talking about the business of the proposal.

"I think this is private enough," I said, looking around one last time, "You said there were twenty thousand soldiers at Lydes? Under whose banner and command? What sort of soldiers are they? How are they equipped?" I thought keeping the questions strictly military would send the message loud and clear.

Tiberius reacted in a typically Tiberius way; a direct tangent into whatever he wanted to talk about.

"In time, Sam, in time," he said with a flick of the wrist, "First thing is first, I have something for you." One of his black-clad battlemages was handling something under a tarp, while another brought a wooden tripod. The tripod was set up beside the magister, and the rectangular object was set on top of it. Once they were sure it was stable, the tarp was pulled away and the soldiers withdrew, revealing what was within.

It was a painting. A portrait painting to be exact.

A young woman stared out at us from the canvass with wide brown eyes, the same colour as rich honey. Her pale features were framed by waves of pitch black hair, curling slightly as it fell to either side. She had a very Vinter nose, thin but pronounced, leading to full lips that were pulled into an innocent smile. Innocent because she could only have been fifteen. So while I thought her beautiful, I was a little flabbergasted by Tiberius showing me the picture. If you haven't guessed who the painting depicted, you need to pay more attention.

"Aurelia?" I asked.

"Indeed," Tiberius sniffed with obvious pride, his chest puffing out, "Wonderful, is she not? Don't tell my other granddaughters this, but she is by far the most beautiful among them. Gets it from her mother." Gaius nodded his agreement with glazed eyes, when the dumbass should have been reprimanding his eccentric grandfather. I sincerely hope he was thinking about his cousin rather than his aunt. Given the nonsense about bloodlines and anti-aging magic, I wouldn't have put it past him.

I scratched my head. I knew it would draw me further into the subject I had wanted to avoid, but I had to ask.

"She seems a little young," I said, "To the point that I'm even less interested than I was before." As I have no desire to think of myself or be thought of as a cradle robbing pervert.

"Oh, don't worry," Tiberius said, palms raised, "This was painted some... eight years ago now? Last time we could get her to sit down to do one, you see. She's quite wilful."

I raised my eyebrow without thinking. So Aurelia was in her early twenties. I'll probably get a tongue lashing for admitting it, but I was intrigued enough to wonder what she might actually look like then.

"But loyal to her family and her country," Tiberius added quickly in a fluster, "From what information I have gathered, wilful isn't a problem for you. I sent her the same and she agreed that you are suitable. Even expressed approval about a sketch of you in the last letter I received." A match made in heaven. Ha.

Of course, that raised the question of where he had gotten a sketch of me from. Drawing me still further into the topic. Ciara took to snickering to herself at this point as well, which didn't help matters. Made me wish Tam was around to keep me on task, or for Julie to lay into the magister with barbed remarks about slavery.

"Tiberius, have you been spying on me?" I asked flatly, arms crossed.

"Of course, I have not been able to retrieve any useful military knowledge, which is a shame," the magister replied, gesticulating, "But our spies have provided a record of your public and some private utterings, as well as the sketch of your likeness. It was quite expensive, but it was worth it to learn more about what sort of man you are."

Cursing under my breath, I reminded myself to talk to Leha about better security. No wonder Tiberius seemed chirpy, I thought, I must have lived up to his expectations while he watched from afar. Tevinter magisters are very particular about these sorts of things, believing that most traits are inherited through parents. However much he liked me as a person, and he did in fact like me, he was sizing me up more like a stud on a horse farm. The legacy of his house was his primary concern.

At least he wasn't running away with the secret of gaatlok. Getting a little riled up, I searched my mind for a way to get out of it to no avail. The desire to tell him to go fornicate himself washed over me, but I had to bite my tongue. He had intelligence I wanted, badly.

"So, what do you think?" Tiberius asked, "I can tell you were impressed, but I want to hear your thoughts."

"Yeah, she's easy on the eyes, but how can I really answer if I haven't actually met her?" I asked, "Not very polite to talk about someone behind their back like this." I thought to add a rebuke about his pushing of the match, before shutting my mouth. I had run into his trap.

"A meeting can be arranged," Tiberius continued, amusement glistening in his eyes, "Aurelia is busy on Seheron at the moment, fighting the Qunari, but winter will stop the campaigns there."

So she was a soldier like her grandfather. Chip off the old block on that front. Which increased my interest slightly until I realised the utter furor that her sudden arrival would have, assuming we weren't all dead. I was sure Tam would take it with her usual calm facade, I thought, but Julie would blow her top.

And I found my way out.

"Haven't you heard the news?" I grinned, "Julie _Hunt_ is High Chancellor here. I'm married already. So unless they practice polygamy in Tevinter, you're too late." I turned to Ciara to see if I wasn't getting into more trouble, but she just shrugged, apparently unaware of the marital laws of a distant country.

Tiberius scoffed, dampening my feeling of triumph. "Don't insult my intelligence," he said, "The fact you were married was reported, but we had no report of any ceremony even in private. I am well aware of the relationship with the Qunari defector. Those two facts taken together, along with my impression of your personality, I very much doubt you would marry one despite the other. And I am absolutely certain that Madame Marteau would not abandon your mutual lover to do so either."

"Ran yourself into that one," Gaius added, "You did not object that you were married first, you had to think about it. Even sounded like you were surprised you had not thought of it earlier, truth be told."

"Well, shit," I thought loudly. The younger Tiberius was right. Even without spy reports, I had essentially tipped my hand by not making the fact I was married my first objection. Should have guessed that Tiberius would have excellent judgment when it came to people's motivations, considering he was most likely the head of Vint spying for the entire South.

"Not to worry though, my original offer still stands," Tiberius said, "There is no need to abandon your paramours. This is about duty for us, and an opportunity for you to live in peace."

Not damned likely, I thought. I had my fill of this topic. I changed my stance to one that afforded a little more intimidation value, and rested my hand on the top of my handcannon. Sue me, John Wayne.

"Why are you here, Tiberius?" I asked, brooking no further deflection.

"The Tevinter Imperium has sent me to aid your cause," he replied immediately, "Secretly." I could have sworn that his eyes had flashed with fear, for a moment, before being replaced with the same mask of mirth that Armen would have been familiar with.

That response was not what I expected. "Why?" I asked.

"Nevarra," Gaius replied, "There have been minor skirmishes on our border with the Neverrans, and the Magisterium thinks that a war with them may be inevitable within the next few years. Orlais must not be in a position to help them."

"So you want to extend our war?" Ciara asked, "But Sam said before that it will probably take years to win anyway?"

"My fellow magisters do not believe you shall last long enough, or that you can win at all," Tiberius said, "And I agree with them. But helping you will drive a further wedge between Celene and Gaspard, and _that_ would start a war lasting years, possibly as many as ten or fifteen years."

"During which time you can thrash Nevarra," I said, completing their notion aloud.

"Exactly," Tiberius said.

"But there's just one problem," I continued, "Our revolution seems to have united Celene and Gaspard against the common threat."

"Ah, so it seems," Tiberius said, "But I have learned two things that indicate that they are at each other's throats. First, Celene rejected Gaspard's proposal of marriage, after that nonsense with the Ferelden ambassador."

I shrugged, not having a clue what incident he was referring to. Bann Teagan wasn't anywhere on my radar in those days.

"The second is that Duke Remache has defected from Celene's side to Gaspard's," Tiberius continued, "Remache was trying to marry Celene for years. My guess is that he will marry Gaspard's niece or something."

I nodded to myself. The pieces fit. It was a bold strategy for the Tevinters to try, but the reward was more than enough to justify it. Their constant war with the Qunari was more of a seasonal and limited affair, but one large enough to cause problems. Nevarra they could fight on even terms with, even while fighting the Qun, but Nevarra and Orlais together? The Vints would be seriously put down, even with huge superiority in magical artillery.

"How do you know all of this?" I asked, "Getting a spy into the Empress' own court seems like quite a feat."

"I told him," said a voice to my left.

I turned to find the silver-masked elf standing close, flinching that she had managed to get there without my notice. She pushed a thread of cinnamon brown hair behind her mask, and bowed slightly. Joining her was another elf, fair-haired with intricate facial tattoos threading his face, holding a staff. A Dalish mage if his robes were any clue, and the first person I had met who had vallaslin. He had violet eyes, not unlike Tam's, albeit narrower. Quite a pair, I thought. Who the hell they were, I had no idea.

Ciara leapt forward and drew the mage into a hug. The violet eyes smiling as much as his mouth, the mage reciprocated with a short laugh. I was struck utter dumb, and I was far from alone.

"Felassan!" Ciara shouted happily, "I can't believe you're here!"

"Ah Little One, I did not expect to see you here," he intoned cheerily, "Though I guess I cannot call you that any more."

"Don't be silly, I don't mind at all," Ciara said, detaching from the man, "Why are you here?"

That broke the spell of utter disbelief on me.

"Good question," I added, glancing at the masked one, "I've got a better one. Who are you?"

Ciara fell in beside the mage, rolling her eyes. To her, he was the furthest thing from a threat. I wasn't convinced, and it must have been obvious too. I have been told I have a certain attentive expression when I see someone I view as dangerous.

"This is Felassan," she said, "He's the reason I left the Dalish to explore the world. Everyone else told me it was madness, but he convinced me that I had to follow my own path."

"Has it been worth it?" Felassan smiled, "I am curious."

"So far," Ciara nodded, "It was hard going until I met Sam, but I've found something worth fighting for with him."

"Oh?" Felassan continued, "Worth fighting for?"

I saw an opportunity, to see what the Dalish opinion of our enterprise might be. Unfortunately for my schemes, Felassan was not actually Dalish.

"She's vice-Chancellor of Free Orlais," I explained, "Second person in the entire Empire, if we have any say in it."

Ciara waved it off, embarrassed beyond what I expected of her. Clearly, she had known this mage since she was a child. Maybe even he was a crush, once upon a time. Felassan's brows gathered together with troubled thoughts, enough to speak on it, but Tiberius had had enough of the diversion, the hypocrite.

"Reunions are wonderful," the magister said, "But onto business. This other elf is Briala, former servant and lover of Celene. A rich source of information, as you can imagine. That is how we know the details."

Briala glared at Tiberius. "How dare you," she growled, "I only accepted your help because you could get me to Halamshiral more quickly, I didn't agree to be your pawn."

Evidently revealing certain details hadn't been part of the plan when they had rode in, and if you don't know what detail in particular she would have preferred to keep hidden, you're an idiot. Tiberius simply raised his arms and shrugged, not caring one iota for her feelings.

I was utterly baffled.

"If you are Celene's lover, why are you with Tiberius at all?" I asked, "You're not a Tevinter spy, or I'll eat my hat." I looked to the magister himself for answers, but he said nothing. He was a compassionate man, in his own way.

Briala's head recoiled away, refusing to put her gaze on us for a moment. Her jaw clenched, and her breath became audibly short. The half-mask failed to hide either tell. She was choking down sadness. My throat dried up a little, feeling bad for pressing her. I moved to apologise quietly to her, but she recovered in time to meet me head on.

"It's your fault!" Briala said, stabbing a finger against my chest, "Celene was ready to give us _everything_ , to free Halamshiral and the elves, but you just couldn't wait. You had to throw it all away to start this absurd, doomed rebellion!"

"Wait? We weren't given any time at all!" I snapped, "Templars, Qunari, assassins hired by someone with enough wealth to assassinate dozens of nobles in a single day. Every improvement we made in Hearth just added to those trying to kill us. They slaughtered our leader's sister, her friends and their children in front of her eyes! You expect us to wait to die?!"

Briala remained silent, while I loomed, awaiting a response with increasing impatience.

"Marquis, I must point out that she is here now to help your cause," Tiberius said slowly, "It is your choice to reject her of course, but I feel you need to know that. Briala, you need to tell him why you have made that decision."

"I agree," Felassan added, his eyes locked on me. The man was perceptive at least. There was a long pause, heavy with expectation.

"Celene intends to bring her full might to bear on the Dales," Briala said, "She has no choice, Gaspard will use his own forces to do so if she doesn't. I begged her to order Gaspard to stand down and to send me instead. I thought I could broker a peace before your war machines caused any irreparable damage. But we both knew that Gaspard would not have listened. He will spend the blood of every man, woman and child in the Dales if it buys him the throne. So Celene declared war herself."

"You make it sound as if Celene was on our side," Ciara asked, "But that just doesn't make sense."

"She was," Briala said deeply, sorrow channelling her tone, "She read all the literature from Hearth. I introduced her to it. She did not agree with every word, but she was willing to change things. Many of the younger nobles were talking about the same ideas."

"Not enough to come to our aid, I notice," I replied.

"Most of the chevaliers are loyal to Gaspard," Briala retorted, "If she did help you, she would face war with half the Empire, not just half the Dales. So she chose to fight you instead, hoping that it will cement her support with the higher nobility who hate you. But I cannot stand by and watch my people butchered for her throne, so I will help you."

"If my reading of the situation is worth anything, Celene already faces Gaspard," Tiberius said, before turning to me, "His allies in the Dales are not gathering in Val Royeaux as ordered, and Gaspard himself will sail from Val Chevin. They shall link up at Lydes and march on Halamshiral in force, before the Royal Army under Celene can arrive."

I shook my head. There was a serious flaw in Gaspard's logic, if Tiberius had a good read on the man.

"But that doesn't make any sense," I said, "If Gaspard goes up against us, we'll put many of his thugs to death even if he does eventually win. He'll lose most of his army, and most of his chevaliers too." They did oh so love charging into the sights of our firelances.

"Perhaps Gaspard knows something that you do not, shemlen," said Felassan, fiddling with his staff, "Even I have heard of the power of your weaponry, but they do not make you invincible."

Unable to fault him there, I grunted my agreement, but I had taken that into consideration long ago. Discipline and aggression are what made the Free Army truly great and I was very proud of that even then, but most of our soldiers still carried pikes or crossbows. It would be 9:41 by the time that changed.

"Then I'll crush his army before it can gather," I snarled back, "Tiberius, you better start talking about the troops already at Lydes or I'm bringing our Templars into this."

The magister actually cringed, before getting himself correct.

"Twenty thousand, most of the professional forces in Gaspard's camp from the western Dales," Tiberius said, before smiling again, "I understand you smashed their friends at Sahrnia."

"Hoping to do the same to them," I replied.

"It'll be easy," Ciara declared, "We're better and there's more of us."

"As long as we can get there in time," I said, rubbing my neck, "It'll take two days to settle things here. Any idea how many more troops that'll mean?"

Tiberius shook his head. "Perhaps some of Celene's vassals could be tricked into joining Gaspard's, but unless they start pressing peasants into service, twenty thousand is about as many as you can expect."

"But Gaspard can still bring his army in by sea," Briala corrected, "And Lydes' walls are high. The army can hold out until he arrives, even if you can breach the defences."

"Then we need to march even earlier," I sighed, "Fuck."

Ciara came and pat me on the side. "I'll tell the others," she said, "I know how you hate the politics."

I barked a laugh. "So do you, yet here we are," I said, "Go on ahead, I want to speak to Tiberius privately about something anyway." To see the man about a horse, to be exact.

With a nod, Ciara took off at pace, waving for Briala and Felassan to join her. The latter did, but Briala remained, causing the others to stall as they looked to her to move. She stood bolt upright, her shoulders back, feet rooted to the spot.

"I must ask," she said, "Is it true you are from another world?"

The question that always came. It was getting tiresome, but thankfully, there was a better way than saying yes and having to go through the process of proving it all. At least she didn't ask me to prove my immunity to magic.

"You will march with us," I replied, "Ciara, show her the book. Armen has it. The book with images from Earth, that is."

"I know which one," Ciara snorted, "Come on, princess, you're in for a treat."

Briala departed without any further delay, Felassan lingering for a moment to examine me, his smile utterly gone. Not one to be intimidated, not least by a mage, I stared him down until he left. Noticing he wasn't wearing any shoes in the process, which was curious to my mind.

"I don't like that one," Gaius said, addressing his elder, "We should not have trusted her."

"Whatever you say, Bitch Puddin'," I said flatly. Both Tevinter mages regarded me in confusion. I did not offer an explanation then, and I won't here either.

"Tiberius, may I speak to you alone?" I asked.

The magister inclined his head in agreement, and bade his grandson to stay with a finger pointed to the ground. Gaius threw his arms in frustration, but obeyed. Together, Tiberius and I began the walk back towards the palace at a crawl pace. We were quiet for a little while, mostly because I was gathering my thoughts.

"Do you wish to speak about why I am helping you, now that you know the elf's story?" he inquired, "My personal motivations, not the decision of the Magisterium."

That wasn't the reason for the talk, but I knew we had to go there, now that the notion had been spoken of.

"You don't believe we can win," I said, remembering his Christmas visit, "And I suspect you have enough influence to get out of those orders with ease."

"You're wondering why I am prolonging matters," said Tiberius, stopping in his tracks, "When the faster you lose, the more likely it is you will take me up on my offer. Or so you think."

"Exactly."

"The only way I can prove my good intentions is by supporting yours, Sam," the magister said, resuming the walk, "What I propose for you cannot work if you do not trust me. Yes, you will lose, but it will not be because I withheld any support. My battlemages and I will wear your sigil as our own, fight with you. When it is all over, I can come to you and say that we have proven ourselves, and your place is with us. By my granddaughter's side, protecting our people from the Qunari hordes that would destroy us."

"A cunning plan," I mused, "You still haven't gotten around the fact that you own slaves, though."

"You are more valuable than all my slaves put together, don't think that I would hesitate to free every single one of them to prove a point," Tiberius laughed, "The rest of the family would likely be displeased, until they saw Aurelia's new power."

Yay for the mother of my child being a walking nuke. "It isn't going to go down that way, you understand," I said.

"We shall see," Tiberius said.

"Either way... onto something else," I said, "You're the only expert on 'outlanders' that I know, so this should be interesting."

"What would you like to know?" Tiberius asked.

I halted to explain. "I fought Madame de Fer yesterday. She came at me with her spirit-blade, tried to cut the head off my horse to pin me down and finish me off with a dagger," I said, "The blade broke against Bellona's skin, just like it would have if she had tried to cut me with it instead. Care to explain?"

"Does anyone know of this?!" Tiberius asked at once.

I was caught off guard. "Eh, Lady Vivienne herself, all of the Loyalist mages, the Tranquil, they all saw it. I told a good few people... including Leha," I thought aloud, "So it's probably all around the city by now, but why does that matter?"

"You are great, _great_ danger if that is true," Tiberius whispered.

"So you know why my horse suddenly has my ability to deflect magic?" I asked.

"Of course I do," Tiberius replied, "Tiberia Major wrote that the First Outlander's favoured steeds all were able to deflect magic, but only when being ridden by him. The theory among my ancestors seemed to be that the loyalty of the animal and the appreciation of the master for it allowed for limited 'essence-joining" to occur. For the same reason your offspring will undoubtedly be powerful mages, your horse can share your ability when you're in contact with it. It's about the soul and its whims. A child and its mother are a part of a father's soul, a war horse is part of a warrior's soul. The connection with your child is far greater of course, hence the difference in what happens."

"Which means what?" I asked, "Why would that be dangerous to me? Sounds more like a benefit than a risk." In fact, it sounded like I could hold hands with Julie, Tam, or maybe even the others and they'd get the same deal. Which would have been nice, if it was the case, but alas, it wasn't.

"Think about it," Tiberius said, closing in on me, "If you can transfer your immunity to the Fade to a horse, some might be under the impression you could transfer it to another person. Or even many people. Your immunity was an oddity, it was your weapons that were talked about the most at court. But imagine the lengths that the Chantry or the Qun will go to in order to capture you, for their goal to throw back magic forever!"

He paused for breath.

"They'll kill you six different ways before they realise it can't be done, and that's not even the worst thing. I am not sure that it even _is_ impossible. It's entirely uncharted territory."

My eyes widened. I felt a cold sweat on my neck. Real fear hit me. The magister was absolutely correct. This was Exalted March, Total War with the Qun level threatening. The fear of magic was widespread and deeply rooted everywhere. I began to appreciate why Tiberius was so eager to have me come to the Imperium; his kind would likely be the target of a true genocide, if his worst fears about the nature of outlanders were true. Appreciation not large enough to agree to his absurd plan, but enough to respect his effort, at least.

"Then I must win," I croaked out, before clearing my throat.

"You cannot win," Tiberius sighed, "The numbers are stacked too highly against you."

"Maybe not, certainly not if I have to beat them all at once," I replied, regaining my steel, "But divided, I _will_ beat them."

Perhaps I should have listened then and there to the man, but even with decades of retrospect, I cannot see any way I could have acted differently. I simply did not have all the facts.

* * *

 _AUTHOR'S NOTE: Smallish chapter completing the third part of what should have been only one chapter. Only two more chapters to the end of the volume, though as with the last three, they might get split up due to huge length. I haven't written any of it yet, so we'll see._

 _Twenty internet cookies to those who can guess which video game/novel character was the inspiration for Aurelia's appearance. Hopefully I haven't made it too easy. And no, her personality won't be modelled on the same._

 _We're really moving now._

 _By the way, if my stories suddenly disappear, it's due to some guy who claims to have reported every single chapter of my Wars of the Systems Alliance story for non-compliance with the terms of service. Even though that is my least offensive story, and I can see no way that it breaks the terms regardless._

 _ **Ioialoha:** Glad to hear you find it so enthralling._

 _ **Jarjaxle:** The Templar-Mage War hasn't started yet, but... I think it's fairly obvious that Sam and Co will have to play a part in it. The mages with him would demand it. Have a very interesting idea as to how that might be achieved. _

_**Hypothetical Spiritual Entity:** I share your opinion entirely. Very fun lady. Shit politics._

 _ **Lord Mortem:** No doubt there are a good number._

 _ **Orco-n7:** You're telling me that you translate my stories? Using what? Google? And they translate well? I am amazed._

 _ **Tusken1602:** Cheers._

 _ **American-Gentleman96:** I decided that the autobiographical style would let me build up tension and expectation in a way that suited the story best. I've already been called out on it for laziness, but it is really very effective to my mind. Plus the story was originally a less than subtle jab at the self-insert genre, where someone from our world arrives in Thedas with all the knowledge of the future that they need, or most of it. Those stories are usually in first person, either like this or in present tense._


	34. Chapter 34: Dixie

**Chapter Thirty-Four: Dixie**

Napoléon Bonaparte, whose name I briefly borrowed, was a very wise man. On the back of his military and political genius, he rose from a minor noble of a conquered province who could barely afford decent clothing to Emperor. In the space of a decade or so. If Julie ever had a kindred spirit on Earth, Napoléon was it, and she was well aware of it. She possesses the same genius coupled with a thirst for power that was impossible to slake, yet the high regard for liberal ideals too. She would face many of the same problems, but as a result of my military efforts and Tam's constant support, the now-famous events of the first half of the Dragon Age did not break her.

Regardless, the man's relevance to events at Lydes is in one piece of wisdom he once wrote.

" _ **You must not fight too often with one enemy, or you will teach him all your art of war."**_

This is true in every era, on every continent, on any particular world.

By the time we marched on Lydes, I had fought Orlesian forces many times. Against White Mask and his tax-robbing gang, against the barons of the Emprise at Sahrnia, against the keeps and castles of the same region that refused to surrender, and finally against the chevaliers outside Halamshiral. There was no shortage of survivors of these battles, not all of them were captured, and even those that did fall into our hands were released more often than not.

To be brief, the method by which I waged war was now within the realm of knowledge, even if it was very hard information to obtain, requiring a great amount of effort to collate. It would take a man obsessed to pursue that knowledge, with a rich and powerful patron to provide the manpower and coin necessary.

Just such a man existed and he had a few ideas of his own.

* * *

The Peacekeepers went out ahead just after sunrise, the day after Tiberius' arrival.

I took my first steps on the Imperial Highway in the orange glow of morning. Got to hand it to Tevinter, they know how to build a freeway. On Earth, you could have driven four trucks down its flat, light-grey Orlesian sections side-by-side, no problem. Unlike in Ferelden, the highway was well maintained too, at least on land. The bridges across the Waking Sea were simply impossible to keep in shape without magic. It remains a marvel of engineering, even if it has been overshadowed by technological developments.

Even by foot, Lydes is less than a day's march from Halamshiral on the highway. Mounted units can make it there in six hours if need be, and needs did indeed be. The Army would make the journey in three parts.

The Peacekeepers, now including the Knights-Hospitaller and the Tevinter battlemages, were first under my command. I wanted to make sure that Tiberius was right, avoid battle if his numbers were too optimistic and exploit the royalists' weakness if they were

The other eight thousand or so soldiers that had made up the original part of the Free Army were second, leaving only two hours after we did. Like the Peacekeepers, they were mounted on ponies and hobby-horses, so they could move just as fast as we could. Soprano would command this part.

The rest would leave by foot at the same time as Soprano's people, under Velarana and Mike's command. These would arrive by sunset, Aside from the ten thousand foot soldiers I had recruited from the Hearthlands, we had another fifteen thousand volunteers from the Crownlands. They were peasants and city-dwellers; eager, zealous, but entirely untested.

By my standards, the volunteers were a rabble, albeit a well-armed one given our extensive stocks of captured weapons. With the Imperial Highway, there would be no trouble supplying them either. I wanted to leave them behind, but they insisted. I could not have stopped them coming unless I had started shooting them, so I gave them their chainmail, shields and swords. The enemy didn't have many soldiers more professional than they were. Indeed, the first reports of impressments of peasants on the Exalted Plains reached me on the same day we left.

I rode at the front of the column myself, save for Major Isewen's Lancers who were all ahead scouting, not just on the Highway but in the countryside around it. It sounded like I was being followed by some sort of giant centipede, the rumbling of hooves and horseshoes on the raised highway moving up just behind. It veiled the conversations being had among my companions in a fugue of noise.

Everyone else except McNulty stayed there. I must have looked like a cemetery statue or some shit, because he rode up, a polite smile poking out from his face under a round stahlhelm. The sort you have when you're about to say something you think is funny to cheer someone up.

"I hear there shall be wedding bells ringing soon?" he asked, "Gladiatorial combat, followed by the vows?"

"Huh?" I was at a loss.

" _Le mec de_ Tevinter," McNulty explained, "I caught a glimpse of that portrait when you came back to the palace."

I groaned. The knowledge that Tiberius had made the offer of alliance by marriage was strictly kept to my immediate... family. I warned McNulty with my eyes, narrowing them and turning myself around fully in the saddle. He got the message, but that just got him laughing.

"Don't fret, no one else knows," he assured, "No one else saw the portrait, as far as I know, and only I would understand what it was for."

"That doesn't make me feel any better," I frowned, "I hope you get that she isn't _that_ young any more." The thing I didn't need circulating was that I was considering dumping Julie for a well connected teenager. I get the feeling that a black-fletched arrow would find my back very quickly if I wasn't able to stomp on that rumour.

"Ah, that is the usual ploy," McNulty stated, his tone level, "I was a guard for a noble family once, about nine years ago. Their son was due to marry some other high _aristo_. We were about the same age and he was a complete scoundrel, so we got along."

He paused for a moment, the days coming back to him with a grin. That got me wondering why he was thinking on them so fondly, but I was soon kicking myself for being such an idiot. The man was Orlesian. Many Orlesians do not have a preference for gender, and dalliances are practically expected.

Which does beg the question of why Julie didn't stray. I'd like to think it was because I terrified the hell out of any would-be lover, but Tam was the more likely reason. She wasn't into the straying, a supreme irony. God Bless Tam.

McNulty continued, his grin dying.

"But the mother's head nearly flew off when she met the bride-to-be for the first time. The portrait sent over was from when the daughter was younger, and she had grown up to be far less the _beauté_ that the painting had shown. She had this wide mouth with cheek lines, see, made the poor woman look a little like a bulldog. Only a little. I still would have, but the dear Countess was distraught that her grandchildren would be ugly. The son said he would stand by the proposal, mostly because the strength of the family would be much increased."

Another pause, shorter and completely lacking the nostalgic happiness of the first.

"The Countess blamed me for poisoning her son's mind. Apparently some maid had overheard me saying to her son that it was a ridiculous idea to drop the marriage, both for politics and because the girl wasn't really ugly at all. There was a suggestion made that I had said so to make the son unhappy in his match, and that I'd exploit that for my own pleasure and wealth."

The large man let out a mighty sigh.

"So I lost my job and a friend," he said at last, "Never heard from the son again, never learned if he did marry that girl. They lived up in Montfort. I came all the way south to the Dales, no shortage of work for a brawler here. Ended up fighting in the barons' little war three years ago, stayed ever since."

I had drank with this man on many occasions. In fact, McNulty, Armen, Soprano, Mike and I had become something of a professional vodka drinking team over the past few months. Occasionally barged in on by Leha. Not something reflected in this account, as nothing of importance ever happened then. So, the big man putting this on the table was quite a thing.

"That is a fucking terrible story, McNulty," I said, "Truly."

"Just wanted you to know how nobles do, since you don't have them back home," McNulty replied, "Bet the jester-looking Vint even told you it was the only portrait of her they could get. That's another trick."

I frowned. Tiberius had used the line, but I also still believed him when he said it. He had tripped over himself to point out his granddaughter's virtues after letting it slip that she was wilful. Now I found myself distrusting his words even more than I had. He was certainly intelligent enough to come up with an act like that. The difference between how much Aurelia must have known about me and how much I really knew about her was jarring, and I began to hope that we would never meet. I would be at a complete disadvantage.

"There are more terrible stories nearby too," McNulty said, with a glance to the rear, "That elf that came in with the magisters, for instance."

"Oh?" I said, only half listening. Still trying to get a handle on Tiberius' ploys.

"The Empress' lover," McNulty said, eyes raised to the heavens, "Imagine loving the most powerful woman in the world, as an elf."

I turned my hand over in inquiry and confusion. What are you saying, was what I was trying to convey.

"She tried to convince the Empress to help her people, she must have," McNulty continued, "Celene had a reputation as an elf-lover for years before this. Could you ignore the Marquise if she asked you to do something in bed?"

I recalled some of the conversations about the future I had with both Julie and Tam, in the dazed, sweaty state that you're in after making love. A smirk spread my lips, and McNulty guffawed at it.

"That's a no," he laughed, "This Briala is in love with the Empress, and convinced her to ease off the knife-ear shit. And along we come, stirring the pot until it boils over, and Briala is betrayed as the Empress choose the Empire over her love, humanity over elves. I bet the Empress is hurting too, but that has to be nothing compared with..."

"I get it..." I interrupted, not particularly wanting to hear a sympathetic tale that was contrary to my goals. McNulty bowed his compliance with my wishes, and stayed silent.

* * *

We rode on for another hour, but my mind just wouldn't let it go.

I called the first halt on schedule, a fifteen minute break, tied up Bellona at the front of the column, and went to Briala. She wasn't far behind, so I called her and thumbed over my shoulder to show I wanted a word. Those around her, Ciara, Armen and the Dalish mage to be specific, seemed a bit bewildered, but Briala herself didn't hesitate a second to join my walk as we went further down the Highway for some privacy.

Privacy that we wouldn't have, not fully. Felassan padded after us at a respectful distance but one most definitely within earshot. Armen followed him in turn, expressionless. They were at odds, I realised, but that was something for later.

We came to a stop near the edge of the Highway, and I leaned on the low marble wall skirting the edge, looking down into the rolling farmlands and scrubs to the south.

"Your Dalish friend is protective of you," I said to Briala, hoping to break the ice, "He help you get out of Val Royeaux?"

"No, I escaped on the Tevinter's corvette," Briala responded, "Felassan went ahead to Halamshiral once we knew that the Empress felt she needed to act. I stayed to try and convince her to take the peaceful path."

I nodded and turned to Briala, inspecting her.

She had kept her gleaming silver mask, but had changed clothes. Green and brown huntress gear now covered her, almost identical in construction to Ciara's own, but in a different pattern with more sturdy leather.

On her back, a recurve bow made with a material I couldn't identify, and silverite daggers akin to the bayonets of my troops. Quite a rarity for weapons, and especially expensive. We had so many silverite weapons simply because every single master-smith capable of working the alloy was with us, and every single silverite mine in the Empire was under our control. We needed so much of the one waste material that silverite mining produces for black powder, that even our cannons were made of the metal as we had a huge surplus of it.

Briala could only have gotten the blades from the Empress. The reminder made me a little guilty, irrationally so to my mind. I cleared my throat before speaking.

"I need to know what happened in Val Royeaux," I said, "Celene's mindset before this all started. Can you help me with that?"

Briala stared. Wondering what sort of man I was, I suspect. I looked away.

"Certainly, though I cannot claim to know her every thought," she said slowly. I found her response less than satisfactory, rubbing my temple.

"I was under the impression you were sleeping with her," I replied, "In love with her, even. As mind-reading goes, that's as good as it gets."

"If that was true, would I be here?" said Briala, her voice rising slightly, "If I knew that the Empress might abandon my people to save her throne long before this day, do you think I would have remained with her?"

"Yes, you would have," I said without hesitation, "You loved her. You might have known the truth, but lied to yourself that it was impossible, or that you could convince her." Because that's what I would have believed, more likely than not. Most people, men or women, think themselves capable of controlling their destiny in that way. Briala's eyes went to the floor. Clearly, I had struck a nerve. Maybe she had known how far the Empress would go, deep down.

"But I'm not here to discuss the nature of people," I added, before she could formulate a coherent reply, "First question; was Celene responsible for the murders? Baron des Arbes, Baronness Doucy, Lord Clouet's second son?"

"I think not, but... the truth is that I do not know," Briala replied, "Normally, if she wanted someone dead, she would have sent me. But if desperate, it would be a move she could take. To avoid a long civil war, she would do almost anything."

"Except marry Gaspard, if Tiberius is being truthful," I said.

"Gaspard would have sidelined her, which was reason enough to reject his offer," Briala explained, "But it would also have meant losing me, which was what explanation she gave when Remaches had asked for her hand. I asked her why she didn't want to live out a life of quiet study, she said I was too important. When Gaspard's offer was made, there was still hope for a peaceful resolution too. News of your victory in the Emprise arrived days later."

"But you have no knowledge of her involvement in the assassination plot," I said, "Which means she would have had to do it behind your back. Not impossible, not even improbable. If she was playing the kindly, liberal ruler to keep you, she might have thought she would lose you over the plot too."

"She was not playing!" Briala retorted loudly, "She really believed, I know she did. Equality, progress, knowledge, she values all of these things dearly. Even your lover's ideas!"

"Now you're defending Celene," I growled back, "Make up your mind."

"You called a convention and did not invite her. Gaspard called Celene out, saying the elves were organising an independent realm," Briala spat back, "He, or someone working for him, bribed the Grande Royeaux Theater for a play. They had Andraste forget her duty in favour of lusting after Shartan, an elf, revealing our relationship! Celene quietly ordered the army to muster, to crush your Free Orlais. That's when your murders happened. It could have been Gaspard for all you know!"

"My own chevaliers tell me that isn't his style," I stated, "The man would find it crass and dishonourable. Besides, if he beats me on the field, sieges our towns and cities, he gains prestige with every victory. No, Gaspard did not do this. And it seems you can't tell me if Celene did it."

"Almost every noble above the rank of Comte wants you dead," said Briala with wave of her arm to the countryside, "True, many could not afford so many assassins, but they're as capable of conspiring with each other as you are of conspiring with the peasantry. Not to mention that the Chantry and the Qun are more than wealthy enough to have organised the assassinations too."

"It wasn't the Chantry, or at least not the Divine," I replied, "Justinia would have sent the Nightingale after me if she wanted me dead, and she wouldn't have consented to the murder of children if she wanted to topple the movement. Though her silence at the moment is deafening. The Chantry appears to be sitting this one out, letting local mothers, Circles and Templar Commanders decide their own allegiances. Something to distract everyone from the Kirkwall shit."

"That still leaves the nobles and the Qun," Briala said.

I clenched my fists, with the understanding that she was right. Celene wasn't off the suspect list, but she wasn't alone on the list either. It was utterly infuriating to have someone with the inside track right there, but not to have answers. But there was nothing I could do but continue the campaign. I relaxed again, and distracted myself by standing up a little straighter. Putting on my officer's stance.

"We will take the whole country," I declared, "In the end, it does not matter. Those behind the assassins, whoever they are, their ultimate goal has failed."

"You're... We're outnumbered, Your Excellency," Briala noted, looking out over the fields.

"On the contrary, we're quite evenly matched at the moment," I said, "Shoving spears and swords into the hands of peasants doesn't make an army, and the tensions between Celene and Gaspard have very kindly chopped that rabble up into chewable pieces for us."

For the first time, Briala smiled. "You really believe we can do it?"

"Absolutely," I said, "After all, in every region and city ahead of us, there are people waiting and watching. Elves, peasants, urban labourers, merchants, lower nobles, they all want a new Orlais, even if most of them haven't heard or read Julie's work. A quick victory at Lydes will give us reinforcements at every turn."

Briala breathed out. She undid a bow at the back of her head, and took off her mask, revealing a spray of freckles and a tumble of light brown curls, before leaning on the marble wall with her elbows. Easy to see why the Empress had been charmed. Intelligent and beautiful, a devastating combination that I knew much about. Her eyes closed in thought.

"So much to risk on a single throw of the dice," she said.

"Alea iacta est," I chuckled, "The die is cast. You've inadvertently paraphrased one of my world's greatest generals."

"Did she or he win?" Briala asked. Had to resist a cough of surprise. Women weren't generals in my world. Not even in my day, not really. Not yet.

"He won against barbarians, and when the nobles of his city wished to punish him for his success, he won against them too," I replied, "Ended up betrayed, stabbed at court by those he pardoned and even some of his own friends. This man was successful even in death. His heir proclaimed that he was a god."

The elf stood up and looked at me.

"I hope that is not where we are going, Viceroy," Briala said.

"Not if I can help it," I said, "I won't lose, and I won't be proclaimed a god either." As Andraste had, perhaps.

We said nothing for a few minutes, resting our minds after the duel of sorts that had ended on favourable terms.

"Out of curiosity, what was your general's name?" Briala asked, off the cuff.

My face curled into a smirk again. "Caesar," I said, " _Julius_ Caesar."

Briala's eyes widened, before we both looked back at the column of soldiers and horses resting. Julie was riding back towards us, having inspected the troops, Tam riding alongside her. Looking downright regal in her Earth panoply and beret, long red-brown hair blowing to the side in the wind. Celene's lover and I glanced at each other.

"Perhaps it is a good thing that she is not a general," Briala said, not joking.

"She doesn't need to be. She has me by the balls," I said, with a great deal more mirth, "Hail Caesar, we who are about to die, salute you!" I threw a half-assed Earth-salute towards Julie in for good measure. Whipped within an inch of my life, my old buddies would have said.

Briala shot a dark look at my gallows humour, before beginning the return to her own horse. I caught up with her, using my larger legs to do so with ease. I still had a question for her.

"You said Celene believed in Julie's ideas... my world's ideas," I said, "Just how true was that?"

"She read _Le Sens Commun_ and saw great promise in it, as a solution to the Empire's problems," Briala said, "The power of the nobles was making her rule untenable. The situation with the mages and Templars was... is slowly spinning out of control more each day. The burden of these conflicts will be carried by the ordinary subjects, so even if Celene triumphed over Gaspard, she might face uprisings and revolts."

"So she saw it as a way to maintain her power," I concluded, "I can't say that's in the spirit of what we intended."

"She saw it as a way to keep Orlais together, to make the realm strong again," Briala corrected sharply, "But you were too impatient. The war you started in the Emprise left her looking too weak to rule, or worse, like she was letting her loyalists attack her enemies for her. The high nobles pounced, and her own intervention was the only thing she thought she could do to stop the unravelling of … everything."

That was a good answer.

Having nothing else to add, I stopped by Bellona and let Briala return to her own horse, flanked by Felassan and trailed by Armen. Julie and Tam rode past them, taking notice. Revas and Fritz trotted up, their masters both looking to me.

"What was that about?" Julie asked.

"Trouble?" Tam added, with an eye towards doing something about it if that was the case.

"I was asking her about Celene, whether she had any answers about the assassinations," I replied, "Only real answer I got out of her was that it was possible, but that she didn't think so."

"She is not a reliable source," Tam said, "I would lie to protect you in an instant. It is logical to assume that the Empress' lover would too. Even if they did fall out."

"I don't know," I replied, "Seems like she's hurting, feeling betrayed. Admitting that it was within Celene's power and motivation to carry out the assassinations is damning enough, even if she doesn't go the whole way towards pointing the finger."

"It doesn't matter," Julie said firmly, "Celene, Gaspard, the Chantry, everyone who could have done it or could have known about it will pay. This Empire is ours now, it belongs to everyone who can't afford to hire the Crows or the House of Repose. We'll crush those who can."

I smiled and took her hand, planting a kiss on her palm.

"As you command," I said with theatrical flair, "Caesar."

Julie's eyebrow cocked up. She knew exactly who I was referring to, of course. I pointedly ignored her wordless inquiry as to why I was making that particular comparison, and strolled to Bellona to mount up.

The break was over. I nodded to the sergeant nearby to signal the advance once more. Shovels obliged, blowing on a horn, sending its loud drone out over the highway and farmlands both. Our soldiers began mounting up again too, the rustling and movement of leather growing.

Julie and Tam joined me at the front for the rest of the journey.

* * *

The Peacekeepers arrived within sight of the walls of Lydes in the late afternoon as planned, the city sprawling to the southwest of the Imperial Highway less than a kilometre away. The place has high walls, like Halamshiral, but most of its population lives outside of them, protected only by a palisade like the Smith Quarter in Hearth was. Surprisingly, the alienage was within the walls, I learned from the reports of elves that fled the city after an attempted purge. A couple of thousand of them were in our army, a fact that would matter far more than I thought it would.

The royalists' pickets rode off as soon as our own scouts had arrived, not even bothering to try stopping them delivering what I can only describe as a very encouraging report. I ordered the Tranquil to deploy the cannons along the length of the highway's edge, turning it into a huge battery and one well within range of the walls opposite. The ramp off the highway I had covered with pikes, and our firelancers were arranged to cover it from both sides. I had our scouts ride out again, north and west. Once I was sure we couldn't be assailed, I had a closer look at the state of things with my binos.

Like the report said, the royalist army was camped _outside_ the walls.

The outer residences and shops had been evacuated, the citizenry brought within the walls or told to flee towards Verchiel to the west. The banners of the barons of the western Dales, the Exalted Plains and the Deauvin Flats, fluttering in the late-summer early-fall breeze.

Even better, the palisade was down in most places.

The royalists had used the material to construct a ring of small earth forts further out, topped with the wood and manned by rather confident looking crossbowmen. They stood between the city and the Imperial Highway, half way between the city walls and the raised stonework of the road. Directly between us and our objective, but that didn't matter. I had a real good chuckle at how exposed they were. I thought we had the firepower to blast them to shreds, rubble the walls and march in, no problem.

Until I spotted a work crew between two of the fortifications at the edge.

At first, I thought they were digging a latrine pit for the forts, but it didn't make sense. They were almost perfectly between the two nearest ones, and it was parallel with them, not behind them. Whatever they were doing, they were digging deep, but I couldn't see much with the binos. There was some tall grass that meant I couldn't make out the exact purpose of their work with the zoom I had. But I had a distasteful suspicion.

I went to Bellona at a run, drawing the attention of my companions, and practically ripped the precision firelance off its holster. My horse neighed its annoyance, but I slung the weapon over my shoulder and went back to my perch on the shoulder-height wall. I flipped the bipod out, and settled the weapon on the edge, sighting the work crew down the slightly more powerful telescopic sight. I heard the approach of multiple people, followed by the sensation of a hand on my shoulder. I knew who it was before she even spoke.

"What are you looking at?" Tam said.

"Hopefully, nothing important," I said, not believing that I would be that lucky.

I examined the workers. They were filthy up to the shoulders, covered in mud to their knees and dust beyond that, the latter of which was smeared on their faces where they had rubbed with their hands. That wasn't much of a clue except to tell me that they had dug at least as deep as a man or woman could stand. I swept the scope's view over the surrounding areas, looking for something else.

It took me a little while, but I found it. The grass gave it away. I noticed the grass seemed to disappear in a pattern, leaving long gaps at the top. A quick check with the eye not glued to the scope confirmed it, and picked out the pattern from one that was sickeningly familiar. Finally, I checked the theory by watching where the patterns ended in one place for a little while, and sure enough, two soldiers climbed up and out, probably to use the latrines or take a shift in the fort.

"I don't fucking believe it," I said, not moving my eye away, "Someone out there has a brain."

"What?" Julie asked.

"They've gone and dug trenches," I said, "So they can hide their soldiers from our cannons until we get too close to use them."

"All of them are in the ground, not in the town?" Leha's voice asked in surprise.

I moved my cheek off the firelance and propped myself up at the armpit on the wall. The whole crew stared back at me. Armen with his grin, Ciara with an interested look towards the enemy; Julie, Tam and Leha paying strict attention to me. At least I didn't have to go looking for them.

"Na, a third of them at most. More likely a quarter," I said, "It's hard to keep conscripts in a muddy hole all day, so they will probably rotate them. I doubt there's a single chevalier in a foxhole."

Julie had a good laugh at that.

"So, what does that mean?" Armen asked, "Do we attack directly or try and starve them out?"

"Don't have time to starve anyone out, and most of the town isn't behind the walls anyway," I said, "We attack... we're just going to have to be a bit smarter about it is all. Someone's aware of just what wins battles for us now, and they've taken precautions. The trenches might not be the only surprise in store."

"Which means what?" Tam asked, "Don't use the _gaatlok_?"

"Not at all," I replied, "I'll explain the plan in war council, but for now, I need to parley with whoever the hell is in charge down there."

"You want to see who has come up with this?" Julie said, a rhetorical question if ever there was one, "We're coming with you."

"I see no reason to leave behind the High-Chancellor, her bodyguard, the vice-Chancellor, First Enchanter, or the Treasurer," I smiled, "We'll make a full display. Who knows, maybe they'll surrender when we tell them they're doomed."

"Hopefully they'll believe it," Julie agreed, "It's a long way to Val Royeaux."

"Not so long that they're untouchable," Leha added, before hocking a gobbet of spit over the edge of the Highway at the enemy, "I can smell the gold already."

* * *

By the time we got the parley arranged, Soprano had arrived with her group, and we weren't going to be driven off any time soon. There seemed to be some reluctance on the part of our enemy, which had played right into our hands. Supposedly.

The meeting point was in the tall grass between the trenches and the ramp onto the highway, within reach of both armies. Well, the whole city was within our reach, but it was in volley-range of the royalist crossbows.

My own delegation and I sat in the saddle, at the top of the ramp in clear view, to signal we were ready. Tam carried my pale blue United Nations banner, which hung limp as the breeze had died down. We waited a few minutes, and sure enough, the royalist delegation made their way through the main street of the town and out into the field.

There were four of them, three masked nobles and one half-masked standard bearer. They crossed the trenches over wooden planks, perfectly confident, their heads held high. I felt a niggle of doubt scratch the back of my mind. Their city was under attack, their lives very much in danger. Either they were very good actors or they were exactly as confident as they seemed. Which, I could not tell. Orlesian nobles are trained from birth for such displays, but not all carry it so well.

"Let's get this over with," Julie said quietly, before raising her voice, "Forward!" She nudged Revas, the white horse taking off at a quick canter down the ramp.

Tam followed directly, leaving the rest of us to follow in a clump, particularly as both of those ahead sped to a gallop once they were off the ramp. By the time we caught up, they were slowing down deliberately to a full stop, and at first I didn't know why. I looked ahead, and saw no ambush or other threat laying in wait. I was about to ask, when I saw the reason.

Him.

On one side was well dressed noble in restrained dark colours, his armoured mask in black covering his face. On the other, a woman dressed in warm oranges and reds, with a staff and a courtly mask in red; a mage but if she was one of the Circle's creatures, I'd have eaten my beret. The standard bearer didn't stray near, keeping a good twenty yards off where he couldn't overhear anything.

The leader of their delegation was the centre of attention, for many reasons.

"Well, that explains a few things," I said quietly as we approached, "Think he'll recognise us?"

"Unless he's an imbecile, yes," Tam replied, "In fact, I think he already has."

"Maybe that's a good thing," Armen said.

"Absolutely not," Julie stated, "He knows too much."

"Someone mind telling me what in the pits you are all talking about?" Leha asked, "Who is he?"

"That answer's complicated," Ciara grinned.

The leader approached slowly. He wore a full dark blue mask, one that was very familiar to me. Around the rest of his head was the helmet of an Orlesian marshal, yellow feathers and all. The green and white colours of Chalons adorned his doublet and chainmail, the lion motif repeated. His horse was as large as Bellona was, but was startling white like Revas. He halted before us, and waited. It was me he was waiting for, and I was happy to oblige. I had a good opener too, I think.

"Ser Milo Duval of the Exalted Plains," I said loudly, "I see you got a new horse."

Nothing like reminding a man that you had his horse shot out from under him once before.

"Lord Hunt, good to see you again too," Duval replied without any hint of hostility, "And it is Marshal Duval now."

"How did that happen?" I asked, "I seem to recall you promising me discretion, the last time we met. I hope your promotion wasn't traded on the back of my secrets."

"No, but the word has spread about your true origins," Duval said, "Seems you were lying to me the first time regardless." Excellent deflection from the crux of my question.

Julie rumbled with laughter. "He has you there," she said.

"Madame Marteau, I am glad to see you are in good form too... or is it Madame Hunt now?" Duval continued.

"It is," Julie replied, "I've collected a few titles. Madame Hunt, Marquise de la Fayette, High-Chancellor of Free Orlais..."

"So it seems," Duval replied, "We have much to discuss."

"Marshal!" came a shout from behind.

I leaned to see the source, and found the noble riding up to join Duval with the masked mage. Looking back to the Marshal himself, and I found annoyance radiating off his posture. The man had slouched slightly in the saddle, a measure of disrespect evident to even the most casual observer.

"Enough of the pleasantries," the noble said, "Introduce us."

Duval held up his arm, indicating to the man.

"May I introduce Duke Remache de Lydes, overlord of the city and its demesne," the Marshal said, before moving his arm to point at the mage, "And Lady Lienne de Montsimmard, Arcane Advisor to the one true Emperor."

Duval indicated for me to make the introductions on our side. I decided to keep them short.

"I am Samuel Hunt, Viceroy of the Dales," I started.

"The 'peacekeeper' from another world," Remache said.

"Yeah, that one," I said, "To my right is Julie Hunt, High-Chancellor of Free Orlais; Ciara des Sabraes, Vice-Chancellor; and Leha Cadas, Treasurer."

I ignored a derisive scoff, with the pleasant thought that the man scoffing would be in chains by sunset the next day. Or dead on the field.

"To my left, Armen Cartier, First-Enchanter of the Circle of Magi at Hearth," I continued, "And Tam, who needs neither titles nor further introduction."

Tam didn't disappoint me, her vicious, canine smile appearing on her face, directed pointedly at Remache. Her free hand resting gently on the hilt of her longsword. The man could betray no feelings via his covered face, but quickly moved his horse further out of her reach. Mission accomplished. I thought of delightful ways of rewarding Tam for her perception of my intent, until my reverie was broken.

"A demon, a traitor, a knife-ear from the woods, a murdering dwarven smuggler, a rebellious apostate, and a Qunari whore," Remache spat, "These are the leaders that would overthrow and replace the nobility of Orlais? Ha!"

His insults were so petty, so obviously rooted in fear, they slid right off without sticking. Here was a man whose word couldn't be trusted even on the smallest thing. None of the others reacted either, clearly in agreement. Only thing of any real interest he said was his description of Leha, which peaked my curiosity, but that was a matter for after he was in our custody. Someone else was insulted, however.

"That is quite enough," said a voice, "You are embarrassing yourself. And us." It took me a few seconds to realise that it had been Lienne de Montsimmard who had spoken. Remache glared back at her in reply, requiring the Marshal's intervention.

"I agree," said Duval, "Remache, Gaspard gave me command until he arrives. You will restrain yourself." The Duke broke off his squaring-off with the mage.

"Very well, Marshal," he said.

"Good dog," Tam added with malicious glee, "Sit."

That almost got Remache going again. He moved towards his own sword, but a wave of Duval's hand was enough to settle him down. In absolute silence, he removed his hand from his blade and placed them on the rise of the saddle in front of him, eyes glued to Tam. She ignored him entirely, another wise move to my mind.

"You called this parley," Duval said, addressing us, "State your intentions."

"Your chevaliers shall surrender, your men-at-arms shall dump their weapons and return to their homes, and the city shall be occupied by the Free Army, pending elections to choose representatives for the _Assemblée Nationale,_ " Julie said quickly, "Remache de Lydes will be arrested and tried, his attack on the alienage of Lydes was a crime against humanity."

A splutter of protest erupted from the noble himself. "War crimes?!" he shouted, "By what right!"

"The right of conquest," Julie continued, looking to Duval, "Either you agree or the Free Army will be forced to bombard your camp and the walls. We will take the city street by street if necessary."

There was no response for a moment. We watched the three before us for any indication of an answer. Lienne was nonchalant, not even paying attention. She was just the protection. Remache desperately wanted to answer, it was obvious, but had to defer to the Marshal. It didn't look like Duval was seriously considering it either. Finally, he sighed loudly.

"I have authority to give you the following counteroffer," Duval said in a deep tone, "The Free Army shall retreat to Halamshiral. In return for your support against Celene and her loyalists, the true Emperor of Orlais, Gaspard de Chalons, will recognise your overlordship over the Dales."

He paused. Have to say, I did not see this coming. That Gaspard would want to ally with us, rather than crush us, was outside my calculations. Court opinion would have eviscerated him, if and when it got out. I began to realise that by the time it would have, Celene would have been betrayed on the road to Halamshiral as she chased us, putting the Royal Army and the Free Army both in Gaspard's own hands to use against dissenting nobles and pesky foreigners alike.

"Gaspard has nothing but admiration for your skill in battle and your competence," Duval continued, "He is even willing to tolerate the measures you have taken with regard to changing the government, provided they are restricted to the Dales and every subject takes an oath of allegiance to his dynasty."

I looked to Julie. Her eyes were hard, and her lips thinned. She didn't trust the offer. Couldn't ignore the plight of the rest of Orlais either. Especially not for a person like Gaspard, who would likely tax and conscript them to pay the price in gold and blood for foreign wars.

The truth was that the offer was directed primarily at me, but I had no means of telling that at Lydes.

"What about the mages?" Armen asked, "Do we get sent back to towers for supporting the cause?"

"The Empire already recognises the establishment of the Circle at Hearth," Duval replied, "Gaspard has no reason to interfere with it. It is a matter for the Divine, not the crown of Orlais."

Armen shrugged at the rather non-committal answer, and shook his head at me. He didn't trust the offer either. Julie leaned, and whispered to Ciara. Who proceeded to move to the front.

"We refuse," Ciara said. Duval's head dropped. Disappointed, I think. Remache looked positively joyful, no doubt thinking bad thoughts about our vice-chancellor and how the whole thing would backfire on her kind. Duval returned up to look at us.

"I must warn you, an army of one hundred thousand is marching here as we speak," he said, "They will arrive in three days."

"We will take the city before that," I said.

"Perhaps, but how will you fare without your new weapons?" Duval continued, "It is no secret that you have been buying up all the brimstone in the Empire. Buying from a broker in Mont-de-Glace, sourced from the sulphur lakes. We have cut your supply. It is my understanding that Lady Seryl de Jader bars the way to Orzammar, the only other source that you can reach without going across the Waking Sea."

My jaw clenched. We had a huge stockpile of blackpowder, Julie had made a large mixing machine that churned the stuff out at a massive rate, but I hadn't anticipated any serious disruption to the supply of ingredients. Who the hell robbed a cart full of sulphur? Why would guards even stop it? It seemed absurd to me. Still, it wasn't a complete disaster. We had more than enough to whip Gaspard.

"We have enough," I said, more or less confident that I was right, "Appreciate the concern."

"I appreciate you kindly giving us a clue about blackpowder," Duval replied with amusement, "I ask again. Will you accept Gaspard's offer and join us?"

"No," growled Julie, brooking no further question. The Marshal inclined his head respectfully, a chevalier's salute to valiant opponents.

"I look forward to meeting you on the field of battle," Duval said, with genuine enthusiasm. He turned his horse around, and rode off. Lienne followed at once. Remache gave us another look, and only then did so.

"Leha, we have enough blackpowder stocked to slap these idiots around, right?" I asked.

"Definitely," Leha replied, "But we'll need to take Jader, clear the supply problem up before heading to Val Royeaux."

"Good," I said, "Jader won't be a problem."

We were getting ahead of ourselves.

* * *

The evening saw the arrival of our foot troops and the newly minted National Guard units formed from the volunteers. They were late, too late for us to attack that day. I wasn't sure it would make a difference, and I am still not sure it would have, but I ordered the army to rest.

At dawn, I issued the orders for the army's starting positions for the assault, and called the war council. We met in a tent on the Highway, one of its canvass sides pulled up so we had a full view of both our arrangements and those of the enemy. On a table beside it was a map of the city's defences, a huge and detailed sketch of the city from one of Leha's contacts with the new trenchworks drawn on. Chess pieces belonging to Louise de Villars represented the troops.

When Armen finally entered the tent, the late arrival to the council, I motioned for everyone to join me so I could explain my proposal. McNulty, Soprano, Mike, Louise, Velarana, Barris, Isewen, and Armen all crowded around two sides of the table, leaving the third free for Julie, Ciara and Leha by virtue of rank. And Tam by virtue of strength of character. I took up the fourth side, the city behind me.

"Our objective here was not to destroy the city, or even to take it, but to destroy the army guarding it and move on," I began, "Without the army, it could be ignored easily, or toppled from within by sympathisers."

"Are there sympathisers?" Velarana inquired.

"They've fled with the rest of the town, but if we destroy the army, they'll all come back and the town is ours," I replied, "Unfortunately, the army seems to have decided to use it as a large set of fortifications, so it looks like we have to take it regardless. Standing in our way are the outer defences, the town beyond the wall, and the town behind the wall."

"The walls themselves not being much of a problem when you can blow them to pieces in a couple of hours," Leha joked.

"True," I said, "Though keeping them as intact as possible is preferred. If the one hundred thousand that Duval mentioned does show up, we'll have to retreat and leave a strong garrison, to encourage them to split their forces so we can beat those armies individually. They can't take walls as easily as we can."

"What do you intend to do about the enemy?" McNulty asked, "They're dug in deeper than a tick on a doglord's ass."

General snickering at the expense of the Fereldans commenced. I shook my head, having no real experience of that country and its people, nor the patience to share the rather pointless rivalry. Hearing them insult the place in Orlesian would probably make a few of them go supernova. I was speaking Orlesian far more than Common by this point, hell the whole war council proceeded in the tongue, but even I sympathised with the Fereldans there.

"We'll attack in four stages," I said, "The first thing we have to deal with is the two sections of outer defences. They're not all that well protected. Trenches will help them a lot, but most of their army won't be in them. There's not enough space for twenty thousand troops within the walls either, so they'll be hiding in the town or if Duval is actually less intelligent than he seems, they'll be drawn up for battle."

"You want to use the rockets on them," Soprano said, completing my thought.

"Exactly," I said.

"How many?" Julie asked.

"All of them," I replied.

The idea was met with stunned silence. We had a little over a hundred and twenty of the things ready, but it's not like we had any shortage of targets to use them on either.

"What about the army coming to relieve the city?" Barris asked, "Won't you need the new weapons to deal with that?"

I looked to Julie for the answer.

"The rockets are much easier to make," Julie said, "Almost every blacksmith in Orlais can make metal pipes out of thin metal, every noble and most merchants want them for water and sewage pipes. In fact, most of the rockets we have now are made out of the privy pipes of the châteaux in the Emprise."

An infectious grin plastered itself on most of the faces present.

"You mean we're shooting nobles' own dirt back at them?" Mike chuckled, "That's justice, if ever I heard it."

A groan of exasperation came from Louise de Villars. "Quite," the chevalier said, to deflect the glances.

"Also helps that it takes no special training to use the rockets, at least compared with the cannons," I said, "Only reason we were able to get our cannons working is because we had hundreds of Tranquil sitting around doing jack. They'll join the first stage too, bombarding the earth forts and raking the tops of the walls with shot, to let the second stage advance."

"So we are going to get stuck in," Louise chirped, "Here I was thinking we'd just shoot them into submission, making jokes about privy pipes the whole time."

"We could, but we don't have the time," I replied, "The second stage, we march on the trenches."

I went to the map and moved the black pawns and bishops from their gathering point on the highway. Towards the first line of white pawns and rooks, representing Duval's shovel handiwork.

"After the bombardment comes the easy part, which is why I'm giving it to the volunteers we've picked up," I explained, "Our newer Free Army units and the National Guard will take the trenches all at once, and whatever is left of the earthen forts. That's twenty thousand or so fresh troops against maybe five or six thousand in the trenches wanting to keep their heads down."

"Under whose command?" Mike asked.

"Yours," I replied, "You seem to have built up the best rapport with our new troops, so the job is yours, along with a field promotion to General."

Mike saluted, swelled with pride. She understood I was putting a great deal of trust in her. That she did get it was entirely why I did trust her.

"Once the trenches are taken, the second stage troops will hold that line for the third," I said, "The Free Army will move in to take the part of the town located outside of the walls. After the rockets, I have no idea how much resistance we'll face. Half of the place could be on fire, or it could be mostly intact barring a few building collapses. That's why we have our more hardened troops to go in at this stage, the fighting should be harder."

"That's my command," Soprano said, "Correct?"

I moved the black rooks into the part of the town within the outer curve of the walls near the eastern gate.

"Yes, it is," I confirmed, "All the firelancers not assigned to the Peacekeepers will be yours. Anyone gets it into their head to set up behind barricades or shieldwalls in those narrow streets and alleys, you give them volleys and clear them out with the bayonets. Clear?"

"As crystal from Serault, my lord," Soprano replied.

"Once the outer town is taken, comes the hardest part," I continued. I moved the King and Queen into the town through the eastern gate.

"The Peacekeepers, McNulty's Grenadiers in front, will clear out the town," I said, "Assuming they haven't surrendered yet."

"They won't," said Ciara, "After what that Duke said yesterday? He'd rather die than be beaten by elves and peasants."

"Or chevaliers," Louise added, "The man is a decadent imbecile with delusions of glory. He isn't well liked among the order." But he was very well connected. Remache was a little too valuable to waste.

"The Peacekeepers will have the hardest fight, but it's at this point I expect people will try to flee through the northern gate," I said, moving the knights to the other side of the city, "Louise and Isewen, the Guard and the Lancers will surround the other parts of the city and intercept anyone attempting to flee. If they're nobles, you have permission to use absolute force to do so."

Louise shot me a sour look, lips pursed in irritation. My brow lifted, confusion clouding my mind.

"Thoughts, de Villars?" I asked.

"The Vice-Regal Guard should stay with the Viceroy," she replied.

"The Viceroy has to stay on the Highway to coordinate everything," I sighed, "If I fight in every battle, I'll have no ammunition left for the important ones." This would be my first battle where I myself would not fight, in either world. I wasn't pleased about that, but I understood the need. So too did my companions.

"And we don't need our hands held all the way to the gates of heaven," Soprano joked.

"That sounds like a dirty joke, Colonel," Leha added, her voice level. No need, I hope, to make explicit what _she_ meant by 'the gates of heaven'. Soprano let an amused breath escape her, which almost got me going. Thankfully, I had work to keep me on course.

I became a little grim for the next part.

"Your chevaliers aren't going to be much use in tight streets," I said to Louise, "But your role is still vital. If Remache, Duval, or that mage of theirs escape, they'll cause much more trouble later. Absolutely _no one_ is to escape, is that understood?"

"Yes, my lord," repeated Louise and Isewen both.

* * *

Our army marched into its battle formations, the eager volunteers in front, our veterans behind. Our enemy presented themselves too, filling the gaps between the town's streets, poking their heads out of windows, flying banners from the trenches.

Rockets screeched and moaned off of their carts, smoke trails lining the morning sky with white over our heads. The windless quiet was broken too by the booms of the explosives, echoing off the walls. The trenches, the town, the forts, all were showered. The rockets were designed to explode at about shoulder height, having long booms coming out of their noses that detonated the lyrium ignition charges. Shrapnel tore through the tall grass, into the fortifications, among the city streets. Our cannons waited until the dust cleared, and made their contribution. Explosive shells wrecked the enemy forts, solid bolts smashed the tops of the walls.

We cheered as the enemy died on their feet, or desperately hid in fear.

The volunteers, for so long under the boot of the chevaliers, did not wait for the order. They rumbled forward, blue banners crested by silver halla idols moving with them. The band played Dixie at 120. Mike moved the more disciplined troops of the Free Army up behind, but they were completely outpaced. The great columns charged towards the trenches. I awaited the hail of crossbow bolts from the survivors. It didn't come. My confusion grew when the scent of bacon fat wafted through the air. By the time I realised what that signified, it was too late.

Fire-pots shot out from behind the cover of the high walls, thrown by trebuchets in the ruins of the alienage, built out of the very wood that had once sheltered its inhabitants. Most of our troops were still in the open, and the siege weapons had been aimed beforehand to create a killzone. The trenches were not only protection, but a trap.

The incendiaries fell among our troops. Whole handfuls of men and women, burning alive. The volunteers pressed forwards regardless, heedless. They took the trenches, losing so many, but could not move forwards or backwards. Fleeing would have been met with more firepots, though many did try to. Some succeeded. The enemy to the front had finally found his crossbows, so sheltering in the lee of the wall wasn't going to happen either.

With our men and women pinned, I turned the cannon on the alienage. I had avoided doing so before, as breaches were perfect places to defend, but clearly that wasn't Duval's plan here. With catapults throwing fire at us, I needed to remove them from the equation. For hours, we pounded the walls. I even tried firing the cannons at a high angle over the damn things, with little success. It was just a matter of time before we got through, but a real sense of urgency was given thanks to a volley being launched against the trenches every fifteen minutes.

At last, we penetrated the walls, and McNulty formed up his Grenadiers to storm the breach. Minutes before I was to give the order, our cavalry came racing down the Highway. Louise and Isewen delivered the news.

The enemy was upon us.

Duval had lied. Gaspard's forces had not been three days away, but less than two. The lie had one purpose; to commit us to the battle, to hold us so we could be caught. Mounted chevaliers and crossbowmen were less than an hour from us, the foot soldiers maybe a day away. We might drive them off, but the siege was essentially over. We had to retreat before we were attacked in the open the next day.

The choice was a horrible one. Abandon the troops in the trenches, volunteers who had pledged their lives to us, or likely suffer a massive defeat.

I tried to split the difference. I launched one last attempt to get them out. We got a message through, telling them to get ready to run. Our forces moved up to cover their escape, to tempt the trebuchets to fire at us rather than them.

When the time came, Duval was ready. Our Grenadiers made a feint attack against the breach in the wall and the cannon fired through it to cause as much chaos among the siege weapons' crews as possible. It wasn't enough. When our people began getting out of the trenches, a difficult task as many of the ladders inside them had been damaged by our attacks, the royalists' pounced. Their infantry rushed forwards, too fast for us to retarget them, and closed with ours. Chevaliers exited the gates and swung around to envelop the volunteers. A good number escaped, but the vast majority did not. The first column of Gaspard's relief force showed its face minutes afterwards.

In the end, we withdrew.

We lost a full third of our force. Only a thousand dead, but as many as ten thousand captured, all of them from the National Guard and including almost all of the wounded. Five thousand had escaped the trap.

I had watched the entire battle with a sense of detachment. It was only as we began to leave that I felt like someone had ripped my heart out. It still feels that way, when I think of it.

* * *

 _AUTHOR'S NOTE: Only one more large chapter left in the Revolution volume, most likely split into two for publishing._

 _There should be a poll up on my profile about the Outlanders story that will start in mid-November, about which particular Outlander you'd like to see first._

 _Once this volume is complete, the story will go on hiatus for October. I intend to both sort out the exact plan for the next volume and finish Battlefield 2183 in time for its second anniversary. I might also edit and publish a completed 40k story I have had floating about for five years or so._

 _All this might prove difficult to complete as I keep having good ideas like a Stargate-ME crossover idea that no one seems to have tried out yet, a post-Fallout 4 story about the life in the aftermath of a Brotherhood victory, and continuing ideas for the Bioshock-Alien crossover story I already have up. I really wish I could get paid for this shit._

 _ **Katkiller-V:** Moved up the talk with Briala just for you. Originally, it was meant to happen in the first chapter of the next volume, but it did fit better where it is, I think._

 _ **5 Coloured Walker:** If you haven't played the Witcher games, you really should. _

_The man who threatened to report me did so anonymously via a guest review._

 _ **Raw666:** Several Game of Thrones ideas have come to mind. Originally, I considered both the Game of Thrones universe and the Elder Scrolls universe to write Outlander in. Dragon Age worked the best by far because of how magic works in it, and things seem to be stuck in the Renaissance on Thedas rather than in medieval times for both of the other universes._

 _ **Natzi Sumbitch:** Congratulations, you win the cookies. Aurelia's look is indeed based on Yennefer, from the Witcher series of games and books. Seems to me if you want to scream 'powerful sorceress' black curls are the way to go. Though obviously Aurelia doesn't have the violet eyes, Tam already had dibs on that colour._

 _ **RiBreadMan:** I can't wait to write it._

 _ **Guest:** Thanks a million._


	35. Chapter 35: Cold Harbor

**Chapter Thirty-Five: Cold Harbor**

The night after our retreat, Julie and I hid ourselves away in camp. I felt bone crushing shame over the defeat. I walked around dazed by it, shellshocked that everything had gone so wrong so early. I went through the necessary motions for setting our camp on automatic, while I watched Julie do the same where dealing with the backlash was concerned. The army was still together, but for how long, I wasn't sure. The myth of our invincibility had been broken, and both of us knew it.

We had both come to the same thought. As soon as the sky was a deep blue, we ran into each other at the wagon containing what we both thought we would need. Without so much as a word, we agreed to work together and took what we needed to a supply tent quietly. As quietly as one could haul large metal boxes along the ground, carrying packs. It would not be long before someone came looking for us for one reason or another. We needed to be ready before anyone could stop us.

I cracked open the boxes, and we started loading up.

We stripped down to our smallclothes, and helped each other layer one another from there. Fresh fatigues. Kevlar plate-carrier armour vests. Combat webbing, knee and shin pads, black boots. I felt better with each thing I put on, the natural weight seeming to relieve that which was all in my head. The understanding of what we were to attempt was almost like a drug against the shame.

We both sat down on stools by the metal boxes, and opened them. The weapons within stood in tidy rows, ready to be loaded and used. Only now did a thread of rationality cross me.

"We need to talk," I said.

"I'm doing this," Julie replied instantly, pulling a firelance from a box.

"So am I," I continued, "But we need to talk about how."

Julie eyed me briefly, like I was talking nonsense. She searched the boxes for a moment, before hefting the precision firelance out of the 'bed box' we usually kept underneath our bed in Hearth. She carefully gave it to me, and when it was in my arms, pointed to it.

"You use that to do what needs to be done," she said, "I keep anything else off your back with this."

She lightly slapped the side of the firelance balanced across her lap.

"That's the plan," she concluded, "We do it and come back alive."

To say that it was a long shot is both a bad pun and an underestimation of the challenges we would face. But it was as good a plan as any.

To signal my agreement, I held out four loaded magazines. Julie smiled with her mouth, but it didn't spread to her eyes. She took the offered items and began stuffing them into the pouches. I threw over another, which she caught in mid-air and snapped it into place in the firelance itself. A dramatic pull of its bolt followed. It was ready, and so were we.

We continued loading up, closing up the boxes as we finished with them. I grabbed Patel's own firelance, a shorter one, and passed out the last of the grenades I had from Earth. We hung them from our armour. We stood up and put on our helmets.

"You got your goggles?" I asked.

Julie held up the night vision goggles, and snapped them to the front of her helmet as she had seen me do a dozen times.

"You know how to use them?"

She nodded. "I remember you doing it."

"Good," I said, "Let's see if the coast is clear."

We went to the cloth partition serving as the door of the tent, rounding a few supply crates. Julie bade me to stop a few feet from it, and moved it slightly to peek outside.

" _Merde_ ," she said, backing off from it.

Before I could ask, in burst Tam, still in her own Earth-panoply. Her face was crestfallen, eyes wide and mouth flat. A knife of guilt went through me.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

Julie and I exchanged a glance. We couldn't say it.

"You are dressed for battle," Tam stated.

"We are," Julie admitted.

Tam put her head in her hands. "Please tell me that you do not intend what I think you do."

The pressure built, and I felt the knife of guilt twist in my chest. It was too much.

"We're going to assassinate Gaspard, Duval... Remache if we can," I said quietly, "Set up on the road and wait until they pass. Take them out and run."

Tam stared at me like I had two heads. "That's suicide. You both know so, and I won't let you do it."

What we thought of as our last option taken from us. Julie buckled. She dropped her firelance, fell to her knees and sobbed. Tears began streaming down her face in a flood, but she made very little noise. It sent a shudder down my spine. It hadn't been a good month for Julie, to say the least. Both Tam and I scrambled to her.

Tam took her in a hug, and held her close. "It's alright," she soothed, "We'll get through this."

"We led them to defeat, all because we wanted vengeance," Julie whimpered, "Gaspard will kill us all."

"No he won't," Tam said firmly, "You two will think of something to save us, without sacrificing yourselves on some insane chance."

Threading my hand with Julie's for safety, I felt compelled to try and explain.

"It's the only path we can see," I choked out, "If we cut the head off the snake, maybe we can negotiate with Celene using Briala as a go-between, or..." Complete bullshit, even I knew it was as I spoke the thought.

Tam's violet eyes pierced me, and I shut my damn mouth. "You can't negotiate if you are dead," she said, "And who will lead us when you are? Ciara is too young, Briala hasn't earned the trust of our army, de Villars is a noble, the other officers don't have your experience... _You_ are our only hope."

Our Qunari lover drew me into the embrace. She kissed Julie softly, and me afterwards.

"Tomorrow, you will command as if nothing happened," she stated, matter-of-factly, "You will assure every man and woman out there with your confidence. Even if you cannot bring victory, you will save their lives at the very least. Do you understand?"

I wasn't entirely sure if I could do that, but I gulped the doubt down. "I do," I said, rallying.

Julie's green irises emerged from Tam's shoulder. "So do I," she sniffled.

"Good," Tam said, rising, "Now that is settled, you both need sleep. Come."

We got to our feet, not bothering to shed our armour and weapons. Tam brought us by the hand out of the tent, where Armen, Ciara and Leha were waiting. Armen gave a single nod. Ciara let out a loud, relieved breath. Leha saluted with her flask, and took a swig. I snatched it out of her hand, took one myself, and gave it back.

"Better?" the dwarf asked.

"You have no idea," I sighed.

Armen leaned forwards on his staff towards me. "No matter what, we've got your back," he said sternly, "Don't forget that." The unspoken admonishment for leaving them out of the plot sitting there on the table, unaddressed in words but obvious to us all.

"We won't," Julie said, gaining back some of her usual assured tone.

With that said, the other three wandered off. There was no need for any more discussion on it, provided we kept our promise the next morning. Tam managed to slip us back into our own tent without any notice. Everyone else must have been exhausted or too demoralised to stay awake too, as the camp's thoroughfares were empty and the lookouts atop the Imperial Highway were the only visible people at all.

We piled up what we had put on in a chest, unloading the weapons first, and fell into bed. I hit a deep sleep in minutes, despite the camp cot we had being too small for three people, Tam using my stomach and Julie using my shoulder as pillows. At least it was warm. It was early September now, the night humidity had broken and the evening chill had begun.

I had a dream that I was swallowed by a whale repeatedly, each instance sending me to a different time and place until again the whale would come. It wasn't a nightmare... but it wasn't a good dream either.

* * *

As we had went to sleep early, I woke early, confused about the dream. Yet I felt immensely better about myself. The guilt and shame had subsided significantly, leaving my chest and throat feeling more free, letting me breath easier.

My waking had the knock-on effect of bringing both Tam and Julie out of their slumber. There just wasn't any room for movement, so the slightest jerk from one of us had the other two moaning objections. A general idea of what I was to do that day formed as I untangled myself from my lovers.

The first step was simple. I washed up a little, went to the chest again, and put on the whole panoply of fatigues, armour and weapons again. Julie observed me out of a cracked eyelid as I finished up, which opened wider when she realised what I had done. I snorted amusement at her worry.

"No need to fear," I said quietly, "I'm not running off to go alone. Just presenting myself as a soldier should."

"It's about time we got up," Julie groaned, "Wait a few and we'll join you."

I watched the two of them do as I had, thanking the Maker that I had such people in my life, and gathered my thoughts.

Duval had delayed us just long enough for Gaspard to arrive in force, though the exact size of the army facing us remained a mystery. It was larger than ours, double at the very least. We had lost the initiative, that much was clear. Getting it back meant getting in and kicking the shit out of them at every point they advanced from now on, making them pay for every yard of ground with blood.

The problem was that there wasn't enough space to do it. To my mind, Halamshiral was the prize to take, and it wasn't twenty miles away from where I was standing at the time. Sure, the city is surrounded by foothills, excellent for our artillery, not to mention the river over which there was only one bridge. The man who would be Emperor had enough troops to pin the entire Free Army in place, while sending Duval around our positions with cavalry to occupy the hills and bridge. We wouldn't be able to retreat safely and quickly enough to stop him.

I came to a conclusion.

Leaving the girls to it, I exited the tent to find Soprano, Mike and McNulty waiting, the latter yawning wider than any man I had ever seen. The other two stood to attention, faces grim, followed by the third as soon as he noticed me.

I ignored them for a moment, and took note of the bustle of the camp. The soldiers were far from asleep now, moving about with packs, loading up their ponies or horses, tossing dismantled tents onto carts. They didn't seem depressed, but it wasn't like our soldiers to express their discontent openly. Discipline had been instilled in the majority of them, and the volunteers from Halamshiral were most likely all too aware of the threat now facing their city.

"The Free Army awaits your command, my lord," said Mike, in her customary booming voice, "We will be ready to move in a half hour. Our scouts report the enemy are breaking camp themselves." It took me a few seconds, but I realised she was trying to cheer me up by assuring me that the army could still be called that.

"Thank you, general," I said slowly, "You'll take most of our people and the National Guard back to Halamshiral. You're to prepare a defence of the hills, the Highway's bridge over the river, and the city itself."

"What about us, my lord?" Soprano said, "I get the implication that the Peacekeepers won't be joining the others."

"No," I said, "We'll take all the firelancers from the Free Army, and stick to Gaspard's force like a tick on a dog."

"Doesn't that mean we'll be outnumbered," McNulty said, not phrasing it as a question, "By something like ten to one, at least."

"Seven thousand soldiers are a lot easier to move than seventy thousand, Colonel," I replied, "Considering we have horses for everyone and the supplies, we'll be able to strike, move, and strike again whenever we want. They'll besiege Halamshiral, and we'll bleed them from the outside as they throw themselves against the walls."

"What about Celene?" Soprano asked, "Won't that be almost impossible once the Royal Army joins Gaspard?"

"Celene is two weeks away, assuming she can reassert control of the navy. She and Gaspard hate each other," I said, "If we weaken Gaspard enough, Celene may take the opportunity to crush him. Briala has informed us that the Grand-Duke is jumping the queue by attacking us himself. Then we may only have to fight the Empress' forces."

Soprano frowned. "That's too good to be true," she said.

"You may be right," I said, "But we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. For now, Gaspard is the concern. Every soldier we kill increases the chances of him holding off, at least until the Empress arrives. Since we won't be fighting far from our capital, we can raise every able-bodied person willing to fight. Gaspard's men will undoubtedly wreck havoc on people's homes if they get near, it shouldn't be too hard to convince them to fight."

The sound of horse hooves on soil drew my attention away from my subordinates. Major Isewen was riding hard through the camp, scattering all before her. Frustrated, I rubbed the bridge of my nose. Such an arrival could only mean news, and it was unlikely to be good news.

"Viceroy, our scouts have seen the enemy's own scouts move off," the Major reported, "They've left their pickets and are not coming towards us."

My heart jumped. "Are they withdrawing?" I asked.

"No, they're moving south," Isewen replied, "Spreading out along all the roads in that direction as fast as they can."

I froze in place, not from shock but from the sudden understanding.

"Gaspard doesn't care about Halamshiral," I thought aloud, "He's a military man. For all its worth, it's not the centre of the rebellion."

"Hearth," said Mike, "He's going for Hearth."

"Smart man," I said, "He won't have any trouble crossing rivers or hill country if he comes from the north east."

"No shortage of forests through that way, though," Soprano added, "We'll be able to hit him a lot easier."

"After Lady Doucy's old turf, sure," I agreed, recalling the likely routes from one of the old maps in Pierre's collection, "But he'll be able to use alternative routes if we block one."

"I presume this means I'm not going to Halamshiral?" Mike asked.

Tam and Julie emerged from the tent, dressed , to find us all huddled together. They approached, and the others bowed to Julie as apparently was proper. She bowed in turn. Their arrival gave me an idea.

"Yeah," I replied at last, "Slight change of plan."

* * *

A week later, a few miles outside the town of Vindargent.

It's beautiful country, that part of the Western Dales. Unlike anything I had seen, really. It was tamed, a garden, rather than possessing the less refined charm of the farms stuck between deep forest that the rest of the region has. It was open as you could get, right up until the forests began again about fifty yards to my back. In summer, you'd see vines growing everywhere, but the harvest had been completed early that year. The threat of marching armies eating it up was a little too real to ignore.

Despite all this beauty, my eyes were fixated on something else. Under the shade of a huge oak, its leaves turned red and gold of fall, a collection of burned wood and metal by the side of the road. The road itself was charred. These remains were the reason why I had chosen this ground, or at least why I had chosen it out of a selection of similar points. The bodies had been removed for a more complete cremation, so there was no bones or cooked flesh to be seen, but that hardly mattered. The place was haunted, or at least, I hoped it was.

It was the exact place where Lady Camille Doucy, _Baronne des Nouveaux-Landes_ , had been trapped in her carriage and burned alive. With her children and her coachman.

No better place to make the Peacekeepers' first stand against the Grand-Duke's forces. I was no scholar where the Fade is concerned, but in choosing the site of a vicious set of homicides committed with the purpose of stopping us, I thought perhaps we might get aid from the other side in some small way. If not an actual intervention by spirits, then that my men and women would fight harder when standing upon the ground where the crime against humanity had been perpetrated.

I shifted my attention down the road and across the fields that Duval would send his men at us. It was ten in the morning by my watch, and there was still no sign. Blondie and Isewen had been dispatched forward with our cavalry to make sure the royalists would follow the right route. I kicked the dirt of the road. I was getting impatient.

A flapping sound distracted me.

Searching for the source, I found myself being stared at. On a lower branch of the oak tree, a white headed eagle sat, golden eyes tracking my movement. One of the eagles that had perched on Julie's warhammer at Sahrnia, to be exact. It had to be, though it was a very strange coincidence. I tilted my head in thought, and the bird did the exact same thing.

"Now, what are you doing here?" I chuckled, unable to help myself.

The eagle straightened its head again, not making a sound. Eagles don't tend to be chatty. I crossed my arms and watched it for a few minutes. Between cleaning its feathers and scanning the surroundings by turning its white head, it didn't do anything offensive. I should have been bored, or worrying about more pressing matters, but I was captured by the creature. It was handsome, and its reason for being there was an intriguing mystery.

One that was brought to a close shortly, as two small corpses fell from the sky onto the ground a little way in front of me. I jumped on the spot, taken completely by surprise. They landed on the blackened part of the road, perfectly. A little mangled, I still recognised them for what they were by their large ears. Two fennecs, the fox-like animals that infested every part of the Dales and beyond.

I looked up, searching for where they came from. The shadow of another eagle, the dark-golden feathers telling me what I suspected. The other eagle from Sahrnia circled downwards in a spiral. Its white-headed companion flapped its wings and sailed down too, both of them meeting at the fennecs. Together, they began gorging themselves, ripping the dead prey apart with claw and beak. I watched them with a strange sense of satisfaction, the soft sound of tearing flesh the only noise heard over the heaving of the leaves behind. It was hypnotic.

"It's an omen," said a voice from behind.

This time, I didn't jump at the unexpected presence. It was Tiberius, and upon checking, I saw that Briala was with him as well. Both were now dressed in the restrained green garb of the Free Army, the former as a disguise for his actual allegiance and the latter as a display of her commitment to her new one. I approved, enough so to actually reply to the magister's seemingly ridiculous statement.

"Is it?" I said, eyeing the eagles again, "Just seems like lunch to me."

"Does it?" Tiberius asked, levelling his eyes at me.

"Alright, I recognise them," I admitted, "Doesn't mean anything. The birds have been following Julie around for months now."

"Madame Marteau is not here," Tiberius noted.

"No... so?" I said, "What brings _you_ out here?"

"You've been gone some time," Tiberius replied, "Your warriors are beginning to wonder what you are doing."

"So you invited yourself to find out," I said.

"No, I came to speak privately," Tiberius said, "I brought Briala. We are in agreement about something that you need to address."

I looked at Briala for confirmation. She remained passive. Not wanting to admit anything in common with the magister, no doubt.

"Well, what is it?" I asked, folding my hands on top of the butt of my firelance.

"You have lost," Tiberius said, "You may not yet know it, but the war you envisaged is over."

Heat rising to my face, I stormed over to the magister.

"Don't push your luck, Tiberius," I said as calmly as I could, "This war isn't over until I'm as dead as those fennecs over there." Anything less would have been the most grave insult to those who had died for our cause. It was the notion of giving up when so many had been sacrificed already that pushed me to rage.

Tiberius met my gaze without flinching, anything less would have been truly surprising. The man had been at war longer than I had been alive. But it wasn't an effortless defiance. Of all the beings on Thedas, the magister had unique reasons to fear me. His magic could not harm me, and at an arm's reach, I could do much to hurt him. He remained silent, which calmed me a good deal. He wasn't apologising, but he had not meant to offend.

"You misunderstood, Viceroy," Briala explained, "What we mean to say is that your strategy will make you lose. I propose a different one."

I turned my head to look at her, and found something like alarm in her eyes. I also spotted Felassan lurking close by, where he had not been before. I had scared them both. Finally containing myself, I backed off from Tiberius, eliciting a sigh of relief from the man.

"Best get talking then," I said, crossing my arms.

"Gaspard will take Hearth," Briala explained, "He has too many troops for you to resist, and ..."

"We are gathering all the former men-at-arms of the nobles," I cut-in, "We might not have a hundred thousand, but we will have enough to break any siege."

"If you can gather them in one place, in enough time," Tiberius said, "Listen to her, and then complain."

I grumbled, but waved my fingers for her to continue.

"You need to do battle in the elven way; fight on the run," Briala said, getting right to the point, "If you choose a place that you refuse to give up, Gaspard will take it with his numbers, or Celene with hers if you manage beat him."

"Asymmetrical warfare," I thought aloud, "It wouldn't be a bad idea, except Gaspard would not hesitate to kill everyone in any area we hid in." Indeed he would not.

"He'd use the threat of that to get the location of our soldiers out of locals," I continued, "The war is too hot now, it won't work."

"You have many mages, Sam," Tiberius replied, "I can teach them techniques that allow them to hide large numbers of people, or even whole villages if they work together." Which meant we could probably have hidden Hearth, though it was so large by that point that it would have been a huge feat of magic. And it wasn't like people wouldn't know where to stake out the roads to it. Still, it was a good offer, but as always with Tiberius, it was for his agenda.

"Here it comes," I said, "What price do you ask for teaching us this?"

"You know what price," Tiberius urged, "There is no need for you to leave for Tevinter. Indeed, without you, this movement you have created would fall. Stay and lead your people, I will remain here to help you. Take Aurelia as your bride, keep those dear to you close, and together we will bring down the Empress and the Grand-Duke."

I rubbed my temples, not sure how to respond. This was the first time I seriously considered the offer. I had no choice but to do so. Seeing my battle plan at Lydes fall to pieces, and ten thousand of my soldiers taken away in chains, it had changed me. The sense of immortality I had felt after deflecting the magic of hundreds of mages, after crushing the armies of the Emprise, it was gone. I hated my new-found vulnerability.

But still, I could not accept his offer. I didn't consider my life as belonging to myself alone any more, plus it was two birds, one stone for Tevinter if I did agree.

"No," I said at last, "We're not there yet."

Tiberius took it well for someone with a bug up his ass about the issue. "I will remain with the army until you see it is the only way," he said.

"I'd appreciate that," I said, "Whatever else, you're welcome to stay. We need every bit of help we can get."

Tiberius bowed and left, walking up the road towards the forest and our army, brushing close by Felassan as he did so. The Dalish mage made a disgusted face at the magister, but it didn't result in anything. I can only imagine that pleased him greatly. What a collection of allies I had, I thought to myself as I watched.

"Viceroy," Briala said, "I hope you know what you are doing."

"Look, your idea is a good one, but I have to try it this way first," I said, "I can't abandon people in the villages and towns to the mercy of Gaspard's chevaliers for strategic reasons. I have to try and beat him first. Anything less and we're admitting weakness. That would be terrible for morale, and we're already beat to hell on that front. We'd pay for it in blood too."

"For what it's worth, I still believe we can win," Briala said, "I am sure many feel the same. Just don't risk everything."

"I'll try," I said in what I hoped was a reassuring tone.

The eagles flapped away, up into the sky, a signal of the arrival of another visitor to my lonely picket. Grand-Cleric Brandon on horseback no less, red and white robes and all.

"Viceroy!" she called as she came on, "News from Hearth."

My mood lifted, and I waved her over. She dismounted, and with a glance at Briala, joined us.

"Good news, I hope," I said.

"Oh yes," she said, "Hearth, Halamshiral, the Wolf's Lair, _les Grandes-Collines_ , and _le Midi_ have all began preparations for sieges. The changes you proposed to Hearth's defences have begun, and your tools are being moved inside the walls. Blackpowder is being made day and night... the High-Chancellor and the Qunari send their love."

I snorted with amusement at the last part of the message. No way that was what was said.

"You mean the High-Chancellor and the Qunari are still angry for sending them away from the fight," I corrected, "But in their heart it is because they're afraid for my safety."

"As you say, Viceroy," Brandon replied with a smile.

"See Briala, all hope isn't lost," I added, "I suggest you go get something to eat. The eagles had their lunch, it's time we had ours. I'll follow in a minute."

The elf bowed only slightly, and left, falling in with Felassan a little bit down the road, leaving me alone with the Grand-Cleric.

"Mother Brandon, I have a question," I said, "Regarding faith."

"Such questions are why I am who I am," Brandon replied enthusiastically, "Speak, child, for I will reveal what wisdom is granted to me."

"You believe the Maker is on our side," I said, "Yet we were defeated at Lydes. Would the Maker allow us to be defeated completely?"

Brandon frowned, no doubt suspecting my doubts were eating at me. To be honest, it was simply a matter of curiosity to me. I didn't find God all that helpful on a battlefield to begin with, his agenda higher than the life of any one person or nation. But it was important to get the perspective of someone who was deeply involved with keeping the morale of my people up.

"I regret to say that, yes, the Maker would allow us to taste ultimate defeat," she intoned gravely, before picking up, "However, he would only do so if it served our cause in some greater fashion. For instance, were we to lose and become martyrs, perhaps it would ignite the hearts of our fellow Orlesians into seeing the truth of our cause, or the tyranny of our enemies."

I hummed my acceptance of the idea. The assassinations of so many prominent patriots and ordinary citizens who got in the way had been the source of much new support.

"There is no greater love than this," I quoted, "That one should lay down his life for his friends."

Brandon nodded, recognising wisdom when she heard it. Though I doubt she would have approved of its source in John 15, one of the few parts of the Bible I recall.

Further discussion was cut off by the thumping of multiple horses' hooves from the direction of the rolling, empty vinyards. Louise de Villars and her company of chevaliers were riding hard towards us. The enemy would be upon us soon.

Considering Tiberius' own words on the subject of supernatural aid, I looked up into the cloudy sky again. Sure enough, the eagles were still up there, watching over us.

"If you'll excuse me," I said, watching the birds, "I have a battle to win."

* * *

The delay in the royalists' arrival was to allow them to form up out of range of our cannon.

Within fifteen minutes of our cavalry returning, the fields at the horizon were filled with banners moving forward, heralding the arrival of the battalions holding them. On they came, step by step. Through my binoculars, I could see the whole mass of them.

Crossbowmen advanced in loose order in front, hugging cover. Duval's influence was fairly obvious there. The sword and pike troops followed in wide, close formations. The cavalry stayed back, as far back as they thought would provide safety from our weapons. They were dressed in tabards of various colours, but they all had white and green ribbons flying from the top of their banners, indicating their allegiance to Gaspard. McNulty's estimates weren't far off either. There had to be seventy thousand coming straight at us at least.

We were indeed outnumbered a little less than ten to one; seven thousand firelancers, three hundred mages, three hundred Grenadiers, three hundred Rangers, three hundred Lancers, one hundred and fifty chevaliers, and thirty five cannon. They were arranged in a semi-circle formation at the edge of the dense forest, bulging outwards, with the mages in the centre on the road nearest the enemy and the artillery at the forty-five degree points on either end of the curve. Our cavalry and the horses we had used to move everyone were to the rear, away from any possible fighting (to Blondie's chagrin).

Thankfully, our battle plan didn't require anything like even numbers. In fact, any more than what we had would have impeded us. The realisation that we had just the right amount to deal with what was being thrown at us

I put away my binoculars as soon as I was sure we could begin.

"Here we go," I said.

"May the Maker protect us," Velarana replied. I glanced to her, seeing Armen's disapproval expressed in the lack of smirk on his face. Barris closed his eyes and mumbled a prayer of his own, his gauntlet-shielded hands held together in front of his plate armour.

"Hopefully, we won't need protection," I said.

"The Libertarian and Aequitarian regiments stand ready, my lord," Velarana reported, ignoring the other two.

"Great," I said, "The enemy are in range. Inform the Tranquil they can start."

Velarana summoned a runner, and passed them the message. Of course, the runner was a mage too, and instead of mounting a horse, he zipped by in a flash of white and red robe, leaving behind a trail of ice on the ground. Seemed like a waste of magical energy to me.

"Shouldn't he be saving himself for the fight?" I asked, pointing after the man.

"He is not a powerful mage," Velarana replied evenly, "But he is very adept at the use of the Fade step." With a mental note that she was not one to waste human resources, contrary to my image of her, I shrugged and resumed my watch of the enemy.

They had not picked up the pace, but were moving towards us rather than forwards. I smirked. They had made a mistake there. It have been hard to hack through the woods to either side in order to surround us, but that was an infinitely more wise move than moving their troops closer together as they were. All except for the crossbowmen in front, they stayed nicely spread out. I immediately tagged them as being under Duval's personal command.

The cannons boomed almost as one, sending their shells forwards with a wave of acrid smoke. Seconds later, explosions burst among the close infantry battalions, tearing visibly blood holes in the royalist line. The Tranquil had followed their orders in their usual fashion, in this instance to fire at the best targets for maximum casualties. That meant ignoring the tangle of loose archers in front.

As expected, the royalists wavered for a moment. I took a breath, glad that we hadn't lost our reputation for sheer damned murder in the defeat at Lydes. I turned to Armen and gave him a slap on the shoulder, and we both started laughing, the tension that had built during the wait relieved somewhat.

"What are they doing?" Barris asked. I whipped around to watch again, and saw what he meant. I checked via my binoculars to be sure.

"They're narrowing," I said, "And not maintaining their formation."

The second volley of the cannons rang out, obscuring a good view of the advancing enemy for a moment. When the vapours cleared, I saw that we had killed even more than the first volley had, but it hadn't slowed the advance.

"They're moving swiftly, my lord," Velarana said, "More swiftly than anticipated."

"Not a problem," Armen said, "More meat for the firelances."

I grimaced. It was true, but not enough so to remove worry. I balanced my heavy firelance on my hip, checked the belt feed and cocked it. No need for delays there. The enemy was getting close enough to pick out individual soldiers.

Four more slaughtering volleys from the cannons, and the enemy crossbows were finally in range. And we were in range of them.

"Tranquil, one more barrage and then retreat to the rear," I said to Velarana, before activating my radio, "Soprano, McNulty, volley fire."

The affirmations came as Velarana's runner swept off in a flurry of snowflakes to deliver the orders. Our troops, previously well disguised in the foliage, revealed themselves. Seconds later, the crackles of musketry started at the edges of the line, sweeping like a Mexican wave and growing in volume as they approached us. The cannons added their wrath at the end, like a period at the end of a sentence.

There were a lot of bodies in the fields, but still, the enemy rolled forwards over their dead. I shook my head. Such feats of bravery are rare, but in this case, it was plain suicidal. Even without our last move yet unmade.

"They've got stones, I'll give them that," I said, "Are we ready?"

"Yes, my lord," Velarana said.

"Good," I said, "Barriers up."

"BARRIERS!" Armen roared.

The mages raised their staves, the whole middle of our line glowing a soft blue. There was a brief but overwhelming scent of ozone, displaced again seconds later by the nearest firelancers giving another crackling volley at a throng of royalist archers. Soon, the glow faded, leaving only a faint blue sheen on our magical troops and the Templars.

Of course, the effect shattered around me, glass-like remnants flying off back into the Fade. I was the only one unprotected, but with the green cloth covers over my desert camo, it wasn't like anyone could know. My confidence swelled in my chest.

Our artillery had moved off, and the firelancers did not lack for targets. With breathing space at last, the enemy began to fight back. Bolts hissed through the air around me, filling the space between the sounds of the volleys.

The high-pitched pinging of the impacts off of the magical barriers set my teeth on edge. I took a step to the side, half behind Armen. I got a snort and a small flash of lightning for my trouble. Not that either hurt me, and it certainly saved me from a pair of nasty looking bolts that came down where my feet had been seconds earlier.

The radio crackled, echoing the sound of gunfire. "We are taking casualties," McNulty said through the din, "Orders?"

He wasn't panicking, not yet, but even I could sense there was a danger to the situation. One I couldn't quite quantify yet. The air had gone heavy again.

I took out my binoculars and looked. Without the cannon to tear them to shreds, the swords and spears were advancing at a rapid pace. They were taking losses similar to what they had been when it was just explosive shots raining down on them, but they were spread out and intermittent. Without the shock of half their buddies all going at the same time, there was a new boldness to them. Worse, the crossbows behind the stone walls were giving them very effective covering fire.

Even at three shots a minute, we weren't killing them fast enough. My jaw clenched, I shoved my binoculars back into its place. We needed to make them doubt. And there was an obvious route towards doing that.

"Mages," I growled, "Come with me."

I stepped forward and broke into a ran straight up the road. Not bothering to check if the mages would actually follow me.

The reaction of the enemy told me enough. Lots of pointing and shouting by archers and sergeants, all trying to get a bead on me. Or more likely, those behind me. By the time I reached the oak tree and the burned carriage, there was a horizontal rain of wooden shafts with pointy metal heads. And a large battalion of infantry were rushing to meet us, just for kicks.

I dove to the ground, beside the pink bones of the dead fennecs, and set my firelance on its bipod. I set the sights on the men coming towards me.

They seemed to stop and scatter, and my brow inched upwards. Smart men. I adjusted my aim one last time to fire.

Armen beat me to it, skidding to a halt beside me and unleashing the granddaddy of the lightning bolt he had tickled me with minutes before. The thunderclap shook through to my very core, and the electricity struck the men. A number fell dead, puppets with their strings cut. The others began convulsing, struggling to maintain their faculties as death approached. I couldn't watch it.

I pulled the trigger and put them out of their misery, with a number of controlled bursts. The tracers tracked into each group, and the convulsions stopped. As did the feeling of disgust that had flooded my mouth.

"Armen, no damn lightning this time," I ordered. I got a grunt of acquiescence in return, followed by a burst of icicles.

The other mages were spreading out, doing much the same. Gouts of fire, flashes of lightning, localised blizzards, green rocks falling from nowhere. Where the enemy reached our positions, Templars in full plate armour stepped in front again, deflecting blows and striking down those fortunate... or unfortunate enough to have made it that far. It was chaos. Just as planned. Better, any semblance of organisation in the ranks of the enemy completely dissolved once Velarana and her knight-enchanters charged forwards, spirit blades waving and stabbing. The waves of arrows and bolts abruptly stopped, letting me stand up straight again.

It was pretty hard for me to find a decent target in that madness, but with more and more attention coming our way, I knew that was temporary. I decided to hang back by the oak tree while the others moved forwards, reloading and watching proceedings. I began the procedure from muscle memory; I had carried a heavy firelance into battle during my first stint with the army of my homeland, but at a relaxed pace. My view was increasingly obscured by smoke to either side, which concerned me a little more.

"Soprano, McNulty, report," I said via radio.

"Gaspard's really interested in the mages," Soprano replied, "It's like shooting nugs in a cage over here, the enemy is all moving close to get at you guys."

"Same thing over here," McNulty replied, "Almost feel sorry for the bastards."

"Don't," I replied.

"We're beginning to run low on ammunition," Soprano added, "We're going to need to break off soon."

"Copy," I said, "Shoot until each has three shots left... that should be enough to cover our retreat."

Soprano and McNulty said something beyond acknowledging my orders, but I didn't hear it clearly. The loud, unnatural rustling of branches above me garbled the voices. I glanced upwards, expecting to see the eagles screwing around.

Instead, I saw a half dozen clowns hanging by their legs or arms. Masked clowns with daggers.

"Oh shit!" I shouted, my voice higher pitched than I would like to admit.

Breathless, I completed the reload of my firelance, stepping back. I tried to get a bead on the killer clowns, feeling my heartbeat in my throat as I swung the barrel. They dropped from the tree with the grace and athleticism of acrobats, and rushed forwards. I tripped backwards over a rock and fell on my ass, an accident but one that saved me from taking two or three daggers to the face.

"FUCK YOU!" I yelled, and depressed the trigger.

The firelance spat hot brass at the fuckers in a stream, propped up on one of my boots. Spray and pray. At that range, a couple of paces at most, the effect should have been an end game. Except the enemy was entirely made up of gymnasts. I caught the two immediately in front of me, two men who wouldn't have looked out of place at an S&M party if the colour black had been banned. They got stitched across their chests, tumbling to the dirt bloodied up.

I turned my weapon's attentions to the rest. The other four pirouetted and tumbled aside like a circus performance, and produced more daggers. Three had went right, in the direction of the forest. At first I thought they were fleeing, but it was a feint. Flying daggers came out of the blue, one bouncing off my firelance, another off the top of my helmet. I sent bursts chasing after the throwers, with the desired effect.

Except that it had left me wide open for the last one.

A bladed _shoe_ of all things caught my peripheral vision, courtesy of the sparkling jewellery encrusting it, and I rolled over sharply. Painful, dirty, but absolutely necessary to survive. A second later, and I would have been the butt end of a bad 007 joke to any future Outlander.

I pulled my handcannon out, the firelance stuck underneath me, but it too was kicked aside. A dagger whirled in a hand, the killer clown putting on a show for herself. She was definitely female, which gave me the idea for what to do next.

I sprang at her, a feat of squat strength that would have made any drill sergeant happy. My body collided with her, and I tackled her to the ground. I just managed to grab her arm with my left hand as the dagger thrust came. It bit deep, but only between my collar bone and my shoulder. The combat haze fell over me, the pain of my wound not registering and the world narrowing to nothing but the death struggle.

I retaliated with a vicious punch to the head, which stunned her for half a moment. I tried to grab her arm again, but it came about, stabbing again in a motion that was blocked by the kevlar. I began to move my knees to pin her legs. Mistake. She moved inside my reach into a position that would have been positively intimate otherwise, wrapping her legs around my hips, our breath mixing, every inch of our torsos entwined. She had blue eyes under the mask.

It was not as pleasant as it sounds.

As I tried to pry her loose, pushing her face away from mine with both hands, I felt the dagger's point move downwards along my side and tuck itself just under my armour. She had me. Almost.

Shouts echoed from around us, I couldn't make out who, but I felt the dagger remove itself from where it had began to thrust. I wasn't sure if it had done any damage, but I felt an overwhelming fatigue. A strange one. I had been wounded before, a flesh wound on my left thigh, and it felt nothing like this. I began to lose consciousness, even as the hold on me eased off.

I fell forwards on top of the enemy, blacking out.

* * *

 _AUTHOR'S NOTE: It appears as if alerts for the site are currently down, as I'm getting none of them at present. I'm not exactly sure if everyone else is getting theirs, but no time to waste._

 _Also seems I lost about ten followers and a few favourites over the past few weeks, made up for by new ones but still noticed by me as I've investigated the above problem. Not sure why that is, whether some people don't like where I've taken the story or whether it's some sort of glitch. Either way, I'd appreciate a review explaining why._

 _The next chapter(s) is the last of this volume, after which Outlander will be going into hiatus until November 12th, to allow for completion of Battlefield 2183 (hopefully)._

 _ **Katkiller-V:** Needless to say, the adaptation cycle will go on from now on. Certain cats have left certain bags, and there are few more to escape._

 _ **Raw666:** The nobles lost quite a few, but not as much as the Free Army in the instance of Lydes. In this chapter at Vindargent however... well, you'll have to wait for the next chapter to find out, won't you?_

 _ **N Tucker:** Sam's radio communications are short range, a couple of miles or so. He has long range equipment too, but only one set. So, the cavalry scouts sent out in the morning went out, gathered rumours, saw Gaspard's cavalry, and came back. Add the interference of the enemy to them actually getting back, and all of that would take time without radio, leaving him vulnerable to exactly what happened. _


	36. Chapter 36: Appomattox

**Chapter Thirty-Six: Appomattox**

On Earth, many countries had revolutions, uprisings of the people to undo systems of government or economy that they felt were not in their favour. For the most part, they're viewed either with disdain or admiration, but everyone has a revolution or a set of revolutions they admire, even if they hate others.

The act of saying " _enough is enough_ " and throwing off the chains around you is considered to be a noble one, at least until the bloodshed starts and oftentimes afterwards too. On Thedas too, even before my arrival, tales of rebellions against oppression are the very basis for many societies. Andraste against Tevinter, Ferelden against Orlais, the Free Marches against the Qunari, there are no shortage of such stories here.

What most popular readings will not tell you is that most revolutions fail.

Some succeed in overthrowing their declared enemy, but go on to set up governments that are just as bad or worse. Others fail because of the intervention of foreign powers, looking out for their own interests. Still others fail because their leaders were incompetent or egotistical.

The great majority fail for a much more simple reason: the government they oppose has a stronger army. Sometimes, even the revolutionaries realise this, and decide that maybe rising up wasn't such a good idea.

Yet naked force is the great and final arbiter of all disputes, and if I might quote Heinlein, people who forget that fact pay with their lives and liberty. Today, every weapon of the Peacekeepers is inscribed with the words " _Ultima Ratio Populum_ ," from the Ancient Tevene meaning "the final argument of peoples".

What happened after the Battle of Vindargent is why our weapons bear that inscription.

* * *

My brain resumed regular service as if nothing had happened.

I awoke with a light shining in my face, rising from my back, fists swinging in a feeble attempt to catch the woman who had sent me out cold. Instead, I caught nothing but air. I was thrown off balance, to the extent that I had the wind knocked out of me, and I almost fell off the bed I had apparently been laying on.

My vision blurry, I settled down, blinking away the fugue. A dull pain complained from my shoulder, my wound not quite healed. It helped clear my sight, and I found myself in a familiar place.

I was inside the chantry on Hearth's central plaza, on the raised dais where the Grand-Cleric usually led the chant from. The smell of incense was the first clue. The clerics' chairs were notable in that they were missing. Bright, coloured sunlight poured in from the stained glass windows.

No wonder I had woken, I had just been dazzled. By contrast, the entire dais had been cut off from sight of both the roof and the rest of the chantry by what looked like grey woollen blankets, hanging from ropes slung to the walls. There was bustle from outside my enclosure echoing through the fabric, but I couldn't make out anything coherent. I was inside a disco tent, I thought, my head still not quite on straight.

What the hell I was doing there, I had no clue. Did everyone think I was dead? Was I lying in state before they burned my body? How long had I been out?

A sharp cough thundered from behind me. I jumped out of my skin, climbing off the bed.

Seated in a shaded corner was Markham, a book in one hand and a small wooden pipe in the other. What I had smelled wasn't just incense, but flavoured leaf smoke. He just staring at me over the top of gold rimmed glasses, puffing away. Grim as ever. That provoked the childish side of me a little, though probably as a defence mechanism against the possibility of the worst news.

"Smoking is bad for you, you know?" I joked half-heartedly, "You should quit."

Markham pulled the pipe out of his mouth and frowned. "You ought to quit waking up suddenly despite being heavily sedated."

"Why is that?" I asked.

The healer pointed at my lower body. In confusion, I looked down. I was entirely naked.

"Yeah, maybe we're both right," I conceded with a smile, finding fresh clothes folded at the end of the bed, "What happened to me?"

"If Armen Cartier is correct, you were attacked by the Harlequins," Markham said, "Orlesian special forces. One of them stuck you with this."

He lifted the dagger off a small table out of sight, and up in front of him.

"Coated with poison," the healer sighed, "Lucky for you, most of the poison ended up on the side of your jacket rather than in your blood."

"So I was never in danger?" I asked, dressing myself.

"I wouldn't say that," Markham replied, "Had I been able to use magic, you would have recovered in less than a day. As it stood, you could have died at any time. I put you to sleep to maximise the chances that you would recover and applied the antidote without magical aid."

I nodded. It made sense, but there was something that sent an arrow through my heart. Time. Fully dressed, in clean Earth fatigues no less, I rushed over to Markham and took him by the shoulder.

"How long have I been out?"

"Thirteen days," Markham said.

"Thirteen days?!" I repeated loudly, "Jesus Christ!"

I stood back again, running my hand through my hair. Which badly needed a cut. A quick check of my chin confirmed I needed a shave too. Strange what you distract yourself with at times like these.

"Are we still in this war?" I asked, "Or are we just hanging on?"

The booming of cannon in the distance ran through the Chantry, a drumbeat of deep sonic movements, muffled but clearly recognisable.

"We fight still," Markham said as he stood up, "But we are surrounded."

"What about everyone else?" I continued, "Are Julie and Tam safe?"

The healer scoffed, as he bent down by the bed.

"The High-Chancellor and her mistress are both in perfect health, physically," he said, as he rummaged, "But I had to order them from this chamber, for their own soundness of mind."

I can only imagine what my lovers had gone through. They had responsibilities that they couldn't ignore, but aside from that, Markham had undoubtedly done the right thing for them personally too. Julie's method of grieving was something I had already seen. She got sad, until she figured out how to get even. Tam on the other hand was a mystery in that regard, but I can't see how her hanging around my sleeping self would have been helpful.

"Good," I said, "You did them a favour there."

Markham pulled the metal box from under the bed, and flipped the lid. It was my equipment.

"I know," he said, "Your weapons and armour. I suggest you get moving."

I recoiled a little in surprise. "Shouldn't I take it easy?"

"I see you're a master of alchemy now, adding to your repertoire as one of war," Markham said, all sarcasm, "If you're awake and walking around, you're fine. We could spend time talking about the exact reasons why you are, but I doubt the High-Chancellor would forgive me for holding you. Just drink plenty of water."

Satisfied with his speech, he held out my blue beret. "They're at the south gate," he added, finally.

Trusting the healer's expertise, I took the beret and donned it. After putting on the Kevlar and weapons, I tucked my helmet under my arm and exited the 'tent' into the rest of the Chantry proper. Markham followed.

The space had been converted for use as an aid station. Markham's juniors were going about, seeing to the wounded as they lay in rows of wood-and-cloth cots. More woollen blankets acted as dividers in some places, but for the most part it was open as usual. There didn't seem to be blood on the floor, but it was in the air. I stopped dead. These were my men and women.

Eyes turned to me, and the bustle of the huge cathedral began to pause, spreading out from where I was standing. Sisters acting as nurses stopped dead, mages stood up from their patients, patients craned their necks to see what was going on.

"He's alive," a man said loudly, spreading the effect to the entire room.

I was struck dumb. This wasn't the kind of attention I wanted at that moment. I just wanted to see Tam and Julie. Everything else could happen afterwards. Lacking the ability to teleport however, I held my head high and walked out. A quick tip for all would-be officers out there reading this; when in doubt, lead by example. I took a gulp of air, and acted.

I walked out through the stares, the bows and the kneeling supplicants with as much assurance as I could muster, firelance propped up on my hip. Exuding confidence is a good way to inspire it in others. The stares quickly turned to chatter; excited chatter. The doors of the Chantry opened, and I quietly released the breath I was holding.

Despair, it seemed, could be fought off.

* * *

The streets were full of people, moving about to complete tasks with buckets or carts. I had never seen Hearth so full, but I put it down to the fact that the army and all those who lived outside the walls were now within them. The town was entirely capable of supporting them of course.

Our war had been unusual in that the great majority of our action wasn't siege work, but every town was designed to hold far more than its usual population as well as to provide food and water for the same. And Gaspard didn't have cannon.

Bellona seemed very pleased to see me, neighing once loudly as I approached, moving to rub her neck against me. Being cooped up wasn't her idea of fun either. I felt buoyed, light enough to face what was to come.

I rode out of the central square, which had become a giant stable and smelled like one. No one took notice of me until I was on the main road south, at which point came a startling reaction. Cheers followed me as Bellona trotted along, those on the way parting to let me pass.

Soldiers saluted, citizens bowed or ran their hands along the side of my horse, children squealed. Hope flared in their eyes, regardless of their station, which in turn stoked my own. Carried by that feeling, I reached the South Gate with a throng of followers. Straight into a gathering of the Peacekeepers. Parade ranks broke immediately, joining the celebration, chanting my name from the street and from the wall.

" _Hunt, Hunt, Hunt, Hunt!_ "

A spontaneous, riotous celebration that I was alive.

A lump in my throat grew, and I had to try very hard to keep down actual tears of joy. I was overwhelmed with feeling. Very unmanly. Yet it happened. I had done many things, but I did not and do not believe I deserved such a reception. Yet it happened.

I dismounted, but the crowds picked me up and placed me on the shoulders of the largest men, whom I recognised as four of McNulty's guys. They bore me forwards into the shade of the walls, and towards a set of tents that had been put up to house the army on the peripheral road. Towards one tent in particular, bearing silver hallas on its four supports and the Stars and Stripes on its sides.

As I was put back on my feet again, the crowd cleared, creating a space.

Everyone went quiet, their eyes turning to the small group in front of me.

Armen, Ciara, Leha, my officers, even Tiberius... they all looked like they were seeing a ghost. Admittedly, the magister looked a whole lot more damned relieved than shocked, but the rest simply stared like they couldn't believe it. Considering I was in rude health all of a sudden, I found it difficult to fault them.

Julie and Tam, both dressed for battle, stopped dead. The crowd went dead quiet. They had expectations. Which put pressure on my shoulders. I had to say … something.

"So..." I began, looking around, "What did I miss?"

A splutter of amusement erupted from Julie, before she started rapidly blinking tears. She wiped them away with the back of her wrist. My gut wrenching with guilt, I took a step forward, moving to embrace her.

I was intercepted by Tam.

A forceful slap lashed against my cheek, making my eyes water for a different reason entirely to joy or sorrow. Even my jaw buzzed with agony for a moment. Worse, I found Tam staring down at me, not with anger but with disappointment. A truly terrifying sight for anyone, something that Tam had been trained to do... perhaps even bred to do; to admonish those who had failed.

The crowd murmured a general exclamation of sympathy. That definitely hurt, they were thinking. They were right.

"That was for leaving us," Tam declared, loudly enough so that the entire congregation could hear.

I nodded. The slap was something I did in fact deserve.

"You could have died," she continued, "And you would have been safe if I had been there." Very true. We had a plan for attempted assassinations, as Tallis had found out. I gulped down a response. There was nothing to say.

Julie came by and lay her hand on Tam's arm, looking up with big, green, tear-filled eyes. It was enough, being the message.

Tam looked back for a moment, and sighed. "This is for coming back to us." She drew me gently towards her, and kissed me softly on the lips, lingering a while. When she withdrew, she was smiling again, the warm kind she reserved for her lovers and her pupils alone. And I felt better again.

Julie ran over and hugged me tight, planting smaller kisses all over my face, before squeezing me as tight as she could. Which knocked the wind out of me, because she had no shortage of strength. I rubbed her head and squeezed back, as she sobbed into my shoulder. After all she had lost, it was a huge deal for someone important to her to step _out_ of their grave rather than into one.

The sight of all this had the crowd cheering again, which got Julie laughing and waving to the mobs through her tears. The cheering grew louder, and was joined with clapping.

My officers waded in to try and restore some semblance of order; the town was under siege after all. The crowd began to disperse, the civilians back further into town, the troops back into parade formation. Tiberius disappeared, for reasons I can guess now but had no idea about then. Armen, Ciara and Leha joined us, greeting me with incredulous smiles. The whole event was curious to me, so I had to ask.

"Why is everyone _else_ so happy to see me?" I asked, tilting my head at the crowds.

Leha barked a laugh. "So, the healer didn't tell you," she said, as if she expected nothing less, "You're the god of war now."

"What?" I said.

"While you were busy getting stabbed," Armen added, "We were busy running off the chevaliers."

"You won," Ciara said, "Won big."

I glanced around the group, like they had suddenly sprung two heads a piece.

Vindargent had been nothing less than a complete victory for us. I only learned the exact details later, but we had caused more than fifteen thousand casualties to Gaspard's army, and chased it off the field. Soprano had taken command after word had come that I had been wounded, and the troops' blood was up. A final charge utterly routed the enemy.

"If that's true, why are we here?" I asked.

"Duval," Tam growled. That in itself said much, but not enough.

"What has he done?" I asked.

"Refused to stand and fight," Julie replied, "When we blocked his way, he sent half his army around ours. When we chased him, he ran away and found alternative routes."

"We sent out everything we had to try and stop that, but he kept getting reinforcements, so we couldn't stop him," Leha said, "But he hasn't been able to breach our defences. We destroyed his siege equipment with our cannon as soon as they put them up. All the poor bastards have left are ladders." Which would have been a death sentence to everyone trying to use them.

My mind raced. Were we winning or were we losing? It seemed impossible to tell. Hearth stood, and didn't look like it would fall. Henri Clouet, whom I had sent to gather troops from the south, was probably safe too. Halamshiral could withstand Celene's siege for years, if need-be, I thought. We might have failed to tip the domino of Lydes, but there was no reason to believe we couldn't topple the enemies before us. Yet there was no reason to believe it was a certainty, or that it would happen soon either.

These uncertainties troubled me for a moment, before my quiet thinking was interrupted.

"Gaspard wants to talk," Julie said, "To negotiate terms."

Which explained why all the Peacekeepers were by the south gate. My eyes widened.

"Really?" I asked, "Why?"

"Celene is nearing Halamshiral," Armen said, "Perhaps he wishes to ally with us. He hasn't mistreated anyone that we know of, perhaps this was his plan all along?"

"Back us into a corner then offer us a hand?" I thought aloud, "Sounds like Duval."

"Gaspard relies on him," Julie said, "It was Duval who delivered the offer of negotiation. Ciara and I are going out in an hour." She laid her head against me again.

Alone? That sounded like the worst sort of trap to me. Irrationally so, of course. Gaspard wasn't likely to try anything under the gaze of our cannon. Didn't change a thing. Not to mention that the idea

"I'm coming," I said firmly.

Julie smirked, and released me from her embrace at last.

"Of course you are," she said, with mock weariness.

How confident we were...

* * *

Julie's family home, or the courtyard to be exact, was to be the site of the parley. Now empty of Markham's patients much like the rest of the Smith quarter was empty of people. We went out of the gates a good bit earlier than we needed to, to scope the place out. Now that I was aware of the Harlequins' existence, I had little appetite for taking chances.

And a huge appetite in the real sense of the word. When Julie, Ciara and I departed, I brought a large cut of pork, some bread, and the cooking utensils. I don't know what the hell they had been feeding me via the tube they had to stick down my throat daily while I was unconscious, something I had to see done to others a few times over the years, but I was very hungry. Ravenous.

So the unusual scene of me cooking bacon in a pan in the courtyard came to be. I whistled, moving the meat about in the pan as it heated above an open fire, not a care in the world. My companions were not so calm.

Julie paced around the cobblestones. Ciara fidgeted beside me, at least until I gave her a bacon sandwich. That settled matters for a bit. But not long. By the time I had another sub ready, the pacing and fidgeting had resumed.

"They're late," Julie said, "They're the ones who called this. I am tempted to go back inside."

"We're the ones under siege," I said, beginning to eat myself. My mouth watered with each bite. It was absolutely delicious. A first meal after waking up from almost dying is always utterly divine. Plus bacon makes everything better, including my growing trepidation over what Gaspard wanted. That's what none of us dared voice an opinion about.

And that's how it went, each of us distracting ourselves in our own way, a feeling of fate on our shoulders. Problem was that our mutual methods cancelled each other out, and we ended up distracting each other instead. Exasperated, I decided the silence wasn't going to work.

"What happened to the assassin?" I asked, "The one who almost got me."

Julie and Ciara immediately stopped their .. activities and turned to me.

"Why do you care?" Julie said, a little too quickly. I paused lifting the next bite of my sandwich to my face, realising I had just struck a nerve. Somehow.

"I didn't get the chance to stop her," I replied, "I was just wondering... why are you upset?"

Julie turned away and crossed her arms, her eyes closed and her head hung slightly. Was it embarrassment or anger? I couldn't figure out which, exactly.

Our other companion cleared her throat. "She wanted to execute the assassin for attempted murder," Ciara said, "She was... angry."

"The bitch tried to stab him, and almost succeeded in poisoning him!" Julie snapped, "And when we got a hold of her, she was smiling like a cat! I should have shot her myself!"

Now that she had gotten sadness out of the way, fury was what was left. Another crime for Julie to avenge, on top of all the other crimes that the royalists had gotten away with. Her father had been taken by war before I had ever arrived. Her sister had been taken by other assassins' blades. Her other sister, her niece and her nephew had been taken from her by the fear of the same blades. By all rights, everything I knew about my lover said that the blue-eyed killer clown ought to be very dead.

"Why didn't you?" I asked, "Seems like an open and shut case... we have killed for far less." And for far more.

"She's a cousin of Louise de Villars," Julie replied venomously, "A _dear_ cousin."

"Which is why she's locked up with Tallis in the keep," Ciara added, "Instead of splattered against a wall somewhere."

"Not in the dungeon," Julie said with a sharp wave of the hand, "In the guest quarters."

My eyebrow cocked upwards at that. The thought of my would-be end walking around more or less in comfort and safety, possibly freely enough to give killing me another shot, that was not comforting. The beard I had grown while I slept itched, and I rubbed it as I thought the problem over.

"Perhaps I should do something about that," I said.

"Colonel de Villars has assured us that the assassin has cooperated," said Julie, sitting down beside us, "The only reason we got everything out of our home in time was because of information the woman gave up. Or so de Villars said."

"Leave it be," Ciara soothed, "This war might be over soon."

That was a little too fatalistic for me. "What makes you say that?" I asked.

"They're coming," Ciara said, ignoring the question.

Both Julie and I fell silent, moving our heads to listen. The sound of boots with spurs on stone began ringing out, louder and louder. Reminded me of old Westerns. I sighed, stuffed the last of my bacon sandwich in my mouth, and signalled to the troops on the walls some hundred yards behind us to hold their fire. Probably wise, they had already been lining up the shots.

A swig of water later, and the two expected figures showed up with a third uninvited guest.

Gaspard de Chalons appeared to me to be a truly formidable character. He was as tall as I was, broad shouldered, and he walked with ease of certainty in his superiority, his head held high. His dull green half-mask was shaped like a helmet, with wings of a bird of prey stretching down its sides like cheek-guards, the head of the bird plated with gold on his forehead, flanked with diamonds. The hints of a large moustache poked out from underneath the mask. He had a small neck ruffle, but aside from these things, there wasn't much ornamental about him. He was dressed in well made but plain clothing, over which he had excellently designed but plain plates of armour. To protect him from the fall chill, he had an animal skin cloak. He was unarmed.

The man who would be Emperor indeed.

Duval was dressed essentially the same way he had been when we had first met; blue mask, chainmail with his family crest emblazoned over it on a tabard, the Lion of Chalons on his upper right arm. Contrary to his liege-lord, he was armed to the teeth. Two swords, one sabre and one longsword, the traditional armament of a chevalier. In addition, two daggers, one on his hip, another by his boot. Lastly, a small round shield, held in his left hand. A man ready for a betrayal, but not the person Gaspard would have relied upon if we had decided to play the assassination game ourselves.

Her outline frayed in my sight, but very clearly visible, Lienne de Montsimmard hovered behind the two men, glowing staff held across her red dress in both hands. Her mask was gone, revealing dark hair and the well-kept features of a noble's daughter, but killing intent poured off of her eyes like flames. I knew from Julie's complete lack of reaction that there was no way anyone else could see the sorceress. In fact, if my lover could have seen the hovering mage, she probably would have opened fire with the short firelance slung over her shoulder.

Wishing to keep the peace of the truce intact, I said nothing.

Julie stepped forward to greet the two people she could see, slipping on the metaphorical mask of a politician with complete ease. The mask she often hid behind in public. It was time for the two leaders, the two real leaders, to speak.

"Welcome to Hearth," she said graciously, "I am Julie Hunt, Marquise de la Fayette, High-Chancellor of Free Orlais." She curtsied, which in an Earth uniform looked a bit funny, but the other side seemed to accept it.

"Gaspard de Chalons, rightful Emperor of Orlais," replied the Grand-Duke, "All of it." He bowed low from the waist, right foot forward, arm extended.

Julie could not help but smile at that, like the notion amused her. Gaspard returned it, no doubt thinking the same. I rolled my eyes. The Game, what a load of bullshit.

The 'Emperor' looked around the courtyard, at the buildings and the space in general. He grimaced, like he had seen something he had been expecting.

"It is my understanding that you lived here," he said, "Before you rose to your current station."

"I was born here," Julie corrected, "I am living proof that any Orlesian can rise to the very highest position, through their own genius."

"If only that were true," Gaspard mused, "Without your husband, you would have remained a blacksmith... or perhaps would have ended up executed as a traitor."

Or imprisoned as a tax dodger, for that matter... but she was quick on the draw to respond.

"Without your father, you would have been born a commoner," Julie replied dryly, "Or perhaps, you would have been born a girl."

Gaspard erupted with laughter, hands on his hips. He had tested Julie, seeing how sensitive she was on the subject of her origins and her luck. She had passed. "I knew I would like you," he said. His green mask swivelled in my direction.

"What about you?" he asked me, "It is said you are not of this world, Peacekeeper. How do you find life here?"

"I would appreciate it a whole lot more if I didn't have to kill to stay alive in it," I replied flatly, "But the people I have met have made every moment worth it."

Gaspard inclined his head. Perhaps he had expected a more interesting response. After all, I was an alien being where Thedas was concerned.

"And you?" Gaspard asked Ciara, "You fight for the rebellion to free your people, do you not?"

"I am Dalish," Ciara replied, "My people are free already. I fight for everyone else's freedom." Gaspard hummed his approval of that.

"Sire, perhaps we should address the matter at hand," Duval said, with appropriate deference.

"Time is not completely of the essence," Gaspard conceded, "But very well."

Julie nodded, and indicated for the 'Emperor' to sit opposite her. The two seated themselves in the thin kitchen chairs, the only ones available and ones thoroughly too cheap for the occasion. The wood creaked, and we all crowded to either side of our own leaders.

I looked directly at Lienne de Montsimmard in the process. The invisible witch beamed a wicked smile back at me. She knew I could see her. It stuck me that she probably couldn't maintain the spell indefinitely, hence Duval's haste.

Julie began, in the way taught to her by Grand-Cleric Brandon.

"Under the eyes of the Maker, you are the initiating party," she said, hand extended, "Would you like to begin?"

"Certainly," Gaspard replied, "Despite your great valour and skill in battle, as well as the losses you have inflicted upon my armies, we sit here beneath the walls of your true capital. You have lost. I am obligated by the chevalier code to offer you the chance to capitulate or to transfer the burden of continuing this conflict from my shoulders onto yours."

"We offer terms to preserve the lives of your soldiers and your followers," Duval said.

Julie gave me a warning glance. Something was wrong. I felt it too. They were far too confident. They were speaking as if the fight was over already. It wasn't, not by a long shot. Gaspard could throw his whole force at our walls, and we could beat them back with ease. Halamshiral wasn't going to fall to Celene any time soon either, we had seen to that.

"I'm sorry, you seem to be under the impression that you're winning," Julie replied, "You might have driven us back, but we've also bled you dry."

"Celene may take the entire north while you sit here through the winter," I added, "There is still time for us to come to some arrangement." Not that we'd actually accept an arrangement, we just needed to know what Gaspard's real aims were. Even an agreement he intended to break later would have provided insight.

Gaspard de Chalons was a ruthless son of a bitch, however.

"Marshal Duval," he said, not taking his eyes off of us, "Explain the realities to these rebels."

Duval bowed slightly. "Certainly, sire," he said, before looking directly at me, "Marquis, we have ten thousand prisoners from Lydes. If you refuse to hear our terms, they will be executed."

"Execute them, and we'll never come to terms," I snarled, "And I'll come hunting for you personally."

Duval ignored my anger. "We have no intention of assaulting your walls," he continued, "But I must ask, are the rest of your followers so well protected? Many hide in Halamshiral, it is true, but most do not have the luxury of stone and fire to shield them from our wrath."

I opened my mouth to speak. Nothing came out. I was struck dumb by my anger and fear. The implication had not even been put on the table, yet I knew exactly what he was threatening.

"We will bottle your forces up here, where they cannot interfere," Duval stated, void of emotion, "Our armies will sweep across the land. Any person they encounter shall be treated as a traitor, to suffer summary justice at the hands of our soldiers. The Crown's protections against pillage, rapine, arson, and murder will be lifted."

They would kill the men and boys, rape the women and girls, burn every village in every area that had pledged itself to our cause. All to assure our defeat. It was a brutal plan, but it would have been extremely effective in destroying our ability to wage war. Everything we built would go down in an orgy of violence. My teeth chattered with impotent rage. I would not let it happen.

I couldn't help myself. My hand jerked to my firelance, swinging it off my shoulder and into my grasp.

Duval drew his longsword and stepped in front of his lord. Lienne materialised, landing beside him, staff at the ready. I levelled my weapon at the mage, the largest threat. The sound of doors slamming open against the walls of the former smithy behind me surprised me, but when Tam, Leha and Armen drew up alongside me seconds later, I regained my focus.

Only Julie and Gaspard seemed to be still.

"Drop the staff, mage," I growled. Duval wasn't even a real threat.

"I don't need it to kill your whores," Lienne growled back, "Or your chained dog."

Armen's staff sparked brightly. He was no one's chained dog, and I was glad he expressed himself on that in the most menacing manner possible. We were at an impasse. I was seconds from pulling the trigger regardless. The more I thought about chevaliers going village to village, house to house, the less in control I was.

"Thought you might need help," he said under his breath to me, "Tam had us sneak out."

I nodded, not looking at him.

"Enough," Gaspard said, "What the Marshal describes is not what will happen."

"You seem very confident I will accept your terms," Julie replied.

"It is not your decision to make, High-Chancellor," Gaspard replied, "By your own laws, you must refer my terms to your assembly. If you are not _exactly_ the sort of tyrant which you claim _I_ am."

My heart began to beat like a drum, slowly but loudly. I saw the Grand-Duke's game at last. He was going to use the threat he had just made to force us to surrender on his terms. There was no way they'd vote to see their homes and families put to the torch and sword. I gripped my firelance tight, helpless. If I killed them now, the absent Remache would order the scourging of the Hearthlands himself.

"Our assembly won't look kindly upon threats," Julie lied smoothly, "But you are right, it is my duty to bring your terms to them. State your intent."

Gaspard turned his head to Duval and tilted it towards us. The marshal hesitated, looking between us and his lord, but gave in. He sheathed his sword, and produced a large piece of paper, the Chalons seal at the top of it.

Duval began to speak. Each sentence, a blow.

" _In return for their lives and liberty, all rebels active in the regions of the Hearthlands, the Emprise du Lion, and the Emerald Graves shall cease hostilities."_

" _The political entities known as Free Orlais and the Viceroyalty of the Dales shall be dissolved."_

" _All sigils, banners, and ceremonial flagheads not belonging to the 'Free Army' shall be surrendered."_

" _All 'National Guard' militia are to surrender their arms and return to their homes."_

" _The formula for explosive black powder will be written down and presented to the Royal Army."_

" _The Circle of Magi at Hearth shall be formally dissolved."_

" _All nobles pledging themselves to Free Orlais shall be stripped of their titles."_

" _All means of printing shall be presented to the Royal Army and destroyed."_

" _All copies of Le Sens Commun and other similar documents shall be burned."_

Although my feet remained rooted to the ground and I was upright, I felt like I was falling. I couldn't understand how it was possible that we in such a position. How I had been so blind.

"You can't be serious!" I blurted out, "How could we possibly live under such conditions? Even if you abided by them, what's to stop Celene from coming down here and hanging us all as traitors?"

Duval looked at me over the parchment with eyes of pity, but didn't reply. I felt anger bubble up inside me again. I didn't want his pity.

"I have to agree," Julie said warily, "I for one have no intention of living under you or Celene's direct rule ever again." If anything, she would have accepted autonomy for the Dales. If only to build our forces even more strongly to try again.

"Undoubtedly, but you cannot speak for all," Gaspard agreed, "And Marshal Duval has not stated the most important part of our terms yet, the one essential to keep your lives and liberty in your own hands."

A wave of the hand indicated to Duval that he was to continue, but the man stared at his liege-lord for a more solid confirmation.

"Get on with it," Gaspard sighed.

"As you will, sire," Duval said, before clearing his throat. He was stalling.

" _The soldiers of the Free Army including that part called the Peacekeepers, their families, and all residents of the town of Hearth are hereby exiled from the Empire of Orlais in perpetuity._

 _They shall gather their arms, equipment, victuals and banners, and proceed to Ferelden by the fastest method possible. Should they be found remaining on Orlesian soil after First Day of 9:40, all terms regarding the lives and liberty of rebels and their families in the Dales shall be rescinded."_

Duval folded the paper carefully, too carefully, and handed it to Julie.

Feeling like I had been struck by lightning, I lowered my weapon in shock. Everyone else did too, Tam and the others in shock, Lienne in response to us. Julie stood up, on shaky legs.

After having lost my home and having won Hearth, I was to lose that too. I had lost Hearth for those who had been born there and those who had come seeking a better life for themselves. Yet I was powerless to resist.

The Army might back me, maybe, but there was no way that the Assembly would vote against such a deal. They were commoners with no castles to run and hide in, their families exposed to attack. Those in the western towns and villages had already moved east, but they could not outrun armies, especially not without warning.

"This shem is insane," Ciara said, incredulous, "Or am I in a nightmare?"

"It seemed real to me," Tam replied weakly.

"I assure you, I am in deadly earnest," Gaspard stated sternly, "You are no longer welcome here. You declared war on your own realm. You are traitors. And I will not have traitors live in Orlais. Leave or perish."

"You are exiling us to Ferelden?" Julie said, "You _know_ that we will be attacked if we are forced there. They hate Orlesians."

"You are no longer Orlesian, and this is the most generous offer I could possibly make," Gaspard said, "Leave and fight for your lives elsewhere, or stay and watch me burn everything you love to ashes."

"What about Halamshiral?" I asked, "Does your deal extend to the people living there?"

"No, it does not," Gaspard said, "Halamshiral was a pot ready to boil over long before Madame Marteau started writing seditious pamphlets. It must be brought under control, once and for all."

"Except you won't be the one doing the controlling, making you look just weak enough to dismiss," Leha said, shaking her head, "You want to use Halamshiral to distract Celene so you can ambush her, and you want to use us to weaken Ferelden so you can march in to restore order."

"It appears there is no end to your ambition," Armen added, "Emperor."

"That is not your concern," Gaspard said, a picture of calm, "You will take the terms to your assembly. I expect an answer at sunset."

"That's not nearly enough time!" I shouted. He was trying to get us to rush the decision, hoping that would increase the tension of his threat.

"The choice is obvious," Gaspard replied, "No great amount of time is required to choose the obvious path." The patronising tone said all about whether or not we could get more time to discuss the terms, or if we could negotiate on them.

The Grand-Duke rose from his seat, and bowed once more in the same way he had when he had introduced himself. He walked back out into the street, Duval following close and Lienne lingering a moment to rub it in. The trio turned the corner and disappeared.

All of us fell to our asses, either into chairs or onto the ground. We were within sight of our soldiers on the walls, I remember thinking, they must think we are under some sort of spell. I put my hands over my face, and contained myself. The toxic mixture of fear and hate was making me dizzy. I hadn't ever hated someone as much as I had hated Gaspard de Chalons in that moment, nor feared anything as much as having the souls of every person who believed in the ideals from my world on my conscience.

"By the Stone, what do we do now?" Leha asked.

"There isn't anything we can do," Tam said.

"We have to take it to the Assembly," Julie confirmed, "The son of a bitch was right about that."

"They'll take the deal," I said, "You know that, right?"

"I'm not even sure I could turn it down myself," Julie said, rubbing her eyes with a thumb and forefinger, "If the decision was mine alone."

"How did we not see this coming?" Armen asked. It was a good question, and the answer to me had a clarity to it that eluded me previously.

"We thought Gaspard would play by our rules," I replied, "And for a while, he did." To be more accurate, I thought he would play by my rules. Civilised, Earthling rules. Because he wasn't a religious fanatic in a balaclava, waving black flags and burning people, I had assumed him to be a civilised person. I was wrong. He was a savage primitive, just like the rest of the rulers of Thedas' realms. Albeit one with more style and honour than some others.

"If we had won at Lydes..." Julie began.

"Don't," Tam interrupted, "We cannot change the past. Do not ask what if." She wouldn't watch us torture ourselves, particularly when we had a duty to perform. One of the many reasons why I loved her.

Julie raised herself off the chair, and stared at the main house. Her house. Where she had been born, where she had been raised, where she had first learn to swing a hammer, where she had learned to read and write.

"I can't believe we lost," she whispered.

A cold wind sliced through the courtyard, sending shivers down my spine. It was as good a signal as any to get the hell back inside the walls.

"Come," I said to the group, "Let's get it over with."

* * *

Whether or not we truly lost, in light of events both in Orlais and elsewhere in the years following, is a matter for debate. Both Julie and Tam both believe with the totality of their hearts that it was fate, rather than punishment for any hubris on our part. But it certainly felt like a comprehensive, total defeat as we lived through it.

Needless to say, the inevitable happened.

The National Assembly voted strongly to accept the offered terms of surrender. The peasants and merchants of the Libertarian and Aequitarian factions voted almost to a man in favour. They were all willing to risk Gaspard going back on his word rather than face the certainty of a campaign of destruction against their homes and families.

The nobles, or what was left of them after the Day of the Long Knives, split down the middle. Some vowed to join up with Henri Clouet in the south and fight for their titles and rights. Others decided they would join the Free Army in exile, Louise de Villars leading that party. My other officers were much more adamant to fight on, but once the decision had been made, they accepted it, as their oaths bound them to.

Gaspard had been right. It didn't take long to choose the obvious path.

By sunset, we had began preparations to leave. As promised the Grand-Duke, Duval, Remache and a brace of other high nobles were waiting just outside of our firelances' range on horseback.

The whole forest was lit up a bright red, the cloud cover having cleared in the intervening hours. It was ominous as hell a sight. The gates of Hearth swung open and I rode out alone, bags slung across the saddle. Unarmed, without armour, wearing nothing but my uniform and my beret, my gut and chest screaming with unease.

Suppressing nausea, I came before Gaspard and stopped. He was smiling to himself. He knew already.

"On behalf of Free Orlais, I, Samuel Hunt, Viceroy of the Dales..." I began, before my throat closed with the shame. I forced a hard gulp of air down to clear my airways. I couldn't say it yet.

I grabbed the bags hanging off my saddle, and one by one, dumped their contents on the ground below Gaspard. Silver halla by the dozen fell, as did banners with the same, and the keys to the city gates and the keep. When the bags were empty, I tossed them aside. Somehow, I felt better having done that.

"I, Samuel Hunt, Viceroy of the Dales," I completed, "Accept your terms for our surrender."

* * *

 _AUTHOR'S NOTE: So, the long foreshadowed defeat finally comes. I wanted to catch the characters out completely, I think I achieved that with aplomb. Victimised by their own success and limitations. I don't think the revolution, or at least this part of the revolution, could have ended any other way._

 _The next volume will be written after November 12th, and will be entitled 'Ferelden' as previously stated. There'll be a general edit of this volume too, for errors and to improve writing._

 _It seems alerts are still down, across the site, with many many others affected by this, so I'll plead with you here to check my page regularly for updates!_

 _I'd also like to recommend the Mass Effect story 'First Contacts' by Imperator Rex here, as it's a great little piece so far. Also helps that Imperator Rex is a fan of this._

 _ **Katkiller-V:** How's this for a rude cliffhanger? _

_**Racdragon339:** Twists and turns are the point of stories, lad! I very much enjoy crafting them and hearing back about it._

 _ **ThelonewolfNT:** Assuming your comment was in response to my wondering why people are de-following and de-favouriting the story, you may be right but it's still troubling to see. If people don't like the direction I'm going in, I'd much prefer to hear why they've stopped reading. Instead, they go quietly into the night, which is very annoying. Can't complain too much, I've gained more than twice as many as I've lost since then._

 _ **OBSERVER01:** Cheers mate._

 _ **5 Coloured Walker:** Welcome back to the party, you're just in time for a wham episode._


	37. Chapter 37: The Aeneid

**Chapter Thirty-Seven: The Aeneid**

Ferelden.

The most progressive kingdom on Thedas before my arrival by some considerable degree. A land where people value freedom as highly as they did in my own homeland, with all the implications and pride that brings.

A land that was unique among the major kingdoms in that its king or queen is chosen by its nobles, where the ruler is subject to law not above it and can be removed at any time. A land owned not by noble planters, but freehold farmers and urban workers, toiling away for their own benefit for the most part, paying dues to their liege-lords but not made slaves. This is how Ferelden had been for centuries.

The Fifth Blight seemed to change things for the better still further.

Under the enlightened rule of King Alistair and Queen Anora, themselves an aberration among monarchs for being a legitimised-bastard and common-born respectively, Ferelden gathered much strength. Yet the person most responsible for this was neither king nor queen, but Daylen Amell, the Warden Hero of Ferelden, the only man ever to slay an archdemon and live to tell of it.

Amell had been a Circle mage prior to his induction into the Wardens, and this made him rather dismissive of any authority other than his own. It is also probably the source of his ruthlessness in the face of opposition, of the sort a Templar would undoubtedly find familiar.

Wherever he walked, he changed things, tore down the old order and built up a new one that was more to his liking. We have that in common, I suppose. His changes have proven remarkably resilient, the credit for which has to go to Alistair and Anora, though some of them only survive today due to our own interventions in his country.

Armen was fond of speaking of Ferelden and its achievements, and what I knew of the place before arriving there came from him.

The most divergent difference between the land of the doglords and all other Southern realms is the legal status of mages. Amell, being a mage himself and taking a mage for his lover, naturally demanded the independence of the Circle of Magi in the country.

This was granted. The Chantry naturally resisted, which meant that the Fereldan Circle never saw the same freedoms as we established in Hearth. Alistair pressed as hard as he could regardless, and saw great success. Through his contacts in the Circle, abusive and zealous Templars were identified and expelled from the kingdom, which in turn allowed for improved conditions.

The Circle was turned from a closed prison into an open one, and continual pressure may have borne more fruit, if it wasn't for the events in Kirkwall.

Amell was no less important when it came to changes for the elves. No one particularly knows why he championed their causes, but I suspect he felt a need to punish those who trod on others by raising up those getting trod on in the first place. Like I said, we had quite a bit in common.

Under their new keeper, Lanaya, the Dalish of Ferelden were granted the lands on the edge of the Korcari Wilds, centred around the ruins of Ostagar. This sort of grant was not unusual in history, but it was unique in Ferelden history. Similarly, the city elves of Denerim were granted political autonomy under a bann of their own, Soris. The alienage was rebuilt at royal expense.

The arrangement with the Dalish lasted, Lanaya being able to smooth over conflicts with the southern banns with wit and charm. Armen had a crush on her from afar, evidently, considering those were his exact words to me on the subject. They'd remain pretty much untouched until Fen'Harel started his bullshit.

The city elves were not so lucky. A few years after the end of the Blight, Bann Soris' marriage to a wealthy human woman caused an anti-elven riot, which devolved into streetfighting. King Alistair was forced to put down the civil conflict by force. Soris moved to Highever in disgust that the crown would not defend the alienage. No bann was named to replace him, and most of Denerim's elves moved to Amaranthine under protection of the Grey Wardens, where we would find them.

The Warden Hero did not just touch Ferelden's internal policies, but its external ones too.

In Orzammar, he placed the similarly ruthless and similarly radical King Bhelen in power, rescued Paragon Branka, and gave the Kingdom of Orzammar the power to create golems once more. Orzammar and Ferelden cooperated to recapture many of the lost thaigs.

Although holding the routes underground between the thaigs was impossible, the cooperation of Ferelden meant that doing so wasn't necessary. This brought even more wealth to both kingdoms, and their alliance remained strong for many years.

Better still, this relationship inspired Queen Anora to establish strong relations with the Marcher city-states, turning Ferelden into a trade conduit both between dwarven thaigs but also between Orzammar and the rich Free Marches, benefiting all. Antivan merchant houses were more than eager to invest in the new arrangements, meaning that any Orlesian invasion attempt would also drag the Antivan fleets into the conflict.

All highly praiseworthy achievements, albeit tempered by certain realities.

To be exiled to such a country might very well be seen as a blessing in a poor disguise. The political system could be swayed towards our ideals with little effort, our mages would not be unduly discriminated against, the Chantry was neutered enough to be no threat, there was a larger degree of tolerance for elves from the crown, and the kingdom had already proved its willingness to work with foreign groups for the benefit of the kingdom. You might even go so far as to say that of all the nations of Thedas, we should have been safest in Ferelden. You would be catastrophically wrong.

The problem was that we were Orlesian.

Orlais had invaded the country and imposed a brutal occupation, one that remained within living memory for many. Fereldan children were and are taught of the evil of the Orlesian occupiers, how chevaliers went about killing and raping who they wished, how the mad King Meghren seized the land of free farmers to give to new barons, how bravely the rebels fought to preserve Fereldan independence and culture from a foreign power.

Even today, despite his horrible betrayals, his selling of elves to Tevinter blood mages, and his execution for treason during the Blight, Loghain Mac Tir is regarded as a hero among huge swaths of the Ferelden population. The ultimate fighter of chevaliers.

We were hated before we even arrived, and we would be hated even more for simply being upon Fereldan soil.

Worse, we were going to be regarded as an existential threat to everything Ferelden was. The kingdom had a population of about a million people, highly unusual for a country that produced food for maybe three or four times that many, but we shall not delve into the economics of that here. At the time we set out, the Free Army was twenty thousand strong and the population of Hearth and L'Ambassade not enrolled in the military was fifteen thousand total.

Thirty-five thousand people moving about Orlais was no great shock. Orlais was the most populous nation on Thedas, twenty million people calling it home, even excluding huge numbers of elves outside the reach of the taxmen. Hearth itself was built for maybe four times as many people as had lived in it when I arrived, and the population often followed where the work was.

Thirty-five thousand people moving into Ferelden however, that was beyond mere invasion, it was colonisation. Thirty-five thousand armed, well organised, highly motivated colonists, many of whom couldn't speak a word of the trade tongue and a majority of them elves.

If I was a Fereldan, I would want my country to resist. That we were refugees would not matter, we were armed elven refugees with mages. It would come very close to utter disaster and we knew it.

We needed a plan, and quickly, not least because we'd tear each other to pieces if one didn't materialise quickly.

* * *

Once the preparations for leaving were made over the course of the days after our surrender, and the militia had left to go home with their representatives, the wagons loaded up with food and the contents of our chateau's laboratory, the Free Army marched out of Hearth through the docks and over the bridge. I didn't trust Gaspard entirely, and so decided we should leave with the river as protection.

The civilians were escorted out with whatever parts of their lives they could carrying on their backs, for there was no room on the carts or on horses for anything other than food or cannonshot.

Merchants pulled their tools or produce on makeshift sleds, their wives outraged to have to walk anywhere, never mind to Ferelden. Dockers, both from Hearth and Jader, jostled each other, seemingly undisturbed by the defeat. Children balanced themselves on the tops of the grain sacks on the wagons, or among the smoked carcasses of recently slaughtered pigs.

Grand-Cleric Brandon stood at the end of the bridge on the opposite bank, blessing the soldiers and refugees as they passed, many breaking off from the march to kneel at her feet briefly. Lana clung to her robe, helping dispense moral boosts. Beside them stood the mages and Templars, _sans Tevinters_ , guarding the bridge as the rear guard, all of our cannon in support, aimed at the general direction of the town.

I watched this scene from the docks with my companions, mounted up, waiting for Gaspard and Duval so that we could complete the stipulations of the deal.

Armen and Leha sat on our own wagon, the Earth weapons and books within carefully covered. Through the former's machinations, Lucky and Bob were the packhorses that would pull it. The rest of us were mounted on our own horses. Every single one of us silent, processing what was happened. My own mind was caught up with practical problems, and I'm sure Leha could sympathise.

I remember it being very cold. It was late September now. My nose quickly went numb in the breeze to the point I could not smell anything, the sunlight seeming too dim to warm my face up.

It didn't take Gaspard long to show up with his honour guard, chevaliers leading the way on horseback, yellow feathers fluttering from their masked helms as they came up the quay from behind us. They stopped, seeming to check that there was no threat to their Emperor, before parting and revealing the man himself, dressed pretty much exactly the same way as he had been when we had met, except he was now carrying swords at his waist. Duval and Lienne were missing.

That was wise, given our mood.

"Marquis, Marquise," he intoned, drawing up alongside me on his huge black horse. He said nothing more, and looked at the marching columns of troops exit the gate and move over the bridge, pointedly ignoring him. He was ignoring the reason he was here, for some reason I couldn't fathom.

"Your Radiance," I replied, with a hint of sarcasm. He didn't seem to react, preferring to keep his vigil over our departure for a few minutes before speaking again.

"Your people's resilience is remarkable," he said, "It truly is a pity that you would not join me."

A complaint with a tone that spoke of a renewed offer. I sighed deeply at his presumption.

"We value our freedom above all else," Julie replied, just barely containing the venom she had for the man, "Except that of the lives of our families."

"You have certainly demonstrated that," Gaspard replied, meaning it, "Where will you go?"

I paused, considering that answering that question might be a threat, but remembered that the would-be Emperor had bigger fish to fry now. "The Wolf's Lair," I replied finally, "We have more supplies and wagons waiting there, and we cannot leave the isolationist mages to the Templars."

"And then north along the foothills of the Frostbacks?" Gaspard continued, "Through de Villar's lands, past Jader and out into Ferelden?"

"We haven't decided yet," Julie replied, "But that seems to be the only way."

"Wise," Gaspard responded, "A route that stays in friendly territory."

"Until we get near Jader," Tam responded flatly, "I doubt Lady Seryl would welcome us marching through."

"All the better," Gaspard said, smiling, "She supports Celene. I'll be happy when she does something stupid and you give her army a good thrashing."

"Your concern for us is noted," Julie snapped, before turning back to the marching columns. Revas reared up a little at the sudden change in tone of her master, but a quick pat on the neck saw the horse settle. I felt fatigue creep into my bones. Speaking to and not killing the Grand-Duke was tiring work.

"Before we do what we came here to do..." Gaspard said, "I have news from Halamshiral."

"Good or bad?" I asked, having put the city out of my mind before.

"Both," Gaspard said, "Celene assaulted the walls with siege towers, and the elves repulsed her. It seems the officers you left in the city spent the whole time training and drilling them, and her troops got a nasty surprise."

"It wasn't just elves that gave us Halamshiral, you know?" Julie cut in, "The merchants were with us too, and they're still trapped in there."

"Halamshiral is and always was the elves' city, Marquise," Gaspard rebuked, "Anyway, your fellow rebels won a spectacular victory. It will be temporary. Unfortunately, Lady Vivienne and her followers managed to use the chaos to overpower the few Templars you left with them. They escaped custody and handed the Winter Palace over to Celene."

"Not sure why that's unfortunate," Tam growled, "It was barely defensible in the first place."

"It's unfortunate for me, not for you," Gaspard replied with amusement.

"So you will march against her," I said, "You might as well say so."

"If I must," Gaspard said. For all he knew, I might find some way to warn Celene out of spite. Not damned likely. As far as I was concerned, they could kill each other and the world would be better for it. Corypheus no doubt would have agreed.

The conversation was beginning to annoy me too much, so I pulled the parchment he was here for out from under my armour, and held it out for him to take.

"The formula for blackpowder and instructions on how to make it," I said, "But I must warn you; never use what is written on this paper. Burn it."

Gaspard turned his head towards me in surprise. "Why would I do that?" he asked.

"You'll unleash a tide of death unlike anything you've ever seen," I replied, "Your world isn't ready for this." Not by a long shot.

The firelance was a pretty big reason why nobles couldn't hold on to their power, on my world. All that aristocratic military training could be undone by a peasant with a musket in an instant. That would have consequences.

"So you use these weapons, but say I cannot?" Gaspard retorted, "Hypocrisy, nothing more. I am done here. I have already sent the order for your prisoners at Lydes to be released. Goodbye, Marquis."

He spurred his horse, coming around the front of us. "Chevaliers, destroy it all!" he shouted, riding back to join them.

Half of them dismounted, and went to what had been sitting on the edge of the quay since the first day of our capitulation; our printing presses and boxes of pamphlets. The masked chevaliers began pushing them into the river.

Each splash of a press going into the water made Julie blink and flinch, like she was the one being shoved into the freezing water, undergoing some sort of absurd test for witchcraft. I held out my hand for her to take, which she did. She was shaking, though whether it was sorrow or rage, I could not tell.

* * *

That was the last I would hear from Gaspard de Chalons until the Ball held in the Inquisition's honour at the Winter Palace in 9:41. He marched his army north, while I marched mine east to the mountains.

The journey to the Wolf's Lair took five days, two or three longer than it had the first time I marched with an army to the place, but it was hard going the whole way. The roads in that part of the Hearthlands weren't built to handle tens of thousands of boots, and I was forced to split up the army after the first day to take multiple routes. Soprano, McNulty, and Mike each took a share of the number and went more or less cross-country, the wagons stayed with us on the one 'good' road.

It was so exhausting for all involved, that no one had any time to talk about or fight about what we had done to get to this position. Days were spent on the move. Nights were spent briefly eating, washing, and then sleeping through our aches, mental and physical.

On the night of the fifth day, all four parts of the army rejoined outside our destination within two hours of each other.

Most impressively, the place had changed greatly since I had left it in the hands of Valeria Marable. The Isolationists had turned it into hybrid of a ringfort and a garden. Much of the forest below it had been cleared, and two rings of earthworks surrounded the walls I had once stormed. In the huge spaces between the rings and the wall were cropfields, as well as sections for herbal flowers. The mages we had left behind, both the isolationist elders and the children in their care, seemed genuinely glad to see us.

We were all greatly cheered by the people and the place, though that in itself got us into trouble.

I set the Army pitching camp tents, while Julie, Ciara and I went to formally greet Marable. We had barely sat down inside the former Templar barracks when a runner from Soprano came with a message. Verbal fights were breaking out all over the camp, and it would not have been long until fists flew. With some measure of comfort and safety now assured and utterly fatigued from the journey, the finger-pointing had begun.

With myself utterly burned out, Julie took the lead and got things under control.

* * *

The next day at noon, allowing for plenty of sleep for all involved, we assembled in the Templar barracks. Anyone with a claim to being a leader, anyone with weight, was invited. We didn't exactly have the time or patience for an actual election, so our new Assembly would have been totally offensive to our own principles at any other time, but you go to war with the army you have.

Regimental colonels or sergeant-majors made up about half of the number invited, far from the wisest course, but there it was. Filling out the rest were merchants, dock leaders, 'elders' of the former elven quarter of Hearth, senior workers from the factories of L'Ambassade, the mage leaders... I'm pretty sure a few were even gang leaders, given that they sported similar tattoos to Soprano. I didn't ask, but they sure fit the image.

Next thing I know, I'm sitting on a rickety chair in an out-of-the-way corner with Tam as a shouting match gets rolling. No sooner than Julie had thanked Marable and the Isolationists for not abandoning us and for letting us shelter at the Wolf's Lair, the argument began.

As you can imagine, it was the soldiers who started it.

A sergeant of grenadiers stood up and moving into the middle of the floor, all six foot five inches of him, and pointed a finger at a lady in a black half-mask and matching dress. I recognised him as one of the original recruits, he had been not three paces from me when we ambushed White Mask and his pillaging chevaliers.

"Marquise, what do you intend to do about the traitors among us?" he shouted, not looking at Julie at all, "All last night, me and my men had to listen to constant talk of defeat from certain people present here. We were not defeated, we were betrayed!"

There was a chorus of shouts in support of this from the uniformed men and women behind him, the soldiers rallying together.

The merchant woman stood up, hands on her hips. "The only reason we stand here today is because you soldiers dragged us into a war we could not win!" she retorted, drawing heckles, "All I wanted to do was to choose who ruled me and how I was taxed, not start an Exalted March!"

"How did you plan to do that with a chevalier's sword or an assassin's blade in your gut!" the grenadier scoffed, "Obey or die, those were your only choices without war!"

"Starting a war in anger without preparations was idiotic," the merchant replied, "If we had kept calm, we would have everything we desired. Instead, your kind beat their chest and thought yourselves invincible."

That last sentence was thrown at me personally, sending a twist of guilt through me once more. I rubbed my eyes, just to avoid the gaze. My first instinct was to lash out, but I knew that would have been a bad idea.

"She would have let Halamshiral die and Jader go unavenged!" came a shout from the soldiers, "She would abandon Lord Cloeut to fight alone!" This lit up the entire assembly. Everyone shouted themselves hoarse at each other. Lots of pointing and incoherent babble, clenched fists and red faces.

That was enough for Julie. She stood up, stormed between the merchant and the grenadier, and pointed for them to sit. The room grew quiet in seconds, as neither did what they were told.

"By the Maker, I'm telling you both to sit down," she growled, her hand coming to rest on her handcannon, the only one left with ammunition. The grenadier gave me one glance, and seeing the undoubtedly unamused expression on my face, complied.

The merchant refused point blank to budge until Valle and another two Lucrosian mages pulled her back, complaining that she wouldn't take the man's insult sitting down.

The room remained quiet, as they waited for Julie to speak. Her anger subsiding, she looked around the room to every bench and table where people were sat, an admonishment written in her wide eyes and frown.

"We are here to discuss our future together," she pleaded, "We are not here because we were betrayed, and we are not here because we went to war stupidly. The war was necessary, the high nobles wanted us dead. The war ended because most did not want to sacrifice the lives of their spouses and children so that they could continue to fight alone."

She turned to the soldier.

"What would _you_ have us do, sergeant?" she asked.

The man looked to McNulty of all people. The colonel-turned-general stood up from his seat and moved a little into the middle. "Place the Marquis in command," he said, "March against Halamshiral through _les-Grands-Collines_. Celene and Gaspard will not see us coming if we go by that way. They made a fatal mistake in thinking we were finished, and we can defeat both of them."

A decent plan, I thought. If we disregarded the hell it would undoubtedly unleash on the country. The National Guard had gone home, but they had gone home without weapons. Alone, Gaspard's chevaliers could have retaliated but perhaps been contained. In conjunction with Celene's own, we would have faced exactly the nightmare scenario that the National Assembly had voted to avoid.

Not to mention defeating the two hundred thousand soldiers, every single man-at-arms that could be mustered at short notice for action on Orlesian soil, was far from certain. Especially with only twenty thousand to face them. We couldn't beat that in a single battle either. Soon after any victory of ours, the levying and conscriptions would begin to pad out the royalist ranks. That might ultimately help our political cause, but it would result in huge bloodshed, turning the entirety of Orlesian society against itself.

Julie said none of this, and turned to the civilians present.

"Anyone want to _calmly_ inform our soldiers why that would not work?" she asked.

The merchant that had stood up before went to speak, but was restrained by a few of her fellows, allowing Valle to do so instead. The Lucrosian moved in front of McNulty with a friendly smile.

"I do not doubt for a minute your bravery and skill in battle, no one here does," he said, "Your wages are paid by the commerce of our merchants. The materials for your weapons come from our workers and our wagon drivers. The food that keeps you and the horses marching comes from our farms."

He paused, and began walking down the line of soldiers, parallel to their benches.

"Winter will be here soon, which will make getting all of these things more difficult," he said, "If the royal chevaliers disrupt our commerce, stop delivery of war material, and burn our farms and granaries, you will find continuing to do battle very difficult."

"You could still fight, but you would not win. If we turn back on our word, the chevaliers will almost certainly do all that. We don't have the troops to secure the entire region. We never did. But in order for you to fight the huge numbers against us, we would need every last grain, every shipment of ore, every last coin. And we could not have them."

With that, he gave a small bow to the soldiers and turned back to Julie. I felt my spirits lift slightly at the picture of a gentleman before me.

"My lady, was that sufficient?" he asked.

"That was perfect, _Monsieur_ Valle," she replied sweetly, just as pleased as I was, "You may sit."

The Lucrosian bowed to her, more deeply than before, and instead of taking his former position, he sat down with Armen on the other side of the room. I smirked at his choice of seat. He had literally _crossed the aisle_. A better image of our coming together could not be contrived. I began to hope that we might actually get something done that day.

I didn't count on Tiberius.

"May I speak, Marquise?" boomed the magister's voice from his own corner of the room.

A groan escaped my lips before I could stop it, catching some attention. Julie gave me a warning look. I shook my head, trying to get Julie to refuse, but she didn't see me in time.

"By all means," she said, confused about what he was going to say.

The magister stood up from his table, still dressed in a Free Army uniform. Good for him, I thought, showing up in his mage outfit would have made him look like a jester. This way at least, he'd get heard, and I could publicly reject him. He left his small gathering of battlemages and walked to join Julie. Tam leaned over to me, conspiratorially in fact.

"What does he want?" she asked, like I was in cahoots with the man or something.

"What he always wants," I said, "My finely crafted American ass married to his granddaughter."

"So what's he doing here?" she said.

"Not sure," I replied, "I can't think of anything he could offer that we would agree to."

Tam grimaced, clearly not as sure about that as I was, but straightened up on her chair and crossed her arms to listen nonetheless. The magister was in the middle of a bout of bowing of his own to all sections of the audience when I returned my attention to him. At last, he bowed to Julie, and addressed the room.

"For those who are unaware, I am Titus Tiberius Pansa," Tiberius said, "Military attaché to the Tevinter ambassador to Orlais." That got a howl of offence. Aside from the Qun, Tevinter was perhaps the very antithesis of our ideals.

"Which means he's never done a hard day's work in his life!" Armen cried, and half the room had good chuckle. That was certainly untrue, but Tiberius was by far the highest ranked noble ever to step foot on soil we controlled barring Gaspard himself. Somewhat unfair on a man that had battled the Qunari on Seheron for twenty years, but Armen didn't know too much about that.

"I fought alongside your forces at Lydes and Vindargent," he continued with a smile, "As did my battlemages."

"Everyone here did their part, magister," Leha said from the side, "Get on with it."

"It's very simple," Tiberius said, "I wish to offer you all asylum in the Imperium, under the protection of my family. Safety and freedom along with land, employment, and opportunity for you, your children, and all others afterwards."

The room went as quiet as a crypt. Tiberius' smile widened. I got a warm feeling that the man was about to get rejected before I could even speak again.

Ciara leaned forward in her chair, balancing her elbow on her thigh.

"I don't like to point out the obvious to shems," she said, "But Tevinter has slavery. Where's the freedom going to come from?"

"You are entirely correct," Tiberius said, "I understand that would be a problem for you."

"You think?" Julie said flatly.

"The Magisterium would be perfectly willing to give you and your descendants full immunity from involuntary servitude," Tiberius replied, "And as citizens of the Imperium with huge military and commercial value, you would be able to institute change in due time." What he meant was that our mages would be able to. I didn't get the chance to point that out.

"What is your price then?" Armen stated, "Our technology? Our help against the Qunari?"

"If I wanted your technology, it wouldn't be too hard to steal it," Tiberius mused aloud, "And as for the Qunari, if you saw what they did to their own kind and what they did to ours, you would want to fight them."

To my horror, a murmur of agreement did a Mexican wave around the barracks. People remember the Qunari plot in Hearth even today, albeit with a great deal of previous encouragement due to the Dragon's Breath conspiracy. It was a whole lot more fresh in people's minds then. Executions of Chantry loyalists for being duped into killing their neighbours tended to be a big deal.

"Truly, I would demand only one thing," Tiberius continued, "In return for the protection and support of my family, your glorious marshal, Sam Hunt, Marquis de la Fayette, shall marry my granddaughter, Aurelia Tiberia Valentina."

I think the sound of my palm hitting my face was loud enough even for those in the back to hear, coupled with the descent of yet another stunned silence. The marriage proposal had been secret, and I really wanted to keep it that way. Given that Tiberius had insisted on it before, I thought he was on board with that idea.

"He's already married," Julie lied.

I suddenly cursed not relaying the full details of my last conversation with the magister to her, and thought Tiberius would reveal the fact that it was a sham. Which would have been bad news for morale. That wasn't his game at all.

"Grand-Cleric Brandon," he called into the crowd, "Are you present?"

The Grand-Cleric herself stood up from the small collection of Templars tucked into the opposite corner, straightened her robes, and made her way to Julie's side. Any chance of us being interrupted by the crowd around us disappeared. Many lowered their heads in respect as Brandon passed. Knight-Commander Barris joined her quickly, one hand holding his shield, the other on his sword pommel. Brandon's eyes narrowed to slits barely capable of letting her see when Tiberius smiled and bowed to her.

"Magister, I don't know what you wish of me," she said, "But I know it cannot be good."

"I would like you to explain something to the Marquis for me," Tiberius replied, "As I am sure he is unaware."

"And what is that?" Brandon asked.

"A primary difference between our two Chantries," said Tiberius before turning to me, "You see Sam, the Imperium's chantry split off over ideological differences with the Divine in Orlais, long ago."

"I'm aware," I said, "Magic was the main gripe, as I remember it." Lana had informed me of the difference in one of our 'lessons' and I had inquired further with the Grand-Cleric, just after the Battle of Sahrnia.

"Quite right," Tiberius said, "But also the position of Andraste. Grand-Cleric, if you would explain your perspective?"

Brandon shot a last dark look at the magister, before her face softened as she looked to me.

"We believe Andraste was a divine being, the Bride of the Maker," Brandon explained, "The Imperial Chantry believes she was a mortal prophet, a human. A mage, in fact."

"An unusual one, but yes, a mage," Tiberius replied, "My family was the first of the Altus to embrace the faith of Hessarian, and if anyone knew whether or not she was mortal, it was he who drove a sword through her. Drakon was a charlatan."

This was my first hint that Andraste might have been an Outlander, by the way. Aside from the fact she kicked seven shades out of a magocratic empire.

Tiberius' condemnation of the Orlesian founder of the Chantry raised hackles in the crowd to say the least, but not to the extent of words. No one wanted to interrupt the stinging rebuke about to be delivered by the firebrand cleric the magister had just insulted.

"Magister, recall where you are lest I have Ser Barris run you through," Brandon snarled, "If your purpose was to offend our faith in some vain attempt to convince the Marquis of your Chantry's legitimacy, let me assure you that you have failed. Andraste could have only driven your kind from most of Thedas if she was a divine being, that much is certain. And drive you off she did."

"Incompetence, arrogance, and the effects of a Blight," Tiberius replied calmly, "Those were of far greater consequence, though one cannot deny Andraste was the only one who could have stood victorious."

"I fail to see how any of this is relevant to the Marquis' marital status," Brandon continued, waving Barris forwards. The Templar drew his sword and took a single step. A signal that she was done with the stalling and one I appreciated heartily. Tam even broke out in a smile, undoubtedly pleased to see the _saarebas_ have cause to squirm. Although squirm he did not.

"The only people who can become priests of the Maker in the southern Chantry are women," Tiberius said slowly.

"Of course," Brandon replied, "Andraste was a woman, male priests are a sacrilege. Women are uniquely capable of leading the Chant, appealing to the Maker through his Bride."

My eyebrow curled upwards. I had heard that argument in reverse, and it had never really convinced me. Lucky that the Grand-Cleric was concentrating on Tiberius, or else I think I would have gotten a lecture on the subject.

"And what happens when a Tevinter and a Southerner marry?" Tiberius asked, turning to the crowd, "It happens more than you think, no small number of noble Marcher families with mage children much prefer that they live in freedom in our glorious Imperium, rather than locked up in your ghastly Circles."

There was an audible grumble from many a throat.

"Don't worry," Armen interrupted, "We Southerner mages won't be living in Circles for much longer. Just as I doubt your slaves will remain in chains forever."

"Be that as it may," Tiberius said, "If the Grand-Cleric could answer me..."

The Grand-Cleric's impatience and anger seemed to evaporate, her expression that of deep thought.

"A Revered Mother of our chantry performs the ceremony," she said slowly, "So that both Chantries recognise the marriage as legal."

"Correct, because in the south, only a woman can be an anointed voice of the Maker and your chantry doesn't even recognise that ours exists," Tiberius said, "Which means..."

"You mean to marry Sam to your granddaughter with a male priest of the Imperial Chantry," Brandon completed, as she rubbed her face with disbelief.

"Exactly!" Tiberius said with a smile, "The marriage would be completely illegal in the South. It would not exist, and it could not be polygamy if it did not exist."

"You actually found a loophole," I said in Common, not believing my ears, "Anyone ever tell you you're a son of a bitch that ought to be a lawyer?"

"If I knew what a lawyer was, maybe," Tiberius replied, not getting my meaning.

" _Un avocat_ ," I replied, returning to Orlesian.

"Ahh, I see," Tiberius said, "Interesting. I did rule as a judge after I had completed my military service for a number of years..." Which explained his constantly condescending tone to a large degree. I had thought it to be the result of him being a grandfather or a noble. From the mumbled conversations around the room, it was confirming something in the minds of the crowd.

"Hey, wait a minute," came a shout from the crowd. We turned and saw it was the sergeant of grenadiers with the big mouth. "Wouldn't it still be polygamy in Tevinter?" He soon looked like he regretted flapping his jaw. The magister took to glaring.

"You know, you really should know when to shut up," Tiberius said, losing his patience, "The Imperium's laws are my problem to deal with."

"The man has a valid point," Leha said, "Don't think even you people are allowed to have multiple wives, right?"

"No one witnessed the marriage of the Marquis and Marquise to my knowledge," Tiberius quipped, "In the South, it isn't required by law, testimony before a Revered Mother is enough."

I grimaced. If that was true, then by Chantry law, Julie and I were in fact married. A fact undoubtedly not lost on Julie herself. Her eyes looked to the ceiling. It wasn't a problem she thought would come back to bite us, I guess.

"The Imperium is more legalistic," Tiberius concluded, "We require three witnesses in addition to the Chantry official, and it must be documented. I doubt you have the document, so the marriage doesn't exist under Tevene law."

Though nobles in Orlais typically did the same thing, so they could keep their bloodlines on paper too. Hardly a problem we had to deal with, what with Julie being a commoner and me being a commoner from _another world._ Not that any of the real nobles would have wedded without as many people seeing it as possible either.

Not hard to tell he was descended from Romans, the great inventors of paperwork in the West. Again, read _A History of Earth_ if you want an explanation on that one.

"Great," I said flippantly, "While this wonderful diversion into the Chantry's history and the laws of the lands has been entertaining..."

"It brings us to the real question," Tiberius said at last, playing to the crowd, "Will you marry my granddaughter to save your people?"

I remained silent, staring at him.

"I would remind you, Marquis," Tiberius said, "That you were willing to stop fighting your mortal enemies to save your people. What I ask is nothing like as difficult or dangerous."

Which was true enough. Like a coward, I couldn't outright reject him knowing that.

"It's not my choice alone to make," I said, passing the buck as best I could.

I looked to Julie for an answer, for a negative answer to be specific.

To my utter shock, her brow raised itself once. She was seriously considering it. She was asking me to seriously consider it. A lump rose in my throat. My head swivelled to Tam for some help. She seemed to hold the magister in utter contempt, I could at least count on her to sink this mad plan. She said and did nothing. She would go along with it too.

My first personal encounter with another natural conclusion of Orlesian polyamory... you love who you want, but marry who you must. Especially if you are a noble.

I began to feel the eyes of the room pile up on me.

* * *

What else could I have done but say yes?

I certainly didn't see any alternative. Neither did Julie, or else the rejection of Tiberius' proposal would have been instant. Not to mention unanimous, as she could have swung the civilians.

Instead, the next seven hours were filled with rigorous, tedious debate on whether or not we could trust Tiberius, and the details of whatever moves we were going to make. None of which involved how the hell we were going to get to Ferelden and how the hell we were going to stay safe for long enough for Tiberius' promised fleet to arrive. Tevinter was no short journey, and certainly not one to be taken easily by ocean in winter.

I couldn't even get a word in edgewise over Armen and Ciara's fervent objections to the whole plot, voicing the opinion of at least half the assembled notable folks. Particularly the elves, who didn't trust the old magister's guarantees on slavery as far as they could throw him. That sounded an awful lot like wisdom to me either way.

Those more agreeable to the idea of us becoming a state within Tevinter were more measured in their responses. Barris soon boosted their cause by answering honestly about whether or not his Fereldan countrymen would look to kill us. Always was too honest for his own good. Tiberius was very quick to jump on the hatred that Ferelden had for Orlesians, and he swayed a chunk of soldiers over to his side with that, but not enough to settle the question.

Seven hours is seven hours.

I found my eyes getting heavy after about half that time, and swung my chair around so the back would support my weight from the front. Meanwhile, Tam listened intently to every speaker beside me. I slept between the sixth and seventh hour, and woke when I almost fell off the chair. No one had seemed to notice. Everyone wanted their say.

"Any progress?" I asked Tam, still attentive to the ruckus as she had been when I had drifted off.

"None whatsoever," Tam frowned, "They can't get over slavery or the distance from Orlais."

"The distance from Orlais?" I asked, "That's a new complaint. Why does that matter?"

"The soldiers would like to come back and fight one day," she replied, "Your generals can't accept the surrender."

I sighed, nodding. "Either can I, really," I said, "We need to do something about that."

I examined the room for someone who might have ideas about that, ideas that might defuse the tension over that question, but I couldn't find her.

My jaws opened wide in a colossal yawn. "Where is Lady Briala?" I said.

"Pacing the walls with that Dalish saarebas," Tam said, "She doesn't know what to do. I don't think her protector does either."

"Tallis?" I asked.

"Locked up in a cave with the Viddasala," Tam said, "But I don't think she'd help."

"Maybe the Viddasala would?" I asked, "She's had plenty of time to think about things."

"I would give her more," Tam said.

I tilted my head, conceding to her superior knowledge of her fellow Qunari. I rested my head on the top of the chair and regarded the continued debate, not really listening but watching the faces. The enthusiasm and energy I had seen at the start and had remained just an hour previously was gone. They were getting as tired as I was, and can you blame them? Arguing for hours is very hard work, despite what some might say. They weren't the only ones either.

Lana wandered into the barracks hall, rubbing her eyes.

My little teacher was dressed in her green dress, and seemed barely upright. She completely ignored the adults shouting around her, and they ignored her. Through the argument she walked, coming up to Brandon and giving her Chantry robes a tug. The Grand-Cleric knelt down and Lana whispered in her ear. Brandon seemed amused by something, and pointed our way.

Lana came over and climbed up onto Tam's lap, laying her head on a bare shoulder, wrapping her arms around Tam's body, and yawned at least as widely as I had been. Tam beamed a bright smile at me, while I looked on, glad of the distraction.

"Tired already?" Tam joked softly, "What were you doing?"

"Exploring," Lana said, her eyes closed, "With my new friends?"

"New friends?" I asked.

"They can make their hands go on fire," Lana explained.

I recalled that we had left all the mage children behind for safekeeping, and as the children of Hearth were very used to magic by this stage, no doubt both groups got on like a house on fire. Quite literally in the case on one unfortunate storage shed, which 'mysteriously' had went up in flames that morning. The culprit was not of the age of criminal responsibility.

"You know you weren't allowed to come in here," Tam said, "Look at all these big idiots shouting."

The racket had quieted some, but not by much.

Lana lifted her head off Tam's shoulder blew a fart out of her lips, pouting. "Then don't go here," she whined, before getting comfortable again. I breathed a laugh. Yes, even in those days, Lana Duquesne did whatever the hell she wanted.

"Why did you want to see me?" Tam asked the little girl.

"I want to hear a story," Lana said, "You're always good at telling stories."

"What story?" Tam said, "A new one or..."

"The one with the queen and the goddess," Lana insisted.

Tam hummed, not sure which story that was. "The queen?" she asked.

"Dido!" Lana said, her voice raising, "She let the people into the city and they lived happily ever after!" So it was an Earth story. One I recognised well.

"If you know the story, why do you want to hear it again?" I asked.

"Tama is good at telling it," Lana replied, "Like I am there too."

Couldn't fault that line of thought. Tam was good at telling a story, when the mood took her. Apparently, it took her often when it came to the younger children she taught.

"Well, looks like you have no choice," I said to Tam.

She didn't reply. My Qunari lover was still, except for her eyes, which moved from side to side. She bit her lip, falling deep into thought.

"Tam?" I asked, "Are you alright?"

She snapped out of it, and looked at me, eyes wide. It wasn't shock or horror on her face. It was revelation. A eureka moment. I waved, trying to get her attention, to no avail.

Lana noticed my gesture, and looked up at Tam. "What is it Tama?" she asked, "Is something the matter?"

Tam's trance broke. She began kissing the girl's forehead repeatedly, as a massive grin spread over her face. Lana began giggling.

"You are genius," she said to the kid, "You know that?"

"Yes?" Lana answered.

I snorted, not sure where it was going. My mind felt sluggish from the nap, and I hadn't put two and two together yet.

"I have the solution," Tam said, "Something to hold onto. Perhaps something to put the _dathras_ over there down too."

"And it was her idea?" I asked, pointing at the girl on her lap.

Tam nodded. "She wants to hear the story of Aeneas going to Carthage," she explained. She began hugging Lana tight, getting more tired giggles.

Finally, it clicked.

I understood what she wanted to propose. I got up off the chair suddenly, with enough force that it tipped over. Why the hell I myself did not think of it was a complete mystery. I slapped myself upside the head. Of course that was the answer. The Pilgrims did it, and so did every other persecuted or ignored group from across my world. My homeland was founded on such stories as much as tales of resistance to tyranny.

"Tell them!" I said, "Now."

Tam picked up Lana and put her in the chair. Going as unnoticed as Lana had been, she paced to behind Julie and Leha's seats. As soon as I saw that she was in the midst of explaining the idea, I went and dropped myself down in between Armen and Ciara. They both looked like they needed cheering up, given that Tiberius was inching ever closer to getting agreement. Lana followed, and sat at my feet, laying her head on my leg.

"Hold on to your asses," I said in a low voice, "Tam has an idea."

"Will it stop us from going to Tevinter?" Armen asked, unamused.

"Most certainly," I replied.

"Good," Ciara said, "Because I was five minutes from killing the magister myself."

Julie's face beamed as Tam's words flowed into her ear, her eyes bright with hope for the first time since the surrender. I knew she was going to like the plan, but it was most interesting to Leha's frustration and anger disappear in favour of a deep, thoughtful expression.

With all my companions on board, and with the loyalty of my generals and officers assured, the plan was a lock. All that needed to be done was speak it.

Julie rose from her seat.

The gruff docker from Jader that had been talking about why not to trust Vinters, right to Tiberius' smirking face, ceased speaking. "My lady," he said, moving aside.

"We have a solution," Julie said, "One that should satisfy everyone."

"And what is that?" Tiberius asked, his smirk disappearing.

Julie returned to her seat, leaving the magister alone with Tam in the aisle. He looked thoroughly uncomfortable there too.

"We need to control our own destiny," Tam said, ignoring Tiberius entirely, "I have seen the Tevinter Imperium, how they behave to those they believe lesser than they are. It is no place to live. If you value freedom over slavery, if you believe that everyone should have an equal chance at life, we cannot go there."

"So says the _Qunari_ ," Tiberius replied coldly.

"The Qun is no better, it is true," Tam said, not losing her cool, "In truth, it is worse. But that is not a reason to go rushing north."

"What other option do you have?" Tiberius asked, "Ferelden will not accept you, and only Holy Tevinter would not kill you all for accepting mages and elves."

He was entirely correct there, and it made me sick to my stomach that it was the case.

"Simple," Tam replied, "We shall found our own realm. A city, unlike any other. A free city. _The_ free city."

The representatives began speaking among themselves in quiet tones, more thinking aloud than engaging in conversation. It was a radical idea, one that no one had considered. Even Tiberius seemed taken aback by its ambition.

"You did something unique here," Tam continued, "Under Sam and Julie, you destroyed thousands of years of tradition and made yourselves into a new people. Why should you beg to Fereldans or magisters?!"

The soldiers got up on their feet and applauded. Through Julie's politics and my military training, we had turned them from serfs into citizen-soldiers. The idea of pleading to King Alistair or Archon Radonis was not only offensive to them, it was repulsive. Conversations I had during the following weeks gave me a strong impression that those who had intended to take Tiberius' offer would have tried to start a massive slave rebellion.

"The Mistress speaks right!" Mike shouted, living up to her nickname, "Before Free Orlais, I was nothing! I will not be nothing again!"

The soldiers roared, joined now by most of the civilians. McNulty and his grenadiers began stomping their feet in unison.

Julie rose once more. "It is our destiny," she declared, "Perhaps the Maker intended this from the beginning. The old realms are corrupt. A new one is required."

I felt my chest swell with pride, with purpose once more. A new nation upon the world. We would have to survive Ferelden, it was true, but now we would have a reason to want to survive. Better still, we would not have to manoeuvre and negotiate the intricacies of a country as ancient as Orlais. The Great Game was over. We weren't playing any longer.

Tiberius was utterly flabbergasted, throwing up his arms and shaking his head.

"Realms require land, do they not?" he said loudly, over the drumbeat of grenadier-boot, "Shall you take it from Ferelden?"

It was a good question, and not one I had an answer to. But Tam had already thought of it. She held her hand up for some quiet, and received it readily.

"The magister speaks correctly, we need land," Tam said, "We could take it from Ferelden, but we would be at war with them from now until the end of time. They have a strength that is not to be underestimated."

That got a nod from Barris, a man no doubt glad to hear we weren't going to dismember his nation of birth.

"There are less difficult paths," Tam continued, "The Free Marches are divided, and Rivain is weak. We do not need an empire, only a city. There are many places we can settle in either, I saw much good land on my journey to Orlais."

In fact, outside of their cities' walls, most 'realms' of the Free Marches weren't really controlled at all. Starkhaven being the singular exemption from that rule. Rivain was even worse, having no coherent government to speak of. This was well known to even the poorest Orlesian; the Emperors had pointed to the barely contained chaos of the Marchers for centuries as proof of the superiority of their own rule.

A new town of tens of thousands would not bother them. Not until it was too late for them to do anything about it.

Tiberius looked to me with a sly smile. Tam had just played into his hands, as it turned out.

"The Free Marches and Rivain are across the sea," he said, "There are too many obstacles to march there, and not enough time until your agreement with the Grand-Duke expires. If you wish to do this, you must still go to Ferelden and sail from there. I have ships, and I can hire many more. My offer of help stands. I will take you to the Free Marches, every soul, at my own expense. Tevinter will consider you allies."

The magister turned to me.

"The price remains the same," he said, "Aurelia for your new nation's birth."

One promised birth for another.

I threaded both my hands behind my head. I would need to talk to Julie and Tam about the marriage in a more private setting, but it seemed so distant. Too distant to worry about. What we needed right there and then was the purpose that Tam had laid out. Not everyone in our army of rebels would agree to it, of course, but most required the direction and drive it would give them.

I rose up and approached Tiberius. I held out my hand for him, and he took it.

"We accept," I said, as I shook magister's hand.

Thus began our Aeneid.

* * *

 _AUTHOR'S NOTE: And we're back after a month!_

 _I think it's fair to say that the last chapter was the most controversial thus far. Long, long foreshadowed, yet it caught many off balance. Very pleasing for me, because I do enjoy answering reader reviews._

 _This chapter has been in my head since day one of writing, before Tiberius was even fully formed as an idea. The state of Ferelden more generally after the events of the Fifth Blight has been asked about before, this answers many of those questions. I've had to drawn conclusions on certain things, like marriage laws, from the base canon._

 _The Outlanders poll results were very interesting. Lots of love for the First Outlander, the centurion. A lot less for Keijiro, though that'll change once Aurelia enters the scene, I suspect. Most pleasing however is that the two guys who haven't had any mention in the main story got a good amount of votes._

 _It was perhaps stupid to put the First Outlander on the poll, so a new one is going up with a new option for whose story will be published after his._

 _Also, we've passed 350 followers and are approaching 300 favourites on this story. Which makes me pretty damn proud, particularly as this is quite a niche story, I think._

 _Thanks for reading!_

 _ **FluffySnake:** Fereldans hate Orlesians. Gaspard isn't giving them gunpowder, he's sending a group they hate to stir some shit. Needless to say, shit will be stirred._

 _ **Katkiller-V:** I hadn't actually decided the exact arrangements of Ferelden until I wrote this chapter, except that Alistair and Anora ruled jointly and the Circle was granted independence. The rest I had to figure out from the personality of the Hero of Ferelden that I've constructed. Dragon Age has three personality types, Noblebright, Grimdark and Snark-Cynic. _

_Amell is the Grimdark player character for this story, so I thought of him going about, sleeping with Morrigan a lot and screwing with people he hates, being generally ruthless and yet smart enough to keep on the good side of most of his companions. For the record, Hawke will be the Snark-Cynic and the Inquisitor will be Noblebright, with similar twists to Amell not being outright evil._

 _The old rules are indeed a bitch._

 _ **Mireczek:** We had a great conversation about this by PM, but I'll summarise my points here for others. _

_Gaspard absolutely would kill his own peasants to preserve the Empire, both his chances of ruling it and the system of government that it exists under. Particularly when most of them are elves._

 _The prisoners weren't brought on the march with him, they can't be rescued. Orlais is more than capable of feeding them, and doesn't exactly have to feed them all that well either. In fact, Orlais can feed huge numbers of people in general, as long as it is on their own soil. Hence the huge numbers brought against the Free Army, and how the prisoners can be kept as leverage._

 _ **5 Coloured Walker:** This story will continue, there won't be other published stories except for side projects like the story of the other Outlanders._

 _Politics mostly dictated Orlesian tactics against the Free Army up until Vindargent. It wasn't enough to simply burn the farms, the rebels had to be crushed. Eventually, that got far too costly._

 _ **Jarjaxle:** Just because Gaspard now has the formula for gunpowder doesn't mean he'll be constructing cannon and firelances any time soon. Pretty much all the experts at building them are being exiled, but that's part of the point. If they're in Orlais, Celene can backchannel her way into stealing their expertise. He gets to keep the formula to himself, and there are more simple applications of the tech that are almost as devastating._

 _Julie's pamphlet has spread there, yes. They'll know who she is, and who Sam is. Whether or not makes a difference, you'll have to see._

 _ **OnkelJo:** I'm looking forward to the chapters in Ferelden itself._

 _ **ImperatorRex:** You may kill the revolutionary, but never the revolution._

 _ **Ioialoha:** Merci_

 _ **Suna Chunin:** That's a pretty accurate reaction to have._

 _ **Transcendant:**_ _Gaspard had tens of thousands of troops, and as many as one hundred thousand total over the course of the campaign. Not all of them were peasant levies, there were the professional household guard of his many chevaliers too. Aside from that, the crossbow and longbow are still viable weapons. Sam only have seven thousand firelancers, and his supply of blackpowder and ammunition is not unlimited._

Even so, Sam's forces showed their superiority in every confrontation, but it simply wasn't enough. Gaspard had numbers, Duval used them to avoid battle and push the Free Army back to Hearth, and they both saw an opportunity to exploit the political leadership of the rebellion to end the conflict. Sure, Sam could have broken out of the siege, but he couldn't have done it fast enough to stop thousands upon thousands being murdered, raped and robbed. Even if he could have, the guys voting on it wouldn't have taken the chance. It was their families and homes they were gambling on, after all. They were willing to play when it seemed like Sam was winning, or when Gaspard seemed to be acting in a civilised manner, but all bets were off when the brutality starts and there's no army between their families and the scythe of destruction.

 ** _Okiro Benihime:_** _I hope this chapter gives you plenty of reason to keep reading!_

 ** _Paxuss:_** _It wasn't a stalemate, it was a defeat by political means. America won almost every battle in Vietnam, but lost the will to fight. The same thing happened here, albeit in a different manner._

 ** _Bruto22:_** _Hope this gives you reason to keep going as well._

 ** _OBSERVER01:_** _He has indeed learned his lesson._

 ** _Dac13:_** _That is very high praise indeed._

 _As for the Hero of Ferelden, yeah, they'll make a brief appearance. In a way I don't think people are going to expect, but that's a long way off. And yes, Morrigan will meet Leha._

 ** _Thepkrmgc:_** _Thank you very much for reviewing every chapter! I'm glad you took the time to do that, and for your appreciation of the story._


	38. Chapter 38: Exodus

**Chapter Thirty-Eight: Exodus**

The Aeneid is a story written by a man named Virgil, two thousand years ago.

It describes the fall of a great city in the East after a war lasting ten years, in which every king and hero of the age fought. The war began with the elopement of the most beautiful woman in the world with the young prince of the city, divinely initiated when a conflict in heaven set off a chain of events on Earth. Even the gods chose sides, supporting their favourites, meddling and watching the combat. After ten years, and the death of the greatest warrior of the East, the city was finally breached by cunning. The invaders sacked it in a whirlwind of violence, and the woman was reclaimed.

That woman was Helen, the namesake of Tam's first child. Our first.

From the infernos, a man fled with his family and his followers. He was Aeneas, the son of the goddess Venus, deity of love. The story goes that Venus made all the other gods fall in love with mortals, so Jupiter, the king of the gods, made her fall for Aeneas' father. Pretty good explanation for why the gods would stoop to loving mere mortals, I'm sure Andraste would agree.

With the defeat of his people, he was tasked with a divine purpose; to make his way to a land called Italy, to bring his followers to what would become the greatest city in the world; Rome. Tiberius' ancestor was born in the very same city in its golden age. My own country and the civilisation which it led when I was taken owes much of its values to Rome as well.

While it is almost certainly myth, or perhaps the half-remembered story of another set of refugees embellished over thousands of years, it inspired our own great journey.

My new countrymen and countrywomen have been enthralled with all things from Earth, ever since the day I ordered hundreds of mages to kill me and stood against everything they could throw. Above all, the stories of my world have been obsessed over, whether historical or fictional. The Aeneid is one of the few special stories among them, because I didn't have to write it down from memory. A copy was among the books brought from Earth.

The idea that someone on my world had done what we were setting out to do before was a great comfort to many. Not least because the descendants of the refugees began something, something that eventually led to the creation of all the marvels that I had brought to Thedas. The technologies, the political ideals, even the comradeship and discipline of true soldiery. Rome was the beginning of everything.

But not everyone was enthusiastic. The story united much of our people, but was a large reason why a minority felt they could no longer follow us.

The civilians who felt this way had no choice, they were exiled from Orlais regardless, but there was no shortage of soldiers who wished to stay and continue the fight. Not least a significant proportion of our chevaliers and men-at-arms from areas other than Hearth.

To them, a two thousand year old story from another world could not inspire, whereas a war of resistance could and did.

And it seems they found a loophole of their own.

Gaspard had exiled the Free Army, but Gaspard had also failed to define who exactly the Free Army was. The dissidents requested formal discharge, so that they could continue to fight under a banner of their own.

The issue I had with it was... complex, to say the least.

* * *

Tiberius, Gaius and the rest of the Tevinter mages prepared to leave the afternoon after we decided on founding a new city.

They set aside the mixed green uniforms of the Free Army, and donned their strange, hooded Vinter battlemage armour once more. They gathered by the entrance with their horses, the dracolisks having been left behind months ago to avoid publicly tipping their hand to the rest of Orlais that they were in fact soldiers of the Imperium. It was an open secret of course, but plausible deniability was the name of the game.

I had spent the whole night organising our army for a long march, eventually falling asleep sitting down at a desk. I awoke late in the morning, and waded back into business at once. I was informed that Tiberius and his retinue were to leave about two minutes after receiving de Villar's report on the wish of many to depart our ranks.

I asked the chevalier to get me a list of everyone who wanted to go, and I made my way down quickly to the gate of the outer ring alone, wondering if Tiberius had intended to leave without so much as a word. Doing so would have been just like him to my mind, and it was more than a little irritating.

I found the magister in great spirits, joking with his subordinates. He looked ten years younger, truth be told. My pace slowed at the sight. The importance of my match to Aurelia dawned on me, and I got a feeling in my gut that maybe it was going to be impossible to wriggle out of. Yet he seemed more a friend at that moment than before, which was a bizarre thing.

Gaius, by contrast, looked like he could put his head through a brick wall and was about to do it. No secret why that was.

"Ah Sam, excellent timing," Tiberius said, arms held out, "I was about to send someone to find you."

I pointed to the pickets on the earthworks above us. "Tiberius... my people were wondering if you were leaving," I said, "I thought that strange. You haven't even told us where in Ferelden your fleet will pick us up from."

"Please, call me Father," Tiberius said, not joking, "We will be family soon, after all."

Gaius let out a groan, which very much tempted me into complying with the magister's request. Almost fell for it. Tiberius was either quite disappointed with his male children and grandchildren or he was attempting to manipulate me.

"Yeah, that's not happening," I said, "Why are you leaving so soon?" Best to keep on point. Tiberius had gotten what he wanted, for the moment, no need to give him reason to doubt by pretending to like him.

"I need to get back to Val Royeaux," Tiberius replied, "Organising transport for the number of people following you will not be difficult, even with the horses and ponies, but I can only do it from the capital. The message crystals to communicate with home are there. I couldn't risk them falling into Orlesian hands. With Gaspard marching on Celene, I need to leave immediately to avoid being delayed." Or being caught by royal soldiers. That would end badly in the atmosphere of a civil war.

I nodded. "Understandable," I said.

"Bring your army to Amaranthine by First Day," Tiberius said, "The transport and an escort of warships should arrive by that time."

That gave us a little more than three months to get there. Given we could take the Imperial Highway, that was more than doable. The problem was that it was the most distant port we could have used, barring Denerim itself. I had been familiarising myself with maps of Ferelden since the formal surrender.

I had hoped during my overnight studies that we could slip through Gherlen's Pass and go straight to the nearest coastal town, West Hill. That would have avoided conflict with the Ferelden Crown, because by the time Alistair and Anora could have reacted effectively, we would be safely away to sea.

"Why Amaranthine?" I asked, "West Hill is a coastal settlement, and it is much closer to Orlais."

"What, aside from Amaranthine being the largest port in Ferelden?" Gaius snarked, throwing a hand, "Do you have any idea how many ships will be needed?"

I wasn't appreciative of his attitude. "I was in the infantry, excuse me if I don't have a fucking clue about primitive sailing ships," I replied, "Keep up with that tone and you'll get my infantry boot up your ass." I was somewhat exaggerating about my ignorance of the subject, but I had just assumed we didn't require an actual port. Or that we could build one, what with the hundreds of mages we had.

Sparks quite literally flew from Gaius' hand, as he struggled to remain calm. Not helped by my contempt for his abilities. That was undoubtedly unfamiliar to him as a mage.

"Gaius is right," Tiberius said, coming to the defence of his grandson, "We need a port city. It will be winter, the weather won't allow us to use West Hill, and it would take too long to load your people on board without a port regardless."

"We stay too long and the Fereldans will mass an army to resist," I said flatly, "Weather is hardly what I'm worried about most."

"You have killed Orlesians in the name of liberty before," Tiberius replied, "You can kill Fereldans just as easily. Besides, Amaranthine is almost neutral ground. There is a chance, a small one, that you could avoid conflict with the King and Queen there."

"Why's that?" I asked.

"It's controlled by the Grey Wardens," Tiberius replied, "They do not formally submit to royal authority. If you are going to found a new realm, they will undoubtedly want you to commit to a treaty of assistance in case of a Blight. Use that as leverage."

"That doesn't sound like it's going to happen," I said, "And we still have to march through the northern Bannorn to get there. Barris' own father is a bann on the shore of Lake Calenhad, and he tells me they will not take kindly to our presence, whether or not the king is with them."

"They will not have the numbers to stop you," Tiberius said, "Amaranthine, First Day. I'll see you then. If I'm not dead at the bottom of the Waking Sea. The fleet will be there regardless."

"Good luck," I said, finding that I meant it.

"Thank you," Tiberius said, before turning to his men, "Centurion, we shall depart."

The nearest battlemage slapped his closed fist against his chest in salute, and began barking orders in Tevene to the others. They complied, moving off at random to find their horses, the magister going with them to get his own. It was a mockery of military organisation to me, but I had seen worse on Earth. My thoughts drifted to what sort of military Tevinter might have, how they fought and how the Qunari fought a nation of mages.

Until I noticed Gaius had not left.

He just stood there, not looking at me or anything else in particular, close enough that I could punch him. I sighed loudly.

"You have something else to say," I asked, with a good deal more hostility than was necessary.

Gaius finally deigned me worthy to look at directly. "You accepted his offer," he said, "I thought you would reject it." There was a certain despair in his eye that jarred me. He loved Aurelia, and he was growing to hate me.

Not wanting to give away my true feelings on the matter, I shrugged that statement off. Truth be told, I still had no wish to marry, but I could hardly let Gaius get even a hint of that. He'd seize on it to sabotage the … alliance I had brokered with his grandfather, and Tevinter itself. He struck me as petty enough to put aside his country's interest for love. Of a cousin no less. Ick, as my own younger sister would say.

"Unless you're lying," Gaius added, "Using us to get what you need." His tone brightened, giving away his poor attempt to get a read on me. I saw right through it.

"I'm not," I said, "The truth is that I can't afford to have the Imperium as an enemy, and thirty five thousand people are counting on me to make sure they don't get trapped in Ferelden."

Gaius' head dropped. He was acknowledging my point, as anyone would in such a situation. He just didn't like the answer. I let a breath out slowly.

"Look, it isn't personal," I added, "I'm not deliberately trying to get in your way. It'll be a political marriage, nothing more. If Aurelia is okay with it, then I won't stop you once my duty is done. Not like I intend to be faithful either, and she'll know that."

"Doesn't matter," Gaius said, "Once you meet her, you'll fall for her and she'll fall for you."

I frowned. "You seem awfully sure of that," I said.

"You have too much in common," Gaius said, "You're both soldiers, she'll like that. She'll like that you're willing to do your duty regardless of your personal obligations. Your personalities are different, but I can see already, you'd trade off each other."

"In case you didn't notice," I said, "I'm not lacking for affections."

"It won't make a difference," Gaius said, glaring, "Aurelia gets what she wants. Always."

"She's never met Tam," I replied.

Gaius smiled. "Aurelia is fighting the Qunari right now, but your one does seem very … formidable," he said wistfully, "I might pay good money to see such a display."

"Hang around and you will," I said, "Although I'll have to stop it before anyone dies."

"That may be difficult," Gaius replied.

"I can walk through magic, remember?" I smirked.

Gaius tilted his head, admitting I had a point, before wandering off to join his grandfather. He had said his piece, and I had little inclination towards stopping him.

As I had to wait for Louise de Villars to tell me who else would be leaving, I began walking back up the hill to the walled section. After what Gaius had just said to me, I felt I needed to be with Julie and Tam very strongly indeed.

* * *

I found Julie holding court in the barracks, sitting in the middle of the central table with Leha to one side of her, Velarana whispering in her ear to the other. There was a line of people, civilians, waiting to make some complaint or another, controlled by a half dozen of Soprano's Rangers armed with firelances. Bayonets fixed, no less.

I remember this in particular because it was the first time I think Julie looked like an empress.

The room was totally lacking in finery, having nothing more than a stone statue of Andraste for decoration, Julie was dressed in Free Army Green, as were her advisors, there were no banners on the walls or windows, the only food in sight was a bowl of gruel, but all that didn't matter. She was in her element, sitting at ease while making decisions. Julie Marteau looked like a ruler now, not a revolutionary. Her doubts seemed to have disappeared in the wake of Tam's great contribution.

For the record, it was incredibly sexy.

Which of course prompted me to play a little. Now that I wasn't worried sick for the future, my appetites had been restored fully. I approached, the eyes of the civilians following me, and when I stood before Julie, I bowed low from the waist in a mockery of obeisance for a royal. She smiled warmly at me, as amused as I was and happy to see me.

Leha rolled her eyes and shook her head, returning her attention to her notes.

"You look great today," I said. Not exactly very imaginative, I know. Sue me.

Julie's eyebrow cocked upwards. "And you're in a good mood," she said, "Any particular reason?" It wasn't a serious question, we were all in better cheer since the night before, but I had still more reason to be chirpy.

"For the first time in months, I don't feel like I need to look over my shoulder," I said, "Tiberius just left, happy as a dog with a bone."

Julie's smile dampened noticeably. "Of course he is," she said, "He got exactly what he wanted."

"True," I replied, "And we need to discuss that with Tam. Where is she?"

"Right here," called Tam from behind. She approached and gave me a kiss, before leaning over the table to do the same to Julie. Her lips were cold, but she had taken to going about her duties without the furs that everyone else seemed to be wearing when they were outside.

"People are in good spirits since the announcement," Tam said, "The children most of all."

"It was a very good idea," Julie said, her smile restoring to its full warmth, "I think people will remember you for this." Indeed, they would. The smiles followed Tam around the camp, as far as I could tell.

"I hope not," Tam said, rubbing her hands together, "I just want to warm up."

"That can be arranged," Julie said, her tone suggesting everything I wanted of it. I glanced at Tam, and her eyes pretty much promised the same, running up and down both of us for a few seconds each.

Leha groaned. "Business before pleasure," she complained grumpily, "Just in case the rutting begins early, Sam, care to tell us now where Tiberius intends us to take ship from?"

"He did say he would inform us today," Velarana added, maintaining her usual calm demeanour, "Without his ships, our whole purpose is impossible."

"Amaranthine," I said, "I tried to talk him into West Hill, but apparently he needs a real port."

Leha looked at Julie darkly. "That's bad news," she said.

"Why?" I asked.

"We don't have enough food to get that far," Velarana said.

That made no sense to me. We had moved similar numbers of troops and horses around with less supplies before, and over greater distances. The civilians would slow us down, but we had almost every wagon in the eastern Dales to make sure the slowest were kept moving. Evidently, my confusion was visible on my face, because Leha explained.

"The roads northward from here are very bad, we're too used to the Imperial Highway," Leha said, "Not to mention it's hill country, the weather will get worse soon, there will be Avvar tribes to contend with, plus the other problem..."

"What other problem?" I asked.

Leha cleared her throat, seemingly not wanting to speak. "One in six of our soldiers will not be fit for heavy marching by month's end," she said.

I paused, waiting to hear the reason why or for her to explain how we could make them fit again. The answer was not forthcoming.

"Jesus Christ, you're serious," I said, putting my face in my hands, "How the hell did that happen?"

"Unavoidable circumstance," Leha said, "It's your fault, really."

"What the hell does that mean?" I asked.

"A third of our female soldiers are pregnant," Julie stated flatly, "We knew about some of them before, but I had the mages check the health of every soldier yesterday, to distract the army for a day. They got caught out."

If my jaw could have dropped to the floor, it would have.

I was no stranger to soldiers getting pregnant, it was common as hell. The US Army never had a balanced gender ratio like the Free Army had at that time, so one in three meant that we had over three thousand prospective mothers currently bearing arms. It was the scale of the problem that really hit me, plus one other thing.

"How's that _my_ fault!" I asked Leha, my voice raised. She was acting like I had knocked up three thousand women my own damn self.

Leha looked to the Aequitarian mage for the answer. "Given the condition of the women in question," Velarana said, "We can be sure that most became pregnant after Sahrnia."

That didn't fly with me.

"So you're saying I'm responsible because I won a battle," I said flatly, "That's what you call one of those good problems, I guess. Victory babies."

"No, I don't blame you for winning," Leha growled, "I blame you for kissing these two idiots in front of the entire army just before the battle. And after it. And on campaign. You really can't keep it in your pants, let's be honest."

I finally understood what she was getting at. I had been a bad example when it came to abstaining.

"Fraternisation," I nodded, "Okay, you might have a point. What do we do?"

Leha flung her arms in frustration, apparently

"The women should be able to walk for another few months," Tam said, "But I would advise that they are not given heavy loads to carry, and they are given extra food."

Wouldn't be too hard to organise. Like I said, we had a shitload of wagons and horses. I suppose that back in our ancient past, women had to walk long distances in such a condition anyway. Tam was the nearest thing we had to a medical expert we had on this... situation.

"A better route would be good too," Leha said, "Even without this shit, I'm not happy about marching through the mountains in winter. Even with the supplies that we can get from _Les Grandes Collines_ , we'll barely make it out of Orlais before First Day."

"Which gives Lady Seryl and Ferelden plenty of time to prepare," Julie concluded, "Not good."

"We'll call a war council, see if there aren't any other options," I sighed, before turning to Tam, "Can we talk to you after about the whole... thing with Tiberius?" She had seemed far too quiet about it until now.

Tam looked between Julie and I with soft eyes. "Of course," she said, "I insist."

"Claire is coming for dinner with the children," Julie said, "Maybe after that would be best."

I nodded reluctantly. The last time I had spoken to Claire had been the night of the Day of the Long Knives, but I couldn't ignore Julie's sister forever simply to avoid facing my own guilt about the death of her other one. Might as well confront two awkward subjects at the same time.

"Call the war council in an hour," Julie said, "And order the army to be ready to march at a day's notice. Every minute we sit here is another minute closer to the Fereldans knowing we're coming."

"As you wish, my lady," I said, bowing theatrically once more.

* * *

All our military bigwigs showed up in the barracks as ordered. The three Generals; Mike, McNulty and Soprano, the latter two having been promoted on the field after Vindargent. Knight-Commander Barris and Knight-Master Markham, of the Templars and Hospitallers respectively. The leaders of the mage factions, Armen, Velarana, Valle and Marable. Isewen came as chief of scouts. Leha, as quartermaster-general, naturally took her place by Julie's side. Briala and her Dalish protector had quietly managed to ingratiate themselves into the meeting too.

Tam and Ciara were absent, both leading hunting parties and trusting us to do the right thing.

I watched these great figures file into the room, when two in particular caught my eye. Louise de Villars was in her usual, chivalric manner, her uncle's silver skull mask enclosing the front of her head while blonde hair fell out its side. She stood out as the most elaborately dressed person in the room with a grey doublet and skirt, but even more so because of the lithe, similarly well-dressed blonde figure standing beside her maskless. I certainly hadn't met this person before, I thought.

As we gathered around the table, I was compelled to comment.

"Colonel de Villars, aren't you going to introduce us?" I asked jokingly, "This isn't a party, and I don't recall saying you could bring a plus one."

Blondie's mask glanced quickly to the woman beside her and back to me in the space of a single second, like she had forgotten that she had brought someone along. Or perhaps it had been entirely unintentional.

"C-certainly, my lord," she said uncertainly, "This is Lady Mariette de Villars, my cousin."

Mariette curtsied, pulling the edges of her grey skirt slightly up.

"I tried to kill you," she said, "Sorry."

It was my would-be assassin, in the flesh. Well, not quite, but I don't think anyone had ever tried to kill me in so... intimate a way as this woman had. The absurdity being too much, I burst into a fit of laughter, helped along by the obvious hand-wringing of Blondie.

"That's okay, you failed," I said, "Just don't try it again. I wouldn't want to shoot one of Louise's cousins."

"I don't have any problem with it," Julie added in good humour, "So don't even dream of trying it again."

Mariette curtsied again, having the dignity of at least seeming embarrassed. Louise reprimanded her cousin under her breath, which didn't seem to phase the woman in the slightest. But then, it wouldn't. She had charged a machinegun with nothing more than a dagger and a ...knife-shoe? I'm not quite sure what to call it.

Louise coughed, bringing attention back to her. "If it pleases the Marquise, may I?"

Julie waved her hand for Louise to continue.

"Four thousand, eight hundred and forty seven," Louise declared, "That is the number requesting discharge from the army."

I blew out a breath, not having expected so many to want to leave. It was about a quarter of our number under arms.

"Why so many?" I asked.

"Most of them want to keep fighting," Louise said, "Almost all of them are from outside the Hearthlands, and almost all of them are former men-at-arms. They think your dreams of founding a new city are fantasy born of desperation."

They weren't wrong, I suspect, but something in particular struck me as odd. "Does that mean most of them are men?" I asked, "I don't recall _that_ many women being formally under arms before we showed up."

"That's correct, my lord," Louise said, "There are a few women who wish to return home so that they can give birth, but that number does not reach more than fifty."

Markham spluttered with what could only be anger. "You mean we have thousands of pregnant women who wish to leave with us," he said, "And thousands of men who can't stomach the thought of leaving?"

"Yes," Louise answered.

The healer's eyes narrowed in anger.

"Perhaps you should consider disciplinary action," Markham said, addressing me, "Allowing them to abandon us with so many in such a state would be undignified at best, downright criminal at worst." The man was protective of his patients, to say the least.

I shook my head. "They fought for us," I said, "We lost. They have a right to go home or to continue the fight in their own way, if they want."

"We cannot hold them by force," Julie added, "Most of the remaining soldiers will not fight their brothers." I wasn't so sure of that. I'm sure the Peacekeepers would have happily cracked skulls for us, but that wasn't really their job.

Markham cursed the deserters, muttering about a lack of responsibility. I had to sympathise with that view to a certain extent, given the scale of the task ahead of us.

"If you're looking for a silver lining..." Louise said, interrupting the Hospitaller, "None of the original ten thousand wish to desert, meaning that none of those with firelance training will depart. Furthermore, the chevaliers wishing to leave have agreed to make their stand from my fief, and will join us if we do succeed in our … destiny. Along with all of my vassals who wish to come."

That was indeed good news. I might not have forced anyone who wanted to stay behind to fight, but I wasn't going to let go the firelancers under any circumstances. They knew too much.

"You'll move the entire population of your barony?" I asked.

"The civil war between Celene and Gaspard will last years," Louise said, "If I can save my vassals from that, I shall."

"Your sense of duty does you merit, Colonel," Julie said, "But this is not the reason why we called this council..."

There was an audible complaint from Soprano which drew my eye. Briala had began shouldering her way forward, and leaned on the table directly opposite Julie beside me. Soprano was displeased, something I could tell by the dagger she produced. I just managed to grab her arm before she threatened to plant it in Briala's back, all of which went relatively unnoticed.

"Give the deserters to me," Briala said, "If they wish to fight, I can give them that fight."

"What could you possibly do with only five thousand?" Leha asked.

"Bring down the Empire," Briala replied, without a drop of sarcasm, "I told the Marquis that he was fighting the war the wrong way weeks ago, he didn't listen. You lost because of that."

Half the meeting began shouting insults at her for that, which was touching but unnecessary. Julie stood up from her seat, which quieted everyone again immediately.

"The deserters wish to fight for Lord Clouet, I think," Julie said, "But if you can convince them, you can have them."

Briala nodded. Henri Clouet's determination to punish those responsible for his son's murder would have undoubtedly remained strong regardless of our surrender, and given that he'd now control the Emprise in our stead, he was in a strong position to continue resistance. I didn't think well of Briala's chances, but she'd go on to surprise us all on that note.

"Colonel de Villars, make the arrangements as soon as this council is ended," Julie added, before sitting down again. Louise saluted her compliance. Soprano grabbed Briala from behind, and using her greater mass, moved Celene's former lover to the back again. I worried that it would cause an argument, but apparently, Briala didn't want to screw with the heavily tattooed general. It would give me pause too, in fairness.

"We must talk about the route," Velarana said, "This matter of deserters is a distraction."

"Agreed," Armen said, "Going straight north from here would risk too much."

He seemed to know a great deal more about it than I thought he would.

"Why do you say that?" I asked.

"The Avvars," Armen replied, "I read much about them when I was in the Circle. They would prey on an army strung out on the march, that much is a certainty. Firelances and magic wouldn't save us either. They would strike at night, pick off sentries and descend on our camps while we slept."

"We fight them off every winter," Louise said, "My fief's towns are walled for good reason. If we travel through there, we will be forced to support my vassals or the supplies we need to travel through the hills will not be available."

I recognised that mode of war. "Like the Apache, defending their ancestral lands..." I said, nodding, "Well, shit. Here I thought hunger would be the big problem."

"Hunger is no small problem either," Leha said, "Losing five thousand to do their own thing helps us out, but it doesn't get us all the way to Amaranthine on full rations. Unless you want to slaughter some of the ponies?"

"No, we need every bit of mobility we can get," Julie said, "Can we return to Hearth and go north from there?"

"We'd run into Gaspard's troops eventually," Armen replied, "Not sure I want to see what his reaction to that would be."

"Agreed," I said.

"The only option is to get food as soon as we reach Ferelden," McNulty said, "Once we're across the border, we can forage or even raid to get what we need."

"Which will send the whole country into panic and rage," Julie sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose, "We need to avoid that for as long as possible."

A quiet fell as everyone thought to themselves, no one looking directly at another. It seemed that no one had any ideas. I certainly didn't have any that would not end up pissing the Fereldans off or delaying us. I was willing to bank on Gaspard being a little flexible with his timetable, but I wasn't sure that was a risk everyone else was willing to take.

Out of the blue, old lady Marable goes to Julie.

"Can I speak?" she asked, "I know I was included only as a courtesy. My mages have not participated in your war, but..."

I hadn't really thought of the Isolationists as not contributing, mostly because I valued them taking care of the magically capable children as far away from 'our' war as possible, but I was still pleased that she was taking a deferential tone. Though taking any other tone with Julie wasn't advised.

"Of course," Julie said, taking the woman's hand, "We're all brothers and sisters here."

"I certainly hope not," I quipped, thinking of what I intended to do with her later.

The tone was certainly enough for everyone else to get an idea too. My generals and colonels had a good laugh at that one. Julie sent a pained look at me for the joke. I held my hands up and indicated for Marable to continue, who took it in stride.

"There is another way into Ferelden," the Isolationist leader said, "It is more dangerous, but far less distance to travel."

Julie and I looked at each other, like we both seemed to be missing something obvious.

"What way is that?" Soprano asked.

"The Deep Roads," Marable said, "There is an entrance to them in the mines."

My mind stretched back to the conversation in Julie's family courtyard, about the Fifth Blight. Semi-sentient zombies with armour and swords, dragging women off to do I-don't-want-to-imagine, spreading their filthy disease... A threat great enough that even the bickering, primitive governments of Thedas conceded command to outsiders sharing the tainted blood of the enemy.

"The Deep Roads," I repeated flatly, "Where darkspawn live."

"Dwarva too," Leha said, weakly.

"As if that helps matters!" I snapped, before turning to Marable, "You didn't think an entrance to the Deep Roads was worth mentioning? That's a larger hole in our defences than the one I made the last time I was here!"

The elder mage was not phased, not withering under my stare entirely. There was a twitch of fear in her eyes. One that only an Outlander could provoke, I realised. That a person could wade through their magic unharmed brought fear to any mage. Worse, I had stood up and leaned forwards in a threatening manner, without meaning to. I sat back down quickly.

"My apologies," I said, controlling myself. That didn't have an effect.

"Sam takes the burden of our safety very seriously," Julie said, "Even more now that the children of Hearth now reside here." The hidden rebuke of her own against the omission of the not-so-little detail was far more effective than my loud outrage, yet her tone was calming and her explanation satisfactory to the Isolationist leader. That's why she was the leader, and I merely the general.

Marable seemed to unfreeze. "I did not mean to deceive you," she said, "But we are quite safe. The doors remain intact, including their enchanted seals."

"No better barricade," Armen agreed, "It would take weeks for the darkspawn to batter down enchanted doors, and we would definitely notice them doing it. Assuming they even knew we were here."

I remained sceptical, but having made an ass of myself, also remained silent. Armen was clearly the expert here, his boyhood interests providing him with all the knowledge we needed. I doubt he ever studied the Deep Roads with the expectation that he would one day be walking them.

"If I might ask..." Mike began, looking to Julie for permission.

"By all means," Julie smiled, giving a wave of the hand.

"There are thousands in our army and thousands from Hearth to follow it," Mike said, "Can we move fast enough through the Deep Roads? Assuming we can fight off the darkspawn."

That was a pretty big assumption in my book, but Mike never was one to shrink from a hard fight, considering she was the only one of my officers that had come from the enlisted ranks.

"They're the Deep _Roads_ ," Leha replied, "They're named that for a reason. They're in pretty bad shape and are covered with darkspawn taint, usually, but that's nothing you mages can't handle."

"I'm glad we have your confidence," said Velarana in a monotone, "But if we have to constantly stop to clear rubble or burn taint away, we _will_ die down there."

"If we even know the way," Julie said, before turning to Marable, "I presume you _do_ know the way, or else you would not have brought this to us?"

Marable nodded. "We thought the Templars would eventually find us," she said, "We conducted an expedition to find an escape route, after word of your defeat at Lydes came. It returned a week ago."

"Wise," Julie said, "Can we get to Ferelden?"

"It is perhaps five days travel," Marable said, "From here to an exit near the Fereldan town of Honnleath."

That was southwest Ferelden, I knew. The entire opposite end of the country to Amaranthine, which would have meant it was useless to us. Except that the Imperial Highway ran nearby. I imagined the same huge highway that ran between Halamshiral and Lydes with fondness. We'd have a freeway all the way to our objective, and we would have most of our supplies too.

"That would be perfect" I said, beginning to warm up to the idea at last, "Is that five days of smooth sailing or five days of pure hell?"

Marable's face curled in confusion at my idioms, not having the exposure to me that everyone else did. Probably didn't help that I directly translated my English-Common idioms directly into French-Orlesian, but ironically, many of them caught on regardless.

"The way was remarkably clear of obstacles," she replied, "Almost as if it had been cleared deliberately."

"Of course it was," Leha said, "The Fifth Blight began in southern Ferelden, and the darkspawn army had to get down there somehow. They moved thousands through the Deep Roads just as we'll be trying."

"So the main passages are definitely large enough for wagons?" I asked.

Leha gave the nod, and my enthusiasm built still further.

"What about the darkspawn themselves?" Julie asked.

Marable frowned, pushing a lock of grey hair out of her eyes.

"We encountered them," she said, "Our expedition used their magic to hide themselves. We are not warriors."

"I don't supposed you could do that again," I said, "With, say, thirty thousand people?" To say nothing of the thousands of pack animals.

Marable shook her head.

"How many," Julie said, "Enough to stop us?"

"Dozens," Marable replied.

"But where there are dozens, there are hundreds," Armen added, "Most of the darkspawn crowd about Orzammar, trying to breach its defences, while smaller parties look for exits to the surface to raid from. But if one darkspawn sees you, they all know you exist."

I felt a cold sensation in my gut at hearing that particular bit of information. It was certainly news to me, and it was a huge disadvantage for us if true. Instant communications about the presence of an enemy was a terrifying capability, particularly as Armen seemed to imply it was unaffected by distance.

Of course, it was in fact affected by distance, a darkspawn in Tevinter only feels a twitch in the back of its mind where one in Orlais would practically smell us in Ferelden.

The image of our people getting split up in the tunnels and annihilated came to me.

"Sounds more dangerous," I said, "Going north and then east overland isn't anything we can't handle. The Deep Roads aren't something we're familiar with."

"Yet we would be in Ferelden in a week," Julie mused, pursing her lips in thought.

I recognised her expression. It was one she wore when she was contemplating one of those things everyone else views as impossible.

"Julie..." I said, "It wouldn't be safe."

"We have no safe options any longer," Julie replied softly, "Either we spend months marching through the wilds, fighting Avvar, Lady Seryl's army and starvation, only to run into the Fereldan Royal Army at the border... or we take the route that no one will expect. Not even the darkspawn could see it coming, and we will be gone before they could get enough numbers to kill us."

Julie rose from her seat.

"I've made the decision," she said firmly, "We travel to Ferelden by the Deep Roads."

Our officers lowered their heads, acceding to the command. They knew that tone from Julie. There was no arguing with it. The only two people who could have disagreed were Tam and I. Tam wasn't present. I agreed with the argument for swift action, even if the substance of it was a huge risk.

"By your command, Marquise," Louise said, giving voice to entire war council's thought.

Mariette de Villars, used to seeing her cousin's side of the family command others, was in shock, her eyes going as wide as plates. Not least

"March through the Deep Roads?" she said, incredulous, "It's impossible."

I pat her on the shoulder. "Yeah," I sighed, "But the impossible is sorta our job."

The harlequin groaned. She had heard that line before, I could tell. She was in the Orlesian special forces, after all. The contrast of her cynicism with her cousin's aristocratic idealism was pretty amusing, and her standing rose in my books.

Julie smiled, her metaphorical mask slipping.

"Welcome to the Army of the Free," she said, "You're one of us now, a soldier of liberty."

Mariette groaned again, much more wearily. She was in way over her head.

* * *

That was that.

We had determined to enter Ferelden through the Deep Roads, the second invasion of that country using that method of travel in a decade. The Free Army, minus the deserters, plus the children growing in the bellies of our soldiers. The fisherfolk of Jader, made refugees twice now. The people of Hearth, new and old, by now world famous for their dedication to a political ideal.

Our people, landless and friendless, utterly determined to survive and prosper.

Word was spread through the Wolf's Lair in a regimented fashion. The officers told their lieutenants, who told NCOs, who told the rest. The message was carefully controlled, and the preparations began immediately. No one else joined the deserters. Everyone who had determined to stay before the decision was made had already known they would face dangers.

Besides that, Julie had spoken. That was the bottom line for many, and it bothered me slightly that personal loyalty mattered as much as it did. Bonaparte's ghost would undoubtedly laugh. Julie was now the only government we had. I guess that means Louis XIV would also laugh.

" _L'etat, c'est moi"_ is something Julie could very well have said at that moment, or indeed any moment afterwards.

Ms. Government herself was in good spirits when Tam and Ciara rejoined us to eat, as she always was when Claire showed up with her niece and nephew. The feelings she had on the subject of fostering Élodie's children had not dampened, but neither sister brought it up and all was well.

The meat from Hearth was bound to go off, and Tam's hunting trip had been very successful. Smoked pork and fresh halla is a great combination. Not something you get to eat everyday, even when you're in my position.

Claire and I exchanged very little words at first. Her greeting as she entered our tent sent guilt at me, running me through as deeply as a sword would. I bit it down and returned the greeting, unable to say anything more. Julie had forgiven what she called my false guilt over what had happened, and Claire herself had never indicated that she blamed me, but still.

Tam gave my hand a squeeze, my unease apparent enough to be noticed. It put me back in a good mood.

We sat down on the cushions on the floor and ate until we nearly burst, and lounged about talking about nothing of any importance for a while. Julie and Tam cooed and played with Victoire and Patrice.

The kids had grown in the six months or so since their birth to an astonishing degree. The Rivaini heritage in their soft brown faces was as obvious as Julie and Claire's own, and they even had the beginnings of Julie's soft spray of freckles across their noses. Their hair was coming out thicker too, in a dark brown. Julie's red-brown was from her own elven father.

Ciara kept nudging Armen with her elbow throughout. The mage's customary smirk disappeared, his eyes locked onto the kids.

Leha just sat and drank wine, regarding the whole scene with amusement. I joined her in that for the most part, and two drunken peas in a pod we were.

The evening wrapped up on an unexpected note. The kids had gotten fussy and Claire put them to rest in the basket she had brought with her. Once that was done, she sat down with us once more.

"I shall go, it is getting late... but before I do," Claire said out of the blue, "Sam, is it true that we will go by the Deep Roads?"

She was under the impression that it had been my idea, and that she was worried about it. I knew that would send Julie worrying. 'L'etat, c'est moi' had its downsides when what you did ruled over your own family's future in unexpected ways. I determined to spare Julie the role.

"We will," I said, "It is the fastest way into Ferelden, and from there, we'll go to Amaranthine. The Tevinters will organise a fleet to take us away."

Claire hummed as she thought about it.

"Could we die down there?" she asked.

"We could," I said, "But we could also die on other routes."

"The world is full of dangers," Tam added, "No matter which way we go."

"And if I stayed?" Claire asked, "Didn't go on this journey?"

"Gaspard is marching on Celene as we speak," I said, "He'll reach the walls of Halamshiral tomorrow or the day after. He will attack her forces. All Orlais will be dumped into a civil war. You will be no safer here than with us. And if Gaspard's vassals find out who you are, after he exiled us..."

Claire nodded to herself.

"Samuel Hunt," she said, getting up, "Take us to our new land safely, or I shall never forgive you."

My heart pounded in reply. I felt like she wasn't just speaking for her and her children any more. It was everyone in camp speaking to me. "I promise I will," I said.

With that, Claire came to me and gave me a hug. Relieved, and frankly honoured to have her trust despite all that had happened, I returned it warmly. After that, she went to Julie and gave her a kiss on the cheek, before retrieving the basket with her adoptive children. She left the tent with confidence.

"It is getting late," Julie said, turning to our friends, "I would like to turn in, and we need to speak privately." We meaning Tam and I.

Leha snorted. "Riiight, 'speaking' or 'sleeping' is what you're going to be doing," she said, tottering away towards the tent flaps. I rolled my eyes at her presumption. The Aurelia issue still had to be discussed, and we had been dodging around it, using official business as an excuse. Pretty good excuse if you ask me, not to mention welcome.

Armen offered his arm to Ciara, almost in jest, and she took it.

"Try not to tire yourselves out," our Dalish companion joked, "We'll probably be fighting darkspawn soon." Words she probably shouldn't have uttered, in retrospect, for multiple reasons...

I was a little ticked off as I watched them put their boots back on and exit the tent, whispering to each other and chuckling. Almost certainly at our expense, I thought at the time, but more likely taking example from what they thought we would be getting up to. Hollow complaint on my part, given how badly I did want to do exactly what they expected of us.

"You'd swear the only thing we ever did when we're alone was..." I began, before movement caught my peripheral vision.

Julie was throwing down the furs and blankets from the bedding chest onto the floor. The idle speculation of our friends about what we needed privacy for was not so incorrect after all.

"Ah," I said, "What about..."

"Later," Julie interrupted, "Right now, I need to rip the clothes off of you both."

I crossed the floor of the tent like my life depended on it. She began to do as she planned.

We fell onto the furs and blankets, and Julie knelt between us, her fingers removing our garments as she leaned over to kiss both of us. Once we were entirely naked, she pulled her shirt off in a single motion, grabbed the large blanket, and joined us on the furs, covering us from the approaching winter cold.

We made love for hours.

All three of us were finally spent, tired but buzzing from the pleasures we had just given to each other, laying naked together under the blanket. I felt myself drift off towards sleep, cocooned with the two women I loved. Red-brown and white-gold hair flowed over me, both of them laying their heads on a shoulder each.

There really is no better feeling than finding someone you can share this sort of moment with.

"I love you," Julie said suddenly, as if she could read my mind, "Both of you."

"We know," Tam replied with a grin, "You made that _clear_." Indeed she did.

I snickered, craning my head to plant a kiss on Tam's forehead for that one. She nuzzled me in response, biting my neck gently as her violet eyes looked across to Julie.

"So proud too," Julie continued softly, "Tam... your idea saved us..."

"Wish I had come up with it," I added cheerfully.

"It was Lana's idea," Tam insisted, half-joking.

"It was not," I said, "You got up and proposed it yourself. They listened to you."

"And they'll remember you for it," Julie said, sighing with satisfaction, "Forever, if we succeed."

" _When_ we succeed," Tam replied, "Besides, I could not have done it without Sam's... answer."

And there it was. We had finally got onto the topic we had done literally everything to avoid. One might have expected it to have killed the post-coital glow we were basking in, but I am pleased to report it did not. We just lay there for a few minutes together, sharing our body heat as the night began to get more chilly. A weight built up in my chest, until I could take it no longer.

"Listen..." I began, "About the marriage..." I stopped, not having thought out the rest.

Julie yawned and adjusted her position against me slightly. "We can avoid it," she proclaimed, "The ships will arrive, we'll take them, and the Tevinters won't be able to stop us."

Tam and I both looked at her.

"Tiberius is not an idiot," I said, "He'll take precautions."

"I know," Julie said sadly, "Just... let me believe my story for a little while..."

"Is there no way to stop it?" Tam asked.

"Not that I can see," I replied, "But we do have time to think of something."

"Three months..." Julie confirmed.

I started at that.

"You really think the ships will show up and I'll have to marry her in Amaranthine?" I asked, "In front of... unnecessary witnesses?" AKA the entire army...

"It's the only way he could be sure of getting what he wants," Tam agreed, "It's going to be … hard for me."

"We know," I said, "I just couldn't see any way. I'm sorry."

Tam ran her hand through my hair, closing her eyes. She forgave me. It was Tiberius who would have the trouble. Tiberius _and_ Aurelia.

"It's hardly going to be easy for me either," Julie complained softly, "They want you to make babies with her... but I can stomach it, if it helps save our people. It won't change the way I feel about you. It's not like you want _her_."

Tam growled her agreement.

I sighed once more. "What is it lately with children," I mused, "First, half the army gets knocked up, second, Tiberius finally gets his way, and we just got done with Victoire and Patrice... Even the mage children causing trouble with those from Hearth, I can't seem to get away from them lately."

"Maybe the Maker is speaking to us," Julie smiled, "Tonight was... dangerous for me."

"It's … possible for me too," Tam said.

I didn't catch their meaning exactly, my eyes scanning the ceiling for a few moments as I pondered it, but it didn't take long. And somehow, I was perfectly okay with the implication.

"Well, if it happens, it happens," I said finally.

Tam drew closer. It was her wish to be a mother, after all. Just not so soon. Julie didn't move for quite a while either. I can only imagine what her thoughts were. Regardless, we all fell into a deep sleep soon afterwards, cutting off any deeper discussion on the matter, or about the marriage.

Of course, it wouldn't happen so soon. It happened at a far more inconvenient time. For the moment, the task of leading a people to a new land, to form a new nation, lay ahead of us. The personal challenges it would bring, we could handle them. We knew it then as well as we do now.

We were family.

* * *

 _AUTHOR'S NOTE: Originally, the decision to go into the Deep Roads was meant to be the first third of the chapter dealing with it, but the whole thing ballooned as I realised more needed to be addressed. So, this._

 _I'll be adding a few more polling options for Outlanders too, check that out on my profile!_

 _The next chapter will be entitled "Darkspawn" as you could have probably guessed._

 _Thanks for reading!_

 _ **Katkiller-V:** Yeah, the Blight's pretty much why I assigned the grimdark personality to the Warden. Things needed to be done. Hawke could have gone either way, snarky or noblebright, but given that Hawke in this story will be a she, I decided against some moralistic version of her in favour of someone more fun. _

_I hope this clarifies Sam's reasoning about why he agreed... And why his companions_

 _ **Stormtide Leviathan:** Yes, sir!_

 _ **5 Coloured Walker:** Cheers once again._

 _ **Okiro Benihime:** Well, the surrender did throw a lot of people off. _

_**ArytomXIII:** I hope your feels are thorough restored._

 _ **OBSERVER01:** Yeah, Lana hasn't heard the real version of the Aeneid. Tam adapted it for kids' consumption. _

_The system of government will be more... interesting than the one in my BF2183 story._

 _ **Stuilly:** Frankly, I can't wait to write the interactions between Sam and other main characters. Ferelden's going to have a bunch of them, and it'll only be more from there. _

_Hawke's going to be fun._

 _ **Charlie019:** Smart man._

 _Every nation in Thedas has indeed heard of what has happened in Orlais._

 _What the Free Marchers' or Rivaini reaction will be, I shall leave to the chapters covering that, but you're not wrong in your points. The Marchers can challenge Orlesian or Nevarran power when they combine together, though in this stage of the timeline, Starkhaven is the strongest of the Marcher states and is currently embroiled in occupying Kirkwall. Rivain is close to the Qun, though the Antivans likely wouldn't care, it wasn't the Antivans who hired the Crows to interfere in Free Orlais._

 _As for the Templars, there are many of them and they are professional soldiers, but they do not generally fight as an army. The Free Army is too large for them to take on alone, but it isn't like there's a shortage of faithful people out there to bolster them..._


	39. Chapter 39: Darkspawn

**Chapter Thirty-Nine: Darkspawn**

The next lesson that Thedas taught me is that fortune favours the bold.

Something that is often said, on Thedas as well as Earth, but not well understood. Yet it is certainly not heeded, especially by the masses. Well, the masses outside of our little corner of the world. By the time began our journey to Ferelden, we had learned the truth of the old saying already, but my confidence in it had been fatally damaged by our failure at Lydes. Julie's confidence in it had not been.

That no one was expecting us to travel by the Deep Roads is a given. Gaspard certainly didn't envisage it, he intended us to do battle with Celene's forces on our way out the door. Tiberius did too, albeit in a way that would minimise our exposure. The Kingdom of Ferelden itself would learn of our exile just about the time we exited the Deep Roads, and could conceive of only two ways an Orlesian invasion could arrive; by sea or by the mountain pass south of Jader. It would be a whole week before they knew there would be no geographic obstacle they could use as a wall to block us.

The reason no one expected us to come by the Deep Roads is simple. It is incredibly dangerous, perhaps the most hostile environment on Thedas save for the bottom of the oceans. There are any number of things that can kill, all of which we were prepared for by simple virtue of the fact that we didn't hate mages.

But there is one threat down there, under the ground, that only the brave and fortunate can face down. One unavoidable, sentient, lethal threat.

Darkspawn.

* * *

Tam, Julie and I slept naked until morning, cleaned ourselves up a little, and proceeded to ruin that effort by falling into the furs and making love again. We were going into the Underworld, perhaps even that very day, so of course we did. The potential and natural consequences were not something we were afraid of, though as I have said, they did not arise. This time.

So we snoozed for another hour, as similarly entangled as we were the night previous with the difference that Tam was now the body pillow instead of me. Until there was a drumbeat going up, sounding armed assembly. It was the most irritating thing in the world to me, lying there with my head on... never you mind.

We hadn't drank anything stronger watered down ale, pretty much the only thing you could drink other than water in those days without getting tipsy at the very least. Yet the drums sounded like a twenty one gun salute in my skull.

"Balls," I said, "Something's up..."

I rose slightly and opened my eyes, finding the tent as dark as you'd expect. The drums didn't go away. I wasn't imagining it.

Tam softly pulled me back down, tutting. "Ignore it," she said, "If it was serious, they would come get you..."

"If it was serious," Julie mumbled, barely opening a single eye, "We would be hearing cannon fire, not drums."

I hummed my agreement with that, brushing my hand down Julie's back under the blankets. For pointing out a perfectly good reason for me to stay put. She let out an appreciative noise, before seeming to drift away again. I felt my mind getting heavy too, and closed my eyes.

Just in time for a flash of bright white light to half-blind me, even through my eyelids.

I opened them to find Ciara standing by the entrance, a smile on her face. At first I thought it was at our expense, but she wasn't even looking at us at first. Of course, the smile did grow when she did finally look for us. No doubt a comment was forthcoming, so I pre-empted her.

"Morning, Ciara," I said evenly, "Have a good night?"

The Dalish huntress' eyes ran over us for a moment. "At least as good as yours," she replied cheerfully in her lyrical accent.

I closed my eyes again and held up my finger. "Ah ha!" I said, "You may have had a good night, but I'm sure we had a better morning."

The sounds of Ciara kicking off her boots and padding over to us provided a strange cover for the drumming that was divine relief, but she stopped moving again.

"What does she want," Julie mumbled.

"Don't care," Tam replied, "Just make her go away."

Ciara giggled. "You have an army to lead, you know?" she said, "What would they think if they could see you now?"

We didn't deem that worthy of a response, and I pulled the furs on top of us further up, trying to protect myself from both Ciara's wit and the drumming, which still hadn't stopped. I moved my head so I could listen to a far more pleasant beat, that of Tam's heart.

"Anyway," Ciara continued, "The generals didn't want you to be told, but the deserters are just about to leave."

I felt both of my lovers jerk awake at that, one following another.

I looked and saw that it was Julie that had caused the effect, with Tam moving only as she had. Julie's green eyes were wide. Ciara had her full attention now.

"Just about to leave?" she asked, "We haven't given them permission to do anything of the kind."

"Yet," Tam added.

I groaned. The insouciance of the deserters was grating my nerves, particularly as Markham's point about them abandoning civilians in a dire time of need had stirred in my mind overnight.

"Don't think they care," Ciara said, "They're about to march out now."

"Are they?" Julie said, her anger rising in her tone, "March out, you say. By the Maker, they better run!"

Julie rose, still naked as the day she was born, taking the fur that had been on top of us with her. The cold hit Tam and I hard, as we lost both the protection on our lower bodies and the body heat of a person from our upper. I rolled onto my back with a sigh, as Julie wrapped the fur around her like a Tevene toga. There wasn't quite enough bearskin material to cover her entirely, leaving one half of her upper body exposed, but she didn't seem to care. Neither did I.

With remarkable predictability, my mind turned to sex again. It provided her convenient cover to pick up the assault firelance propped up against the table and exit the tent, before my mind could put what I was seeing in context. She let out cry of shock from the outside. Ciara followed quickly, having been delayed in slipping her boots on again. Neither the cry nor what she might do with a god damned SA80 gave me happy thoughts. Or maybe I was feeling possessive. Either way, it wouldn't do.

"That's not good," I muttered, "Get dressed."

I jumped out of the fur-and-blanket pit in the middle of the tent, stepped into my pants and pulled them up post-haste. Tam got up without a word and did the same, as I pulled on a shirt and jacket.

The sound of shouting came through the tent flap, followed by the crack of a single shot echoing off the mountain. Julie wasn't wasting any time. I rushed, not tying my boots up, and out through the flaps.

First thing I noticed was that it had snowed during the night, not a huge amount but enough to stick. Certainly enough to bother Julie, who had exited barefoot without checking. That explained the cry as she left, I thought.

Julie was standing in front of what must have been all the deserters, except for Louise's chevaliers, and just as many loyal troops. Including most of the command staff. The former were fully armed and carrying their packs. Needless to say, they were all astonished to see her, bare-breasted and carrying a deadly weapon. A mostly-dressed Tam moved forwards, about to try to prevent her shooting again, when something extremely astonishing happened.

Our loyal troops averted their eyes, and made reverences to Julie. Some even knelt.

Very interesting.

"Go!" Julie shouted, "Now!"

The deserters snapped out of their staring, and began moving off.

Julie let off a three bullet burst into the air.

"I said run!" Julie roared.

They began moving off far more swiftly. I snorted, their obedience somehow absurd in the face of their betrayal. They filed their way towards the gates of the first ring of earthworks at a quick march. Julie balanced her firelance on one hip and put her free hand on the other, glaring at them as they passed.

"That's right," she muttered aloud, "Get out of my sight." She slung the firelance at last, noticing our presence.

"Feel better?" Tam asked. She threw down our lover's Earth boots.

Julie slipped them on, rubbing her hands together with her elbows firmly tucked in.

"Cold but much better, yes," she replied, "If I see these bastards again, I swear I shall have them killed."

I scratched my head, discovering that my hair was in need of cutting, and so was a complete mess. Yet Julie's was a little damp.

Realising that she wouldn't be saved by boots alone, I slipped my jacket off and put it around shoulders. I got a smile for my trouble, before the glare resumed its course towards the deserters. I'm not sure why that set me thinking about my next question, but it did.

"Why do you care?" I asked, "You seemed fine in the war council when we talked about this."

Julie bit her lip and looked up at me, almost sheepishly.

"Something occurred to me this morning," she said, "A third of women are with child, and it is certain that some of the children have fathers that are now abandoning them. To say nothing of abandoning their mothers too. Abandoning them to the Deep Roads, to the mercy of Ferelden, to the risk of founding a new nation. They're going to have to face it all alone."

"Which explains why you were frowning to yourself when I woke. You got angry," Tam said, "Understandable, but the mothers and their children are not alone. They have us."

Count on Tam to declare herself surrogate to hundreds, maybe even thousands. My desire to let the deserters go suddenly reversed itself. The wish to inflict violence on them burned my throat like bile, making me feel thirst, yet was softened by Tam's example of compassion.

"I hadn't thought of it that way.." I said, "Markham was right. If some of them are the fathers..."

"I think he thought of it that way from the beginning," Julie nodded, before looking at Tam and I.

"I think I needed to be with the people I love," she added, "Last night, I mean. And that made me think of my poor soldiers, left behind..."

Which is why Claire stayed for as long as she did, why she brought the children, and why we had spent most of the time afterwards either bringing each other pleasure or sleeping soundly in each other's arms. Or at least, the immediate reason. The latest brick in a wall of disasters, building ever higher.

The crunch of snow alerted me to the presence of McNulty and Soprano approaching from the side. They both stopped and saluted, and I saluted back.

"Marquis, Marquise, the deserters broke into the larders this morning," McNulty said, "Most had already gathered here while it was happening, so they could make a quick escape."

"Not very stealthy of them, considering our tents are here," Julie said, eyeing the last battalion as it rushed away. Assembling in front of us was probably their intent, daring us to try and stop them so that we'd be forced to discharge them earlier than we had planned.

"How much did they take?" I asked.

"Not enough to bother us," Soprano responded, "We always intended to issue them with rations to get south to Lord Clouet's fief. They took only slightly more than we were going to give them. They didn't take any horses either."

"Except for the ones the chevaliers took," McNulty complained.

"They were the property of the chevaliers to begin with," Soprano countered, "They did not desert either. Colonel de Villars issued their discharge papers and made Ser Belvédar regent of her lands. Not to mention, the women who wished to stay for... birthing reasons needed the help. The chevaliers offered their steeds."

Louise de Villar's old fief would become a sanctuary of sorts, albeit a temporary one with an Avvar problem. Chivalry wasn't dead among her vassals.

"So the chevaliers rode north already," I sighed, "I wish them all the luck in the world, I guess." I thought they would need it. They might not be in the direct path of any large armies, but _les-Grandes-Collines_ were still in a country that was by then in a state of civil war.

"Lady Briala also left last night," Soprano said.

I shrugged. Apparently, Briala hadn't been able to convince many of the deserters to join her. I didn't think she was going to be able to in the first place, at least not that quickly. She hadn't proved herself yet.

"So be it," I said, "Call the war council in two hours... let's do what needs to be done and get the hell out of here."

"Yes, my lord," said McNulty and Soprano together.

They did not go off at once. Which was strange. Usually, they'd be making their way without delay to carry out my orders. I raised an eyebrow in inquiry. Soprano made no sign, but McNulty flinched ever so slightly.

The last deserter finally exited the outer gate and out of sight, and Julie bolted, stalking off towards our tent once more, trying to keep my jacket and the fur around her. Tam followed, and I watched them until they entered, waiting for my chance to speak to the McNulty and Soprano. Ciara briefly stopped me by making a reappearance with some more salted pork, but as soon as I had some, I rounded on them.

"Is there something you two need to say?" I asked the two hovering generals.

"Yes, my lord," Soprano said flatly, "Your... wife commands now. Your mistress has set us on the new path... We wanted you to know that _our_ first loyalty is and always will be with you."

"And not her," McNulty added. Reluctantly, as far as McNulty ever did reluctance.

I shook my head, utterly flabbergasted. They made it seem like there was a conflict between my lovers and I. An obscenity really. What divisions we had up until that point were thoroughly healed. More importantly, it was entirely out of character for the two officers to speak openly about such matters to me. They knew that the principle Julie, Tam and I believed in about how to run things was the same. Or at least, it was supposed to be. I was a little pissed off about it, until my train of thought was interrupted.

"Should I leave you alone?" Ciara asked quietly, "If you think I'd be in the way..."

That cheered me up again. I brought her into a quick hug, lifting her off her feet. Ciara let out a little surprised shriek, as I had a good chuckle.

"You're always welcome," I replied at last, "Don't forget that. But that you cared enough to ask is encouraging."

Ciara looked up at me in confusion, not quite understanding me. Regardless, she had saved me from saying something I might regret.

"Generals... I don't think I get what you're saying," I said, "Why should I wonder where your loyalties are?"

"You shouldn't" McNulty replied quickly, "That's what we wanted to say... because... well..."

"Because the respect of the civilians for your wife is turning into worship," Soprano interrupted, her tone as cool as the ice under our feet, "Your mistress too is the subject of much praise. Some of us have become... concerned."

Now we were in the Twilight Zone, as far as what my perception of things went.

"Concerned about what?" I asked.

"That she has begun to enjoy power," Soprano said, "That she has forgotten the ideals for which we fought, and that the Assembly's treacherous surrender has damaged her confidence in _the people_ to make responsible decisions."

My eyes widened to the point that they began watering in the cold.

"You think she's going to seize power permanently," I said, "You think she had Tam propose the idea to create a new realm so that she could rule alone."

"And we know you would never let such a thing come to pass," Soprano said, "The ideals we fought for are truly yours, you were raised with them, you cannot disrespect them." That was a very optimistic view generally, respect for democracy was at an all time low in America when I had left, but it was true of me.

"Like Mother Brandon said, after the murders," McNulty added, reluctantly, "We want rule of the people, by the people, for the people. One nation under the Maker. We think you're the one who can give us it. The only one."

Of course the two generals were worried. The project of rule by the people had just been delivered a hammer blow. All it would take to snuff it out would be a call for unity around the one figure who everyone agreed was most capable of ruling; Julie herself. Our relationship with Tam, the saviour of the cause, only strengthened the narrative of divinely-sent messiahs.

The undertone that maybe I should be the one to seize power was more than a little unsettling too.

"Look, you're being... insane," I said, "She blamed herself as much as anyone else for the surrender, and Tam really did come up with the idea."

"Insane is too soft a word," Ciara bristled, "Julie is not some noble, plotting the best way to gain power for herself. She's a blacksmith's daughter at heart, not a scheming _aristo_. You ought to be ashamed of thinking anything else."

I grinned at Ciara for her input. Succinct and pinpoint accurate.

"You've heard the way people speak about her already," Soprano said to Ciara, "If she wanted a crown, she could have one."

"But she doesn't want one, so it doesn't matter," I said, "We've discussed what she wants to do, once we have final victory. Ruling isn't it, at least as long as we have the freedom we're fighting for. Besides, I have just as much respect among the people as Julie does. It's not like she could do anything without my open support."

Both of them seemed to accept that, glancing at each other. I had just pretty much said that I would stop Julie becoming a dictator, without _outright_ saying so. With their fears assuaged, they saluted once more. McNulty immediately paced away to put out the order for another war council. Soprano lingered for a moment, adding a small bow to me. She approved of my promise. She would hold me to it. That was the message.

Ciara and I regarded them as the two generals' subordinates joined them, walking towards the still-ruined gatehouse of the old walls.

" _If_ she did want to rule," Ciara asked, "Would you stop her? Could you stop her? She's very... determined, when she gets an idea in her head."

"You don't have to tell me," I laughed, my mind reaching back to the moment in the foxhole on the hill.

Once my lustful thoughts subsided a little, I considered the question a little more seriously for a moment. The great irony was that Julie's confidence in the people hadn't been shaken an inch by the surrender, but mine had been greatly. The ideas held about society among the peasantry were just too... primitive. Most of those born outside Hearth were illiterate, and it was only through military and religious indoctrination that the likes of Soprano and McNulty were so insistent on ruling themselves.

Most people only ever want a fair ruler. My lovers would be fair rulers.

Besides that, Julie held my heart in her hand, and Tam would back her regardless. All it would take was a single squeeze to get me to fall into line, unless she broke it in some manner. But I could hardly tell Ciara exactly what I would do. It seemed like an impossibility to begin with, but as with many impossible things, Julie could very well defy the odds.

"I don't know, actually," I said honestly, "I guess I would do what I could..."

Ciara tilted her head, not thinking much of that answer.

A cry from the sky had us both looking up. The eagles were there, circling. One silver headed, one fully golden-brown. Fucking ominous.

* * *

It took three days to organise our army for the journey through the Deep Roads, by which time our outriders had spotted a force of about five hundred Templars coming in on foot towards us. Luckily, they weren't mounted, so we were able to set out before they got anywhere near the Wolf's Lair. They would not suspect we escaped the way we did any more than King Alistair and Queen Anora would.

From front to back, the column was organised to protect the essential groups of wagons and people, all tuned to the same time via the synchronised watches I handed out to each section commander. Children, cannon, ammunition and food stores, and the pregnant women.

The first troops in were Soprano's Rangers, bolstered in number to a thousand strong and entirely made up of firelancers. With them went the Isolationist mages to point the way, burn away the filth in our path, and to seal off side tunnels as they moved. Following directly behind were the Aequitarian and their knight-enchanters and Tranquil gunners with three light cannons. Together, I was sure that all four could break through any darkspawn barricade.

Behind the speartip element was most of the melee infantry under Mike, carrying as much as they could on their backs, clearing obstacles, and acting as a reserve for the forward troops if things got worse than even I could imagine. Their main job wasn't to fight, but to transport the various things we didn't have space in a wagon for. Leha's accounts ledgers were carried by a sergeant of the 7th Infantry that she was screwing, for instance. Think she still screws him from time to time, actually.

The largest single part came next, making up the middle of our column: the civilians. Most of the wagons and almost all of the horses were put into this part too. Anyone not formally under arms was assigned here, and where this section stood was always to be our rally point.

The civvie section was under Louise de Villars' command, and it was perhaps the best protected of all. Three thousand firelancers, including the thousand or so that were with child, Markhams' Knights-Hospitaller, Barris' Templars, the Lucrosian mages, and most of the Tranquil artillery batteries. The Jaderites also armed themselves, though we considered them civvies for our purposes. More on that later.

At the rear of the column were McNulty's Grenadiers, also boosted to a thousand strong by the inclusion of the remaining firelancers and a three-gun battery of light cannon. The Libertarian mages under Armen gave the rearguard all the magic we would need, and I myself positioned myself with them. My companions with me.

Our job was to hold the darkspawn back at all costs, because our army could not withdraw. It could only move forwards. That was why most of our troops were concentrated forwards. We needed to advance, or we would die. Orzammar, around which the bulk of darkspawn would be concentrated, was to the north, at our backs.

Some people, knowing the story but not knowing the specifics, are critical of me for not 'boldly leading the way' and other things along that line. I don't enjoy being accused of cowardice for taking the most dangerous position, apparently a popular subject for propagandists against our enterprise.

Don't fight with "honour" and you earn stupid remarks from those who don't really know what war is.

As a result of this arrangement, I was one of the last of our little nation to see the Deep Roads. I said goodbye to our two eagles, and entered the mines.

I was expecting a series of interconnected caverns, joined by worked tunnels. What I saw instead was far more magnificent. It was not so much a cave but a cathedral, albeit one in disrepair, stretching forwards for miles.

Although the natural, unfinished rock leaked through in places, I could not help but feel like the whole thing was engineered. It was easily as wide in some places as the Imperial Highway had been between Halamshiral and Lydes. Pretty much everyone had the same, gawping reaction to it, except for Leha of course.

The ghosts of the Dwarva Empire would no doubt appreciate our awe.

It took us most of the first day to get the army into the mines and seal the enchanted doors behind us again, but we spent the remaining time on the march. We only got to rest after ten hours, including four of moving _uphill_ in the Deep Roads, defying their very name _._ The architecture of the place got even more impressive, as we appeared to have travelled to some sort of upper gallery, nestled nearer the peaks of the mountains.

There were even openings in the rock, long but too narrow for a person to crawl through, leading to huge drops. The snows were in full swing this far up, and it blew in with the chill wind. In the end, we covered the gaps up so we wouldn't need to waste valuable wood on extra fires.

As ordered, the march at the front ended at 1900 hours and the rest of the army caught up with the forward elements by 1930. There was no sign of darkspawn, very little taint to worry about, and we all slept soundly.

Well, the humans. The pack animals and horses weren't best pleased to be underground, but we had enough mages to calm the worst of them. Bellona was a rock, of course, not bothered by the lack of sky and the darkness that came with it. Revas, easily the most intelligent of our mounts, was much more distraught. Fritz only seemed to be bothered if there was no artificial light nearby, like most of our travellers. I thought it noteworthy that even horses knew that the dark wasn't to be trusted. Especially in that place.

The Upper Gallery, as we took to calling it, was to be our route for the next three days, the last day to be spent descending once more.

The second day was very easy going. The freezing mountain air leaking in through the slit windows had kept the taint at bay, and we were ahead of schedule according to the report Soprano radioed to me that evening. Even better, the evidence that a huge clearing operation had taken place on this route beforehand was everywhere; fallen stalactites lay stacked to the sides.

Piles of bones of some small creatures were also commonplace, which Armen reliably informed me were deepstalker remains. Which led to a quip that Leha was a deepstalker, a scavenger looking for her meat. She moved closer, opened her mouth and snapped her jaw shut at him. They had a good laugh afterwards. We'd discover the reason why Leha didn't take the whole thing as an insult soon afterwards.

The good times could not last long, however. The acoustics of a mountain hall are not amenable to stealth. The sound of thirty thousand people and thousands of horses on the move was utterly impossible to cover, and that night after the halt, it was our turn to hear the echoes of moving feet in the deeps.

We slept a whole lot less that night, let me tell you.

The third day, our second in the Upper Gallery, saw a much more energetic pace set. We beat our previous day's distance by a quarter at least, though we were utterly exhausted by the end. Worse, we had reached the end of the sections with ventilation, and our pace for the next day was guaranteed to slow due to the necessity of purging the Taint from our route with magical fire.

Even before Mike had me fetched, the night was not full of good omens and there were worse ones to come.

* * *

The side passage I had been summoned to was in Mike's own section, so it took me a good while to get down there. Particularly as the only light we had now was torches or the glow of magic. It was fairly easy to find the place once I had a clear line of sight though, as it was guarded rather than blocked off with debris. That certainly got my attention, because it was in direct contravention to the orders I had given. I picked up the pace, eager to discover why my orders hadn't been followed.

It didn't take long for the booming voice of Mike herself to make itself felt, joined by Grand-Cleric Brandon's haughty timbre as I got closer. I entered, saluting the guards as I passed. It was a small room, and from the look of it, it was some sort of guardhouse or supply post. There were tables, chairs, the remains of bed frames, and the whole room glowing red-orange from the glowstones in the wall. There seemed to be corpses too, mostly bones dressed in rags really.

As for occupants, they consisted of Soprano, looking surly, Mike, looking frustrated, and Brandon, looking dismissive. All three relaxed as they noticed me, trying to hide their conflict as if I were their father and they were fighting over a toy.

"Ah, Marquis," Brandon said, beating my generals to the punch, "I'm glad you're here. You need to stop your officers from spreading foul rumours."

I smiled at her, borrowing from Julie's book of politics rather than Tam's for the moment. The priestess relaxed a little, as planned.

"I can see that," I said, "Now, that's the trouble?"

"My lord, we've found something," Mike started.

"Don't go filling his head with nonsense!" Brandon interrupted, "What you're saying is impossible."

"You don't know that," Mike snapped, "I don't know it either. Just let him look and he'll tell us."

The two squared off, robe almost touching uniform. It was almost funny, considering they were both small women. Albeit with big personalities. Not wanting to step into the explosive space between them, I turned to Soprano.

"What's this about?" I asked. Brandon made a noise to interrupt again, but I held up my hand and shot her a look that told her she was about to cross a line. Her mouth snapped shut again. Tam's stern doctrine on dispute resolution was just as useful, as you can see.

"My soldiers found something when we arrived," Soprano said, "An unusual set of bodies."

"Those ones?" I said, pointing at the bones.

"Yes, my lord," Soprano said.

I glanced at Brandon. "What's your objection?" I asked, "Don't want me disturbing the dead?"

"That is a consideration," Brandon conceded, "But more offensive is the theory that..."

"Stop right there," Mike interrupted, "Let him see them without knowing what I said."

"You just want to test your theory," Brandon complained.

The whole congo-line of argument and interruption that had begun its dance towards me finally broke my patience. I cleared my throat loudly. Mike stood up parade-ground straight at once, respectful of rank and military order as she always was. Brandon grumbled to herself, which was a bit unseemly on a woman who was the same age I was.

"I'll decide what is interesting to me," I stated firmly, "If you don't mind."

"Not at all, my lord," Mike said, her tone victorious. Brandon remained quiet, taking to watching me carefully instead.

With the expectations of my generals and our highest religious leader hanging on my shoulders, I wandered over to the bodies.

There were six or seven of them, clustered in one corner behind what had to have been bed frames. From the way it was arranged, it seemed like they had barred the door and used the beds as a final barrier. Whatever they had been fighting hadn't got in, I saw no bodies that were dressed differently. All of them were wearing a tabard over some armour, some of them in chainmail as far as I could tell from the rust. Nothing strange about them at all.

"What's so unusual about..." I said, before stopping dead. I realised that I recognised the sigils on the tabards.

Three golden lions on a red field, each holding a paw up, their heads turned towards the viewer with their mouths open. Quite obviously lions too, no way to confuse them with the mabari of the Theirins of Ferelden, though I had yet to see their banners. No wonder Soprano and Mike had found it noteworthy. The sigil was displayed in at least one of the history books in our Earth collection, which they had access to after the Templar assault on L'Ambassade.

"See, nothing unusual at all," Brandon said, "Just some poor souls, lost in the Deep Roads."

A strange dread fell over me like a veil over my eyes, making it seem darker. I was compelled to kneel down beside the bones and examine the bodies more closely. One of them was smaller than the others, it had to have been a boy or a young teenager. What was left of their swords matched my limited knowledge too.

I stood up again, rubbing the bridge of my nose as I thought.

"They're from Earth," I said, turning back to the living in the room, "England, to be exact. I'd recognise the three lions anywhere." Having no small amount of English heritage myself.

Brandon dropped into a coughing fit of outrage, denying the possibility outright.

"I knew it," Mike grinned, "As soon as Lydia showed me, I knew."

"I was not so sure myself," Soprano sniffed, crossing her arms and leaning over to look at the bodies a little closer.

"It's impossible!" Brandon declared, "If the Maker brought you, how could he bring these people here too? And to this fate?"

I frowned, not sure how to answer that myself. The process of how the Outlander Phenomenon began was known to me, but its exact workings were a mystery. If anything, the dead men were soldiers from eight hundred years ago or so, but their belongings and clothing hadn't rotted away.

That was a contradiction to the timeline established by Tiberius' ancestor, as well as that of Keijiro Okuba and myself. Tiberius came two thousand years previously, which fit with how long ago he would have lived when I left. Similarly, Keijiro Okuba came seventy odd years ago, which was when his country was at war with mine. All of our arrivals suggested that time moved in the same way on both worlds, yet this discovery said otherwise. Regardless of what was responsible, time was bent in some instances and not others.

As for Brandon, I decided to tell her the truth as far as I thought it wouldn't harm our cause. After all, I still couldn't deny divine intervention on the matter. I simply didn't know.

"I was far from the first person brought to Thedas, Grand-Cleric," I said, "The Tevinter informed me that there have been many... and that even his ancestor was someone like me, dragged to this world."

Brandon's face lost its colour instantly, the milk-white of her skin seeming to glow more orange from the unnatural light. I knew that revealing that piece of truth would send her hopping. I had a ready riposte.

"But do you know what that man's first act was?" I continued, placing my hands on her shoulders, "Putting blood mages to the sword for daring to try to breach the Fade. We are here for a reason."

Or more accurately, Tiberius Primus put the blood mages to the sword for practising sorcery at all. If Aurelia is to be believed.

The Grand-Cleric's seemed caught between her feelings, but finally managed to speak.

"What about these ones?" she asked, "What possible purpose could they have served, dying here?"

Her faith that I was sent by the Maker was wavering, but had not fallen. Ideally, I would have liked to break it... but I could hear Julie's whisper in my ear already.

'Think of the politics' she would have said, if she had come along. She had opted to go to sleep, and I didn't think I had the luxury to do something so obviously damaging to our cause without her consent. As for Tam, before she had set us on this path, she probably would have preferred to break the idea too, given the notion of some that she was unworthy to be around me. That notion had been destroyed by her contribution and the desertion of doubters. Her stake in it had been too.

"Perhaps they killed a dangerous darkspawn," I said with a shrug, "Or undid some darkspawn magic. We can't know. We weren't here when they died. All I know is that the events I have lived through seem to have happened for a reason. I think, you would agree?"

Brandon gave a single nod. "Through inspiring Julie Marteau and facing the wrath of mages," she said, "You have shown the world its corruption and decadence."

Remembering the conversation from before, I raised an eyebrow at Soprano. 'Through inspiring Julie Marteau' the cleric had said. The generals looked back, Soprano's face screaming "I told you so" at me. I tilted my head, conceding their concerns had some merit beyond that I had already thought of.

"Our worlds have the same Maker," I said, "It's the only explanation for why people from mine end up here."

"It is," Brandon said, "But this development will raise doubts."

"Then I'll order the mages to try and kill me again," I said, flippantly. The Grand-Cleric actually smirked at that. She had a sense of humour after all. Who knew.

I turned once more to Soprano.

"Get Markham up here," I ordered, "I want examinations of these bodies, I want to know how they died, and I want them transported with us out of this place."

"For what purpose?" Soprano asked.

"Curiosity," I replied, moving to leave, "And they deserve a proper burial."

"A burial?" Brandon asked in confusion, "Surely they should be burned?"

I stopped at the doorway and smiled back at her.

"We are _Outlanders_ , Grand-Cleric, immune to all inference by Fade creatures," I said, "Our bodies cannot be possessed. These men would have wanted burial. If I die, you can burn me, I have embraced Andraste. These men have not. We'll respect that they follow my old faith.."

Or a type of it, at any rate. Truth be told, I didn't know what to believe and that has only gotten worse over the years as a result of... disturbing developments, but I knew one thing. Cremation was off the table for the dead men in that room.

With that, I exited, avoiding any further complaint by the priestess, and began the long walk back to my sleeping bag.

I told a sleepy Julie and a slightly more awake Tam about the discovery and what I had done about it, but all of us were too tired for speaking or anything else. We turned in for the night, knowing we'd have bigger fish to fry than the dead men from another world.

* * *

The darkspawn showed themselves throughout the next day without relent.

At first, they tried to force the sealed side passages, pushing the debris the Isolationists had used to block them out into the road. I felt the now-familiar creep of dread inch up my back at the news.

Fortunately for us, that was quite possibly the least effective means they could have attacked us, and their attempt to be cunning cost them dearly. The first attacks came out against Mike's troops, and the diminutive she-elf lost no time in impaling hundreds of the things on the wall of pikes that met each breach. That close quarters action would have consequences for later, but for the moment, we had won.

By sheer luck, the darkspawn discovered the location of the civilian section, with its greater proportion of women and children. The monsters couldn't help themselves. They were drawn to the women in particular, unable to override their instinct to gather females for transformation into broodmothers. A ghastly particular I did not know at the time, even if I did know they kidnapped women.

Regardless, the darkspawn did even more poorly against Blondie's firelancers and chevaliers. They didn't even get close to the wagons or sleds, the Colonel simply waited until the debris in each side tunnel was cleared and ordered a fusillade, followed by collapsing the side tunnels completely.

News of these assaults came back to me at once via radio, and by noon, there was a decided swagger in my step. My initial fears had been pushed away by the continual reports of darkspawn failures to breach our moving perimeter. I was beginning to think that they were just like any other of the threats so feared by the people of Thedas; hyped, due to the lack of technological progress or solid military thinking.

So I walked along with Armen and Leha, behind Julie, Tam and Ciara, dirty smirk plastered to my face out of arrogance. I even had time for yet more lust. Julie was in her Earth-uniform. Tam was in her black Qunari clothing. Both fit the forms of the ladies nicely, as always.

Soon, I noticed that Armen was enjoying the view as well. Ciara was dressed in her huntress leathers, after all. The all-too-familiar grin was on his face, illuminated by the light of his staff. It wasn't long before he noticed that I had noticed.

I held out my hand for a low-five. Armen duly slapped it. We both broke out laughing. Dogs that we are.

Our fair ladies turned around in confusion, briefly, before continuing on their way. If they had discovered that they were the subject of our mutual understanding, they made no show of it. Women do tend to be more mature about such matters, though I'm not sure if it's by nature or nurture.

Leha, on the other hand, was not so forgiving. A loud groan of weariness erupted from my left, where she was walking. She hefted her crossbow onto her shoulder, freeing up another hand to rub the frustration from her face.

"Ugh, I need vodka," she said lowly, "And a boy to roll around with."

"Are we that offensive?" Armen asked, his grin going nowhere.

"You are _nauseating_ ," Leha quipped, before eyeing me, "That's my friend, by the way, don't think I won't tell her what you're thinking." Referring to me ogling Julie.

I had a good scoff. What a meaningless threat.

"She knows," I said, "She can hear us. Maybe you need to consider relaxing a little, cutting loose."

"Bit hard to cut loose when you've lost everything," Leha sighed, "Worse, this time I can't just sit about, drinking my troubles away. My gold farm, finished, my sanctuary, taken away from me, and I'm stuck marching about the Deep Roads. Working, no less! It's a tragedy."

"Our happiness irritates you?" Armen asked playfully, "Why am I not surprised?"

"Your _distraction_ irritates me," Leha said, "Everyone else might think it's wonderful, but your public infatuations are irresponsible. You should be thinking of the threats right now and been seen to be taking them seriously. We're in the middle of darkspawn infested tunnels, and you're too busy being adolescent!"

A drunken lecher she might have been, but the dwarf was very serious about her work. Whether getting two coins to make a third, or as quartermaster for an army of refugees.

"Leha..." Julie warned softly from ahead, "Easy..."

"I will go easy when they get their act together," Leha shot back, "Orzammar has been under siege for centuries... what does that tell you about the depth of shit we're in right now?"

"I'd say we're only ankle deep," I retorted, "They keep trying, and we keep sending them to hell."

"They'll try harder," Leha said, "While you're busy thinking with something other than your head."

Annoyed that she assumed I wasn't doing my job for taking a moment of bliss, I rounded on her.

"I know exactly what I'm doing," I said, stabbing a finger, "They've failed to slow us down, and we've started collapsing the side sections entirely now. The next time they attack, they'll attempt to block off the front while attacking from the rear. They'll try and trap us."

It's what I would do, certainly. Of course, I didn't reckon with the mindlessness of the darkspawn. In truth, they simply attacked down the path of least resistance. And unfortunately, over the course of their previous attacks, they had discovered it through trial and error.

"But it won't work," I concluded, resuming my march, "Because we've got weapons and tactics those things have never seen before, and I know how to use 'em. So quit your whining."

Seconds after I finished speaking, staring down Leha angrily, the steady rumble of our march forward was interrupted by the far-off crack of firelances in the distance. Not to the front, where the sounds had echoed from before, but behind.

I looked back down the way we had come, ignoring the argument that had stopped me in the first place. A more rapid rumbling grew from the darkness beyond our torchlight. The sound of a quickmarch of armoured men. I couldn't see very far in the dark, but we had just made our way around a large leftward curve too. I immediately flicked my radio on.

"McNulty, report," I said into my mouthpiece, "How many?"

The general was further back in the column, with the cannons near the very rear.

There was static for a moment, which put me on edge a little. A flicker of light shining off the wet stone of the walls told me that my general had ordered a mage to send an illumination flare down towards the enemy.

"Not sure," McNulty responded gruffly, "Hundreds, thousands? Our pickets shot a couple of the scouts, and a volley of arrows came back in return."

I cursed under my breath. If they were coming from the rear in their thousands, they were coming from the perimeter around Orzammar. Another darkspawn trait... they don't tire easily. No doubt stragglers heard us moving about, and the hordes decided we were too good a thing to pass up on attacking. And in the dark, they could march almost all day to catch up with us.

"Withdraw around the corner," I said, "We'll hold them here."

"Yes, my lord," said McNulty, before shouting orders at his subordinates, his radio still active.

"Do you require reinforcements?" Mike asked, "I can send some back, if required."

"My chevaliers are closer," Louise pointed out.

Leaving either the frontal push or the civilian section stripped of troops they might need later wasn't something I was about to order. Besides, it would bring the entire column to a halt. They needed to keep moving, above all else.

"No, don't do anything," I said, "Keep moving until the designated hour to stop. We will catch up with you tonight."

"You're going to stay behind?!" Soprano exclaimed, "But if you die, then..."

"Tevinter won't help," I completed, "I know. We won't be anywhere if the darkspawn catch us, and I cannot ask my soldiers to face them while I hide."

Truth be told, I think Tiberius probably would have let our people use his fleet if he was told I had died in the Deep Roads. He wasn't spiteful, even if he was powerhungry, and if he had paid for a fleet, it would only be spite motivating him to refuse the refugees.

"Understood, my lord," Mike said at once, "We will keep moving as ordered."

With that, there was silence over the comms.

Having decided we would make our stand, I inspected the area. It was well suited to the job. More narrow, the curve preventing the darkspawn from getting a good fix on our numbers until they were in our sights, and there was no shortage of fallen columns for cover. I was soon confident we could hold the monsters off with as little trouble as before.

An effect boosted as I spied the Tranquil hauling our three cannons into position, to either side of one of the remaining upright columns in the middle of the road, two where the curve let them shoot down the way the darkspawn were coming, the third in a defilade. I hadn't given that order, and curiously, neither had McNulty. The Tranquil gunners themselves had worked out what they believed would work best.

I thought to myself that it was curious. The Tranquil weren't supposed to have initiative in that way.

No time to ponder it though. The movement of our soldiers forming ranks in front drew me, moving my attentions to the fight to come. The road was about a hundred feet wide, once you took into account the rock and debris that had been cleared to either side of it. That was the broadest part of the Deep Roads we'd see. Whether or not that was a good thing, I couldn't tell, but it did mean crowding.

We had a made a wall of bodies and steel across the space on both sides of the cannon position. The seven hundred firelancers were divided into three relay companies, so that we'd be firing continuously. The Grenadiers were to stand ready in reserve, for when the darkspawn got close enough for the potato-masher grenades. McNulty was organising the throng of people admirably, not raising his voice but using runners to direct things. The mages were milling about at the back. Their job was different, this time.

I turned to my companions. "We're going up front," I informed them.

All but Tam saw a pall go over their faces. They understood what I was trying to do; give no impression that I was leading from the rear against a foe with the most terrible reputation possible. But they knew it was extremely risky. The darkspawn did have archers, after all. And unlike in the cramped side tunnels, they'd be able to use them under the high-vaulted ceilings of the Upper Gallery.

Tam on the other hand seemed to relish the opportunity.

"Naturally," she replied, her vicious grin taking hold.

I raised an eyebrow. "Why are you smiling?" I asked.

Tam laughed, and delivered a kiss to my forehead.

"The Arishok's tales of his time in Ferelden," she replied, "It was the greatest honour of his life to defend the Qun in the way he did. The darkspawn would destroy the world and everything good about it. And now I have that honour too."

"We're not the Qun," Julie frowned.

"No, but you are my family," Tam replied, palming her black longbow, "And these are my people."

Ciara smiled warmly up at my Qunari lover, and brought her own recurve bow. Leha drew her sword and a kite shield. Armen flipped his staff off of his back, the spear-tip sparking with electricity. Julie took the firelance hanging off the front of her into her hands, and cocked the bolt.

"Well then," I said, "Follow me."

I moved behind the line, past the cannons, to the wall on the left side, where there was a series of smaller collapsed columns that would do nicely. I placed my foot on the first splintered stone, found it didn't move under my weight, and climbed atop the rest. This let me see over the heads of the soldiers below and down the tunnel. Even now, I could see our last pickets running towards us, and the subtle movement in the dark beyond. The darkspawn didn't have much use for torches, I thought, or they were waiting to ignite them when they got closer.

I activated my radio again.

"Bayonets," I said.

" _BAYONETS_!" McNulty roared, followed by his lieutenants and the sergeants in turn. The firelancers followed the order, snapping on the silverite blades to their barrels. I felt a little sad that we weren't going to have such fine weapons in great numbers any longer, as we had lost the huge silverite mines to our enemy. It was tempered by the knowledge that we'd probably put the bayonet out of use inside a couple of years anyway.

I looked down the tunnel again. The movement in the dark had taken on more corporeal form, and the movement of their feet was getting louder... but more interesting was the smell. It was repugnant, and unlike anything that had ever graced my nose before. Thankfully, it wasn't strong.

"Slow matches," I said.

McNulty spoke to a mage standing nearby, and at once, his Grenadiers' slowmatches were lit. Not exactly a huge innovation, just old bits of rope soaking in slow burning substances, but it meant there wouldn't be any delay in lighting the fuses of the grenades. Have to say it added to the menace of the large men and women, as it cloaked them in smoke and they glowed red. The acrid smell covered the darkspawn stench wonderfully too.

The scouts made it back, panting and gasping for air, the Tranquil stepping away from their cannons to let them pass. I gave them a wave of thanks. They had drawn the short straws and ended up unlucky, it was the least I could do. Some waved back.

"Barriers," I said.

" _BARRIERS!_ " went the shout.

Armen's Libertarians, spread out as they were, lifted their staves and glowed blue. Throughout the ranks of soldiers, Tranquil, even the cannons, a soft barely-visible blue aura covered all surfaces. My companions too, for that matter. As expected, the magic around me shattered instantly and glass-like particles of irreality sped away. It didn't bother me much. I could just duck if I needed protection. My soldiers on the other hand had a fighting chance if things did get messy.

The grunting and growling of the darkspawn was audible now, adding to the rumble of their feet. I almost hesitated to give the next, necessary order.

"Illumination," I said.

Armen, and certain members of his fraternity, immediately spun their staves over their heads, and a collection of weak white lights burst forth, racing forwards and up into the ceiling ahead of us. Our eyes couldn't have handled the change in conditions for anything brighter, not after days underground, and we needed every shot to count. The orbs sped up and hovered near the ceiling. Right above the darkspawn.

I got my first look at them down my firelance's sights, and I wasn't disappointed.

The stories were dead true about their appearance, and supported the rumours of their capabilities. Most were surprisingly small in stature, about the same size as a dwarf perhaps, but built like a brick shithouse, with arms that looked like their could bend steel railway, all carrying bows and swords. With them were larger specimens, some standing upright and shoulders back, others huddled over, darting around, all looking like they would tear a man limb-from-limb. Further back, there were larger forms... even floating forms, which confirmed that they did have mages.

Genlocks, hurlocks and shrieks.

What I remember most is their faces. Pale, sickly skin with black lines tracing their veins, mouths more like maws than anything you'd see on a sentient creature, black eyes peering out through masks or out from under helmets of crude metal.

"Leha," I said, lowering my weapon, "Your people have been fighting _that_ for centuries? Hand-to-hand?"

"Losing," Leha replied, displeased that it was the truth, "But yes."

"Impressive," I said.

Nothing quite like darkspawn charging at you to create a sense of respect for the capabilities of the dwarva. Of course, when they're charging a gunline, it also creates a sense of disrespect for the intellect of the darkspawn themselves.

I stood up and shouldered my firelance. "OPEN FIRE!" I shouted.

A firestorm flowed forth down the tunnel, one made of flying lead, burning wisps of cartridge paper and white smoke.

* * *

I have fought many enemies that have charged forward recklessly into the hail of our new weapons, but none did it with such abandon, such disregard for their own lives, as the darkspawn did.

For a full half hour, they came on, waves of stinking, pale flesh and rusted iron. Our scouts' estimates had been way off, there had to be at least ten thousand, albeit coming at us down a narrow path. Human enemies always seemed to come at us like they were in a rain storm, shoulders huddled and back hunched, making their target profile as small as possible. What the Deep Roads witnessed that day was thousands of creatures moving with no fear whatsoever.

Volley after volley rippled into the undisciplined mass of darkspawn, tearing down two ranks at a time. The cannons were even more deadly, two firing lead bolts through dozens, the third firing grapeshot on the four separate occasions that the darkspawn got close enough to use their bows. Soon, the curve in the road was a roiling mass of ichor and meat, the living kicking or pushing the dead to the sides of the tunnel, which further bottlenecked them into our gunsights. Lucky us, as we would have had no reprieve or ammunition if the corpses hadn't occasionally stopped the horde's advance.

Fish in a friggin' barrel doesn't even begin to explain it. I hadn't even fired a shot.

The sheer killing that the first volley had done showed me that there had been no need. It wasn't our lethality that looked to be a problem. The Deep Roads aren't exactly ventilated, and blackpowder creates a huge amount of smoke. The more we fired, the harder it was to breath without coughing your lungs up. Worse, the smoke drifted _towards_ the darkspawn, probably because of the slit windows in the direction we had come from, obscuring them just enough that they did manage to get off a few arrows.

The smoke was also slowing down our rate of fire. When a whole army coughs, it's almost as loud as a volley. I had thought of many solutions to potential problems before we had come, but I hadn't thought of this one. Still, it wasn't like it was a dire issue.

"Armen, can you get your people to start handing out cloth?" I said, perched on the fallen columns, "Give them out to the troops coming in after their relay, to cover their noses and mouths."

The mage disappeared from his position nearby and down into the smoke. It seemed to pool below us, like a river. The area where our troops were moving about and firing almost looked like the rapids, as each platoon and company moved, churning the smoke up and adding to it.

To me, it was the River Styx itself. Which set me humming the tune of _Renegade,_ and even considering breaking out the speakers. That it might drown out the nasty noise of the meat harvest in front of us, being my intention. I turned to Julie to suggest it, and found her eyes glued to the carnage through my IRNV goggles. In fact, all of my companions were under the same spell, their mouths agape. That set off alarm bells.

I clicked my fingers a couple of times to get their attention. "Hey, I know it's not a picture," I said, "But looking at it too closely isn't healthy. Trust me."

Heads tilted in confusion. "Horrible?" Leha said, curious, "What?"

"He doesn't understand," Julie smiled, taking the goggles off.

"Tell him," Ciara said.

I frowned. "Tell me what?" I asked.

Tam moved beside me, taking my face in her hands. "This is not horrible," she said, "It's wonderous." With that said, she planted a kiss on my nose.

"Wonderous?" I said, incredulous. I glanced back at the screeching, moaning pile of corpses about a hundred and fifty yards off.

"What else could it be," Julie said, before pointing at the advancing horde, "That is the ancient enemy of every living person on Thedas. And look what we're doing to them."

I did so, considering for the first time what it would look like to a Thedosian. Five Blights, all of which cost thousands of lives at the very best, millions at the worst. Four Holocausts, and an attempted one. Men and children mindlessly butchered, women kidnapped...

My heart lifted at the thought of our killing, because it meant that the darkspawn could no longer roll over the armies of the living. I had only thought of my weapons as a means for men to kill one another, but I realised right then and there that it meant something else too. The living would have the weapons to hold the darkness at bay with ease from now on.

"Marquis, we have a problem," McNulty reported, breaking my reverie, "The Tranquil are running out of things to shoot."

That wasn't particularly bad news, but if it was the prelude to everyone else running out of ammunition, it would be. I glanced back at the supply wagons, but couldn't see how full they were through the smoke. I hissed a complaint to myself, fixing my mouthpiece.

"What about the firelances?" I asked.

"We still have plenty for those," McNulty responded, having anticipated the question, "But the rate we're going through cartridges... It won't be long."

I sighed. The darkspawn had to be almost done too. No way they could sustain these casualties for much longer. There was a breaking point in every horde, there had to be. It was going to come down to the wire.

I considered collapsing the main tunnel, something I had dismissed earlier as both too dangerous and too difficult to do correctly. The ceiling was a spider's web of cracked archways, as far as the eye could see in either direction. We'd need to make a fighting retreat to a section where the roof was more natural.

"Hold fire on the cannons," I said at last, "We'll use the last of their ammunition and the grenades to cover us if we need to get the hell out of here. Everyone else is to keep up the shooting."

"Copy," said McNulty.

Satisfied that would see us through long enough to break the darkspawn's numbers, I turned around to refocus my attention on them. It had gotten strangely quiet, and I began to wonder what they were up to.

What I found was Julie and Tam entranced in the images provided by my goggles, looking very unhappy.

"Sam," Julie said, "Look." She held out her set of goggles to me.

I took them and held them to my face rather than attaching them to my helmet. What I saw curdled my stomach.

The heat silhouettes lit up in the distance were not human sized. To me, it appeared as if someone had genetically engineered linebackers with horns. Seven feet tall each with ease, built of muscle to the point that they looked almost like gorillas walking upright, and armoured up. Worse, I couldn't see half of them because of the curve, and there was no shortage of squat archers walking alongside those I could see.

"Damn, would you look at that," I said, "It's the New England Patriots. Have to say they're looking raggedy."

"Ogres," Tam said, her lips curled with disgust, "Corrupted Qunari..."

The slight twinge of fear in her voice was painful to hear. It was more than corruption of Qunari bodies, it was a corruption of her own desire. These were the spawn of the kidnapped.

"Doesn't matter what you call them," I said, "They're dead."

I took her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm.

"McNulty, have the Tranquil load canister," I ordered, "Grenadiers and mages to front and centre. Firelancers, cease fire and prepare to charge."

The general didn't reply, his voice called out to do what I had asked. The soldiers and mages began moving, forming up for what was to come. McNulty saw that it was appropriate, and took a small swing from his flask. And I doubt it was of water.

"We're about to be visited," he said, "By something worse than these … creatures."

"Yeah," I replied, "One more thing. Women to the rear."

Julie, Leha and Ciara immediately raised their voices, all variously stating that they would not be put in the back. Tam didn't even need to speak, she just sent a glare my way. I just held up a hand to forestall them, but it didn't work. They kept on, probably rightly so.

"As if I could stop any of you from doing what you want!" I said loudly, "But I'm not putting our soldiers at risk of... whatever the hell it is the darkspawn do to the people they drag off." I hesitated to say 'women they drag off'... because we didn't need that image in our heads any more than it already was.

My lovers seemed to accept it, at least, so with that, I descended the splintered columns. Mercifully, the smoke had cleared up a little. I joined Armen as he moved to the front with his mages, the others coming along close behind. Or at least, some of the mages. A majority of the Libertarians were female... the reason for which I would be discovering soon on Lake Calenhad.

The eyes of the ranks followed us with trepidation and alarm. They knew if we were going forward, we were about to enter the churn. No point being quiet about the details.

"Ogres up ahead," I said to Armen, "You ready?"

The mage gave me a thumbs up, his grin going nowhere. Armen was always a brave man.

We reached the front, where the Tranquil were loading up their cannons with canister shot. I looked back, and saw the women that had been ordered back taking up our previous post on top of the collapsed columns. That was the rear, technically, I guess, it wasn't exactly in the spirit of my order. But one look to the front had me feeling glad that they had come up with the loophole.

The ogres were charging now, the genlocks running behind.

I quickly explained my plan to McNulty. Once he had the idea, I cocked the bolt of my heavy firelance and knelt. Julie and Leha did the same to either side of me, firelance and crossbow aimed, as Tam, Ciara and Armen stood behind us in the ranks of the soldiers.

It became easier to pick out the details of the individual ogres as they came closer in the dim magical light. Their faces were strangely skeletal, the ridges of their eye sockets and brows pronounced. The horns were unique to every individual, some having sets that looked like it would weigh down their heads, others almost lacking them entirely. Either way, the skull-faced horned devils were an entirely worthy enemy.

They got bogged down in the blood, guts and remains of their slain fellows, despite having more muscle to put behind the task of kicking and shoving the corpses out of the way. Regardless, it was an opportunity I wasn't about to let pass.

"Armen, now!" I shouted.

At once, brilliant white light poured from my friend's staff, directed forwards. The ogres reacted the way you'd expect creatures that have lived almost all their lives in darkness to react; they froze in confusion.

All the better to hit them.

The Tranquil reacted instantly with the perfect precision under pressure that only they could have. The cannons boomed, rolling back on their wheels by the force of the recoil. The clusters of lead balls tore into the ogres. Even with the smoke and the low light, no way they could have missed. With the help of Armen, they had picked their firing lanes for maximum effect.

Ragged, bloody wounds flowered on the pale skin of about half the beasts, sending many of them staggering to the ground and falling onto their chests. Yet most did not seem to have been killed, those felled even beginning to drag themselves up once more. They were recovering quickly. My mouth went dry at just how quickly.

It was our turn.

I took aim and fired, tracers streaming into the darkspawn from the last good barrel for the heavy firelance that I had left. Julie joined in first, quickly followed by the soft hiss of Ciara and Tam's arrows and the dull thrang of Leha's crossbow. We targeted the most healthy looking ones, the ones whom were at the edges of where the cannons had fired, trying to keep them as far back as we could. To my great relief, it worked.

Which allowed the next stage to be unleashed. The Grenadiers had used the time we had bought well, spreading out and igniting the fuses of their grenades. As I finished shooting, the grenades were thrown, arcing through the air and among the enemy. They exploded around the feet of the ogres, crippling the entire front rank and killing those still on the ground.

Yet still the darkspawn advanced, and with a great deal more haste now. That struck me as almost... intelligent, which should have been more disturbing had it not been for the soothing sound of the firelancers cocking the hammers of their weapons. I quickly reloaded, letting my subordinates do the work of coordinating our

" _Presentez vos armes!_ " McNulty shouted. His Grenadiers knelt, getting out of the way of the forest of long barrelled muskets, bayonets gleaming in the reflected light from Armen's staff.

" _En jou!_ "

" _FEU!_ "

Four full ranks opened fire, cracking off shots as one, the bullets rippling wounds through the running darkspawn. The ogres were no match for firearms, but it didn't matter. The living, just as with the lesser forms, simply kicked the dead aside and kept going. Worse, unlike their smaller cousins, those that had lost an arm or even both arms decided that being injured to that degree was no impediment to them taking a few of us with them.

The sinking feeling that we might not win almost kept me on my knee, but I fought it away, standing up and giving the order for the final part of my plan. The last ditch effort before we had to retreat.

"CHARGE!" I shouted.

The rebel yell went up from the throat of every soldier, their firelances held at the hip.

Together, we ran straight at the ogres. Whatever wounds they thought they had gotten away with, the darkspawn's line was ragged and disorganised, and they had no time to remedy that.

Julie and I ripped through the centre with our firelances, Armen doing just as much damage with bolts of lightning, all of us yelling until our throats hurt. To both sides of us, the giants were getting impaled by five, six or seven bayonets at a time, there was just that amount of space for our people to work with in between each of the enemy. The rear ranks caught up and added point-blank firelance shots, mages doing all they could to protect our people.

Not that most of the blows delivered by us were anywhere near lethal enough, but the weight of numbers told much.

The ogres retaliated with vicious backhanded blows with armoured fists, killing instantly anyone they caught in each swipe. The magical barriers that clung to our soldiers' bodies were no help, except against the opportunistic shooting of arrows. The whole thing devolved into a giant, knives-out brawl.

The bodies of my soldiers flailed to the ground, sending my blood to boil. Where I saw such sights, I brought retribution, but even my formidable arsenal was not enough. We killed most of them, but not all of them. Soon, as my companions and I reaped in the centre, the darkspawn pushed in on the edges, almost surrounding us. We could eventually beat them back, but it wasn't something we could do in a moment.

I should have called a withdrawal, at least to stabilise our lines... We had already broken the ogres, which was the whole point of our charge in the first place. But I didn't. I couldn't. It would have delayed the annihilation of the darkspawn.

Which means what happened next was entirely my fault.

Ciara and I were killing a particularly large specimen that had just collapsed the chest of a Grenadier, feathering … him? It? I'm still not clear on darkspawn gender. Regardless, he fell to the floor, feathered with multiple arrows and bleeding profusely from the gut where five-five-six rounds had sliced through. Pleased with the result, I began to search for my next target, when something whipped past my ear. At least two arrows, but I can't be sure.

I flinched and dropped to my knee, the pad soaking in mixed darkspawn and human blood. Normally, I would have shown the shooters the error of their ways by making them into Tantervale-Swiss cheese. Instead, I heard a sound that made me feel as if someone had their hands around me throat; a ping followed by a cry of pain. I knew exactly who the latter belonged to.

I turned to find an arrow sticking out of Tam's back.

The arrow, badly fletched with something that wasn't from any bird, had buried itself below her left shoulder blade, having entered at just the right angle to avoid the heavy kevlar and the steel plate beneath. It hadn't penetrated too deeply, but Tam began to falter, dropping her bow and staggering, her hand searching for and finding the offending weapon.

I ran over, trying to stop her from yanking it out herself, but she did it before I could stop her. The scream of pain from that action finally drew Julie's attention.

"Oh no, no, no!" she said, coming over and trying to put pressure on the wound, "Not now, not now!"

"We need to get the hell out of here," I said, discovering the error I had made in the worst possible way.

Tam threw off our touch with a snarl, rage consuming her, her eyes looking off down the tunnel. She stood up awkwardly to her full, considerable height. She coolly drew her longsword and curved dagger. To Julie and I, it looked like complete madness, and we tried desperately to get her to get back, to move to safety. Leha and Ciara sent worried looks our way, even as they kept the genlocks off our backs. Armen was too far to have noticed yet.

"Marquis!" McNulty said in my ear, desperation in his voice, "We need you!"

Our troops were backing off now, achieving what I had hoped to in that the darkspawn at the edges of the tunnel had been repulsed, but the reason for it was far less hopeful.

The darkspawn had a damned mage, and if there was anything on Thedas that looked more like a vampire, I haven't encountered it. It wore strange headdress, almost like antlers, and long leather robes. It walked along as casually as can be, the last three ogres protecting it, as it protected them. The bodies of our soldiers that had gotten close were simply shredded, as if from the inside.

"Blood magic," Tam rasped, "It's an emissary."

I didn't recognise that term... but it implied greater intelligence than what we had seen so far.

Our soldiers were backing off and reloading, even as the thing advanced. Its face was covered save for holes for eyes that were solid black, but by its body language, it looked to be positively enjoying itself. Taking its time. Even the genlocks had stopped shooting.

McNulty was the last to reach our point, giving notice to Tam's wound, before looking expectantly at me. We had no Templars on hand. I was the only one who could stand up to the emissary's magic. Not something I wished to do, but the thought of

I moved in front of Tam, firelance at the ready. Julie joined me, taking aim.

For a moment, neither army did anything but threaten each other quietly. Our people aimed, the monsters did the same with their shortbows. I stared at the emissary, it stared back at me. It seemed to be evaluating me, trying to figure out why I would step in front. It was disgusting, and I just wanted it over with.

"Fuck you!" I shouted, "Go back to hell where you came from!"

Its head tilted to the side, curious. And then it unleashed a magical bolt, over our heads.

I squeezed my trigger, stitching the emissary with bullets. Barriers with the strength to protect from me not being in the magical repertoire of the creature. Intelligence doesn't translate to a greater will to live among darkspawn. It tumbled backwards, dead as anyone else who thought bending reality only a little would save them from a machinegun for long. The ogres around it looked at it, and back to me.

Unfortunately, the corrupted mage wasn't finished screwing with us yet, even after death.

From behind came the sound of rock splitting. The last column standing to our rear had taken the full force of the emissary's magic.

No one wasted any time. Even the darkspawn fled back the way they came, the roof above us joining in the fun. With no time to lose, I manoeuvred myself to help carry Tam away and grabbed Julie's arm with my free hand, before dragging both of them to safety in the midst of the rush to get away. The column fell towards us, and with it, the well-crafted ceiling came down.

It felt like being inside an earthquake when the rock impacted the floor less than a dozen feet from where we had been standing, my teeth rattling in my gums with each hit, but the sensation soon subsided.

A quick check confirmed what I already knew from the fact that we were still breathing. The whole mountain hadn't come down on us, just the artificial parts above us and sections of what looked like another, much smaller tunnel. Better yet, we weren't cut off from rejoining the rest of our people and I doubted that the Tranquil were crushed. The way wasn't entirely blocked, even if it didn't look like we could fit more than one person at a time through a path created by the shelter of the previously downed columns.

But I knew that wasn't the point.

"Form up!" I said, "They'll be coming!"

Answering me, the darkspawn did exactly what I thought they would. They came swarming back, now that we were trapped like rats. Not to mention separated from our ammunition wagons.

" _FEU A VOLUNTÉ!_ " McNulty barked, lighting a grenade's fuse as he spoke.

The darkspawn were met with another hail of bullets and grenades, but they were coming from a section of the curve that wasn't covered in bodies. They were closing in, and I couldn't do much to help. My firelance was nearly empty, and I was practically carrying Tam. All I was capable of was watching helplessly, as we were pushed, step by step, over the mounds of the dead and dying, up against the wall of rubble.

Genlocks loosed arrows in volleys, testing the endurance of the Libertarians to the very limits and scoring lucky hits.

Armen was the man at the very front, spinning his staff like a god damn parade baton. He was sending out so much lightning, Thor himself would be green with jealousy. My previous queasiness at the death twitches of those struck by such attacks disappeared entirely, as he personally felled whole ranks of darkspawn, demonstrating once again why he held such rank among his kind at such a young age.

But even I saw the tide rising, Armen's obvious fatigue being the biggest clue of all. I drew the obvious conclusion.

"This is it," I said, "We've done what we set out to do. McNulty, begin getting the wounded through the passage. We'll hold them as long as we can."

My words didn't say that we were probably already dead, but my tone sure as shit did.

"Yes, my lord," he said, immediately, "It's been an honour."

"Wish I could have had another drink with you," I said, "Tam first."

The general nodded, and took Tam from me, her violet eyes barely open now. Julie gave her a kiss as she was taken away... which I couldn't bear to do, for the sake of my own determination to die facing the enemy. The terrible dread of death weighed like chains on me, as I'm sure it did on everyone present. Seeing it through without Tam was worse.

The walking wounded began carrying or dragging those more seriously injured away. They threw their ammunition belts over the shoulders of those still in action as they passed before filing through the gap in the rubble. The darkspawn's mindless tactics were coincidentally the best they could have employed, now that we didn't have buckets of bullets to throw. Even after I had reloaded the last belt into my own firelance and spent it, they came on in waves.

Armen soon came reeling back like a man drunk through the gun-smoke.

"They're almost done," he said, panting like a dog, "They have to be." I agreed, though I wasn't sure that meant we'd get through it.

Another darkspawn wave boiled forwards, made up this time of the darting forms of shrieks. They weren't densely packed like the others, and danced about, making very poor targets.

"So are we," Leha said.

" _Fen'Harel ma halam!_ " Ciara shouted at the shrieks, loosing her last arrow, "I am only done when I am dead."

McNulty strode over, grim as you would expect, firelance couched in his arms.

"The wounded are through," he said, "But we're almost out." Through the escape passage, and out of bullets, he meant.

"Very well," Julie said, before I could.

She moved to the front once more, letting her firelance hang off its straps and taking her warhammer into her hand.

" _Liberté!_ " she declared.

" _Ou la mort!_ " replied the troops, without hesitation.

A sad smile fell over Julie's face, and everyone knew what she wanted to do, what she was asking us to do. Quietly, we began to advance. Not a charge. A walk. I don't think we had another charge in us anyway, but regardless, it wasn't about that. Our troops closed in shoulder to shoulder with us once more.

We were fully prepared to wade into the horde, with no escape. We went straight at them, firing the last shots, dirtied bayonets and swords at the ready for the last action. Contrary to some thoughts afterwards, it wasn't exactly a completely suicidal move, just very nearly one. We believed we could win. We just didn't think most of us would live to see it.

But when a dull drone of a horn being blown from the tunnel beyond sounded, we stopped dead in our tracks, despairing.

"More of them," Ciara said wearily, "Is there no end to it?"

The horn sounded again, twice in rapid succession. Suddenly, Leha began cackling. Like a crazy person, holding her sides, almost dropping her sword, as the rumbling of feet got closer. It appeared that even the darkspawn paused to take note of it, though that wasn't in fact the reason for their sudden change of vigour. Our people certainly didn't hesitate to exploit it.

"What the hell is it now?" I asked the dwarf.

"Those aren't darkspawn horns blowing," she said with complete glee, "I don't believe it!"

Around the corner came proof of Leha's assertion, in the form of a large number of armoured figures accompanied by the lumbering forms of moving statues. A couple of hundred dwarva, easily recognised by their height, though the 'golems' were much larger. The darkspawn, seemingly deciding that these newcomers were the real threat and not liking the idea of being trapped as we had been, threw themselves with the same abandon as before.

"Hold fire!" I ordered. Not that there was much need. Almost everyone was down to their last bullet, or had already shot it.

The golems wasted no time in scattering the main body of the monsters, allowing the dwarves the space to run through the darkspawn lines and gather in front of us. The darkspawn began to flee at last, their numbers finally too small to defeat what they faced. We looked on in awe, or whatever the closest thing to that is when you feel like you could sleep for a century or two.

The commander, as evidenced by the deference shown by subordinates, made his way towards us. This wasn't the first male dwarf I had met, I had known a few via Leha, but this was the first who really looked the part of what I knew a dwarf to be. Huge beard, huge axe. The skull motif on his armour and helmet completed the picture.

He was equally in awe, of the bodies piled against the walls and gathered in clusters all around, and of us for making them. He inspected us as he got closer, before the gleam of recognition entered his eyes as they fell on Leha. He approached, as she wiped the tears of laughter away, still giving off a chuckle here and there.

"Lady Malika Cadash," he said, "In the Deep Roads of all places, in the company of elves and humans... This _is_ a sight." Leha, for the record, is actually her mother's name. 'Cadas' is her Orlesian moniker.

"Good to see you again too, Korbin," Leha replied, sheathing her sword, "Legion of the Dead now, I see. Can't say it doesn't suit you, but what happened? I thought you were in Bhelen's good books?"

"Long story," Korbin replied, "I chose it, more or less. We have a lot to talk about."

Leha looked around at the morgue we had turned this part of the world into.

"We do," she said, with a glance back to me.

"Yeah, but let's get the hell out of here first," I said. All those present agreed wholeheartedly.

* * *

 _AUTHOR'S NOTE: It's finally done! Praise the Maker! This chapter was an absolute nightmare to write, and I think I'll be editing it until the end of time. Even tried to write other stuff to break the block, but ideas for this kept coming to me instead, ideas I couldn't write into it!_

 _A huge amount happened too, to the point that I could probably have written a volume about the Deep Roads itself... but the next chapter will finally see us in Ferelden._

 _In my frustration, I also drew a map of the Battle of Sahrnia... I'll put that up at some point, after I figure out how to do that._

 _Also, my alerts have finally resumed after a month and a half! I can actually see when you review and message me. I feel privileged._

 _The poll on which other Outlanders you'd like to see a story about first (after the first Tiberius) is still open, and the results are different from last time! Go vote if you haven't already!_

 _Enjoy this chapter!_

 _ **Katkiller-V:** I could have prepared for three more chapters... and preparation leaked into the start of this chapter too, but I decided I needed to get on with it. _

_Nothing good ever does happen in the Deep Roads...And yeah, the Legion were always going to show. It's just not the underworld without them._

 _ **5 Coloured Walker:** Merci_

 _ **Thepkrmgc:** Ah yes, but who?_

 _ **Lord Mortem:** Thanks_

 _ **Charlie019:** Who said Antiva was going to sit quietly? _

_And yeah, I'm looking forward to finally writing Aurelia myself. As for ogres, it takes a shedload to kill them._

 _ **OBSERVER01:** Cheers_

 _ **Noblescar:** I'm glad you did find it, and enjoyed it so far! Though I must ask; how did you find it? Via TV Tropes, a search on here?_

 _ **Guest:** More shall come._

 _ **Veniat:** You aren't alone in thinking like that, but I have to point out as I have before that Gaspard is not handing Ferelden anything. Ferelden despises Orlesians. Julie and her people are Orlesians, who are just as hostile towards Ferelden. _

_**Stuilly:** Hope this fulfilled your expectations._

 _ **Stormtide Leviathan:** Will do._


	40. Chapter 40: Winged Lancers

**Chapter Forty: Winged Lancers**

The Battle of Honnleath is now somewhat of a legend in Ferelden, though given the tendency of the Fereldans to tell tales, whether false or exaggerated truth, it was inevitable.

The arrival of the first Orlesian army on the soil of the country since the brutal occupation was always going to be the subject of songs, stories and drunken crap-talk. Most bemoan the event, as it represented the victory of a foreign enemy over what amounted to the defeat of domestic ones. Of course, the one place that makes exception is Honnleath itself, which holds an ambiguous opinion to this day.

I find the entire phenomenon distasteful, given that the battle was to be a mere skirmish compared to the hell of the Battle of the Upper Gallery. Fereldans lament that we were ever present. We defeated three of their foes in quick succession, at no small cost, and they lament.

Of the one thousand two hundred soldiers, mages and Tranquil that had made up our rearguard, one hundred and eighty nine were killed in action.

Ninety seven Grenadiers, nearly half their number. Eighty nine line-firelancers, one in ten that had fought. Two of Armen's Libertarians, two that had fought with him at the front rather than simply providing magical barriers. And lastly, one Tranquil, crushed to death by debris. To me, losing so many was a big deal. In the world I came from, ten percent fatalities in a battle would be considered a bloodbath. The Upper Gallery taught me to expect that level.

Far more had been wounded, some four hundred, most reporting broken bones, with the occasional arrow wound or sword cut. Anyone with more serious injuries died before our mages could stabilise them, but we saved far more than any other army could have. The combination of Earth knowledge and magical healing was potent, even back then.

I had great reason to be hopeful, even as Armen incinerated the bodies of the dead and Brandon led the chant. We discovered the latter had refused to leave with the rest of the army, and Barris had tasked a dozen Templars to escort her back towards us. The death of my troops stung, but it is a rare thing for a soldier to be able to claim that they fought and died for a good reason. Most die for stupid or mediocre reasons. If there was an afterlife, they were surely being rewarded in it.

We rejoined the rest of the army, the Legion of the Dead with us, unaware that the darkspawn would haunt us throughout our time in Ferelden.

* * *

We proceeded at good speed on our way.

The darkspawn only attacked from the front after the battle, where their numbers were small and where Mike's pike troops could do them over them like a road roller. The wounded were treated the same night we regrouped, which was unpleasant to listen to but required. Luckily, they were able to ride on a couple of the now-empty food wagons with little difficulty. Markham kept them under a strict watch the whole time, checking on them personally each hour and reporting their status back to me by radio.

The Knight-Master of the Hospitallers did so of his own accord, and I spent a couple of days wondering why. I was quite pleased to hear news of my soldiers getting progressively better, but it began bothering me for one particular reason.

News of Tam's health wasn't mentioned. She had been sent to the middle section with the other wounded. During the remaining nightly halts, the rest of my companions and I visited for a few hours before being shooed off by Markham himself. She seemed weaker than usual. When I asked Markham, he replied each time: "She'll live." The lack of details pissed me off, but Julie accepted it freely, so I kept my mouth shut.

To distract myself from the death I had seen and the worry over Tam, I tried to coax Leha into discussing her revealed true name during the hourly rests. I got nowhere. To make matters more interesting, the dwarva that she interacted with reacted either with fear or respect.

On the final day of our journey, we were descending from the Upper Gallery through the corkscrew-shaped tunnel that eventually leads to the lower levels of Valammar at the edge of the Fereldan Hinterlands. That wasn't much good for our purposes, the streets of a thaig not being ideal for defending against darkspawn, but it meant the entire route was lit up by glowstones. Soft orange light saturated everything, giving the mages some much needed relief from duty.

We were marching along, nearing the end of the day's march, when Korbin, the commander of the Legion of the Dead, joined us. Clanking along in his full-plate, like it was as heavy as linen. Or rather, joined Leha. He wasn't very talkative in general, and responded to my inquiries about Orzammar mostly with shrugs or convoluted ways of saying 'Not sure'. Julie's attempts were even less fruitful, he just tried to flirt with her.

Truth be told, all of the Legion seemed to share the trait of not speaking very much. I guess they imitate the dead in that respect, though the dead on Thedas speak a hell of a lot more than the dead on Earth. The golems spoke, after all.

As such, I couldn't help but pick up my pace to eavesdrop on the pair. At first, they were wary of such, but they quickly gave more attention to each other than to everyone else. Something that I was not alone in noticing.

"They've slept with each other," Armen said quietly. I rolled my eyes. No shit, Sherlock.

The mage had been just as interested as I had been in the new development, though out of curiosity more than wanting a distraction. Ciara wasn't bothered at all, walking behind us with her hands tucked behind her head, bored of the sights and ignoring our common cause for the day. Soon, we crept close enough to hear.

They spoke in Common, which was an uncommon enough thing to be remarked upon. Most of our conversations were in Orlesian with Common terms thrown in, though I have reproduced the majority of them here in Common too.

"...keeping them on a tight leash, last I heard," Korbin said, "The trouble has pushed prices up, which pleases everyone. House Cadash especially. The apostates in the mountains are worried, and Ostwick's got a lot of Templars, the Chantry there has need of extra lyrium to keep them in line."

Armen and I glanced at each other, not expecting to hear anything more interesting that personal details. This, on the other hand, was information we could use. Even if lyrium was a complete mystery to me.

"I'm sure they are," Leha groaned, shaking her head, "My cousins must be jumping for the moons with joy. Just don't see why I should care."

"Your lord and lady have Templars under their command, don't they?" Korbin replied, "Surely you could give your family a break, hook into the trade."

Leha shook her head. "I checked, Barris has his own contacts," she said, "And they're enough to supply the hundred or so Templars anyway."

"A hundred?" Korbin replied, curious, "I've seen five hundred at least. The flaming sword is hard to miss, and I saw it around Orzammar when the Fereldans visited."

A choke of amusement erupted from my dwarven companion, rising to a low chuckle. As Korbin looked on in confusion, I have to admit to stifling a laugh of my own, for the reason that Leha was about to explain.

"Those aren't Templars," she said, "They're just wearing the armour. Stripped from Templar corpses. They didn't go down easy. Bastards even managed to shoot me, before Sam blew them up and a magister set them on fire." She pulled back the sleeve of her tunic to reveal a scar on her arm.

"And they're not 'my lord and lady' you idiot," Leha added, "One's my friend, and both are my business partners."

"Dangerous partners," Korbin replied quickly, "Their Chantry must be angry."

"The priestesses gave in," Leha shrugged, "Granted them autonomy... though who knows if that's still decreed. Bit hard to ignore people who can walk through magic and rally the eastern Dales in a matter of months. You've heard of them, right?"

"Oh yes," Korbin nodded, "Hard not to, every Fereldan soldier was chattering about it for a while. Mostly looking down on Orlesians for believing in a man who said he was from another world and a woman who wants to destroy her own country's nobility. She's a pretty one, just not that pretty."

Leha laughed again, adding a playful punch to Korbin's shoulder, which was only lightly armoured. Armen gave me a nudge, before mouthing 'shouldn't you defend your lady's honour?'

I looked back at Julie. She was deep in conversation with Brandon. Nope, not going there.

"Malika... you have to realise..." Korbin said, "You have a real chance at earning forgiveness, with what you have here."

"You assume I want forgiveness," Leha replied, "The family made it clear. I would have to do something of equal importance to undo the damage I did. Something like... I don't know, infiltrating a Chantry conclave, finding a new vein of lyrium, or assassinating the King. I'm not willing to do anything like that. Not when I have my friend to stand by me, and partners who won't lay the blame at my feet for unavoidable circumstance."

"The circumstances weren't all that unavoidable," Korbin mused, "The ships were hardly in safe waters."

"Pirates aren't my fault," Leha said through her teeth, "And don't you dare suggest otherwise. We'll be travelling through the same seas soon enough, stick around and I'll show you just what I intend to see done to the fish-fiddling pricks."

"You let them have the shipment without a fight," Korbin smiled, "That's not a very... Carta thing to do."

"I kept the damn ships," Leha complained, "And my own life. But apparently having the good business sense to preserve assets is cowardice."

"Like I said, not a very Carta thing to do..." Korbin continued, "But it is a very Malika thing to do. I just thought you might want to go back to your family, now that you've fallen from treasurer of a small kingdom to quartermaster of a band of rebels."

"Can't say the thought hasn't crossed my mind," Leha said, "But it will still be more profitable here than back home. Plus, I won't get stabbed in the back by my own family. That helps."

"Oh, I don't know," Korbin said, "I think if you went back, you'd find yourself at the head of the table."

Leha's head whipped around to look at him, slowing both their pace in the process. Armen and I had to quickly adjust ourselves, or else risk tripping over the both of them.

"What does that mean?" Leha said, "What's changed?"

"Word about the weapons has spread too," Korbin replied, "And besides that, the South side of the family pissed off Bhelen recently. You show up in Orzammar, with a new lyrium contract in one hand and the recipe for Qunari blackpowder in the other? The King will probably want to marry you. And your clan? They'll forget all about bygones."

I moved forward to intervene. Leha wasn't the one who got to make the decision about who we shared our technology with, not by a long shot.

Armen stopped me, lightly grabbing my arm. He bade me to wait a moment.

Leha was very quiet for a while, the sound of the march and Korbin's armour seeming to bleed into nothing as I waited for her response.

"Blackpowder isn't mine to give," she said at last, "Besides, Bhelen has golems. It's not like he needs cannons."

I breathed a sigh of relief, and kicked myself for worrying in the first place. Leha wasn't stupid.

"He'll want them though," Korbin smiled, "Having the reclaimed thaigs connected by surface roads alone is a weakness he would rather be rid of. Our own expedition was to find some way to safely travel to and from Valammar. Your new weapons would solve the problem. As much as he's benefited from the Fereldan alliance, his instinct is always towards consolidating power to his throne alone."

"That's certainly why you're here," Leha replied with a smirk, "You really are a waste in the Legion."

"Tell me about it," said the 'dead' dwarf, stroking his beard.

The two seemed to be content to eye each other up. Or rather, Korbin was content while Leha scowled, pretending like she wasn't going to sleep with the man again. She had chewed me out about public displays of affection not very long ago, after all.

The interesting part done with, I looked at my watch. It was almost time to call the halt, and as we had more or less reached the end of our journey in the Deep Roads, I decided to call it early. The next day would be a long one, we needed rest.

I activated my comms. "This is Hunt, all sections halt and set up camp," I said, "We're done for the day. Mike, you're the watch commander tonight."

Leha and Korbin flinched and turned as I began speaking, to Armen and I as Mike acknowledged my orders. We were close enough to reach out and touch their heads, easily. That they hadn't noticed wasn't pleasing to them. And after Leha's display before the mess in the Upper Gallery, I was in the mood to rub it in.

" _Malika_ ," I smiled, "Is something wrong?"

"You..." Leha started, pointing a finger at me before calming down, "You call me Leha. Leha Cadas."

'Kay-dah', not 'kah-dash'. By now Julie and Ciara were joining us, trying to figure out what was going on, the latter tilting her head in the same way a curious dog does when it hears something it's interested in. Which on Ciara was equally as cute. Leha rolled her eyes.

"Speaking of which," Armen cut in, "Why did you change your name to something so similar? If you were trying to hide your identity, I'm surprised you didn't call yourself something a little less obvious."

Leha glared, powerless to prevent the mage's mirth. It tickled Ciara's funny bone further. The Dalish girl held her sides as she chuckled, chest out. Our dwarven companion bit down a rebuke, and pointed to Julie.

"Say Malika Cadash," Leha commanded, in Orlesian.

"Malika Cadash," Julie repeated, a little bewildered.

Even I frowned at the words, and I wasn't alone. Julie's Orlesian accent was completely unsuited to pronouncing the harsh tones of the name. Like a full-blooded Frenchman doing Shakespeare, for lack of a better comparison.

"Damn," I said, "That explains that."

Leha nodded, as Julie deemed to look faux-insulted. Still, Leha's stock rose in my books. She changed her name so it would be easier for her friend to say it, as well as avoiding having every other Orlesian mangle it at every turn. At least, those were the reasons on the surface. I have little doubt it was a measure of reinvention, now that I had glimpses into why Leha had been in an Orlesian town.

Julie laid her hand on Leha's shoulder. "I don't suppose you're going to tell him about the Carta?" she asked.

Leha shook her head. "Not yet."

Not that I wasn't already fully aware that she was into some shady dealings. People don't just have a network of contacts across Orlais and beyond for no good reason, and Leha wasn't an agent of some other monarch. I had a passing idea of what the Carta was, but we were going to get a little better acquainted in the years to come.

The radio crackled, as someone fiddled with a headset. Someone who didn't know what they were doing, apparently.

"Marquis, Marquise, can you hear me?" said Markham, more loudly than he needed to, "I'm borrowing Lady de Villars' radio."

"We hear you," I replied, "And you don't need to shout. A normal speaking voice will do."

I could hear Soprano's amused snort in the background, followed quickly by a muttered reprimand by De Villars herself. No doubt getting a withering look back for her trouble. Markham further adjusted the mouthpiece, causing still more unnecessary noise.

"Understood," Markham replied, his clipped professional tone returning, "We need to talk. Bring the Marquise, and if the Legion Commander is on hand, you may want to bring him for confirmation."

That sent a shiver through me. Markham wasn't the kind for frivolous complaint. Whatever he wanted to talk about was deadly serious.

"What is it?" I asked.

"I can only explain in person," he replied sharply, "You will want to hurry."

* * *

I made our way through the camp, from our position to the wagons.

The giant spiral we had been travelling finally ended, and even at a distance I could see the offshoots of the Deep Roads to various destinations, most of the tunnels being a good deal more narrow.

There was no shortage of one-room side passages there, and many of our people began occupying them, dragging their sleds and and possessions into them for the first bit of privacy they'd had in weeks. Those that didn't claim the rooms in time simply began bedding down at the left side of the road, as I had arranged from the very beginning of our journey. The middle was for wagons and horses. The right for our troops to move freely, and in this case, myself.

With me went Julie and Korbin. Ciara and Leha ran off to find Armen, who had been the shift commander for the rearguard. The mage had refused to be replaced by De Villars in that duty, no matter how often I asked. Even though the Legion of the Dead and their golems did most of the work back there. I wasn't exactly inclined to order him away, so I let him roll with it. Ciara was a little worried about him, but seemed determined to not show it.

We came up on the 'medical' section quickly, my forethought granting us an easy journey through the thousands of people. We had captured many tents over the course of our campaigns, even grabbing what the Templars had used against us the year before. The canvass surrounding our wounded was hung on rope, slung between wagons to create much larger enclosed spaces. It marked with the flaming eye of the Chantry, just as many of the breastplates used by Mike's troops were.

I saw Markham's hand in it, all the better to keep the germs of the other travellers away while keeping the wounded hidden from sight. By this point, 'germ theory' had taken on a strangely religious slant throughout our movement, Brandon accepting it wholeheartedly and her clerics spreading the concept with her usual fire and brimstone. Our people were obsessively clean by the standards of the rest of Thedas, even among the image-obssessed Orlesians. I thoroughly approved.

We stopped outside the improvised entrance, still not sure what we'd be hearing or seeing. Julie and I became rooted there, looking at each other, suddenly fearing the worst. My insides felt scrambled, until a large slap impacted the small of my back, jarring me.

"What are you doing?" Korbin said, rounding me to walk in, "Standing around out here won't change a thing."

I exchanged a glance with Julie. She seemed to accept that line of thinking, and proceeded in. I followed more reluctantly. I had visited the wounded, of course, but I always felt extremely uncomfortable doing it. Like I was only there out of obligation, because they had been wounded for my cause. I much rather would have liked to get them together for a drink and some good meat, but that was a no-no for Markham.

Inside the hospital space we had been summoned to was about seventy bunks, cloth spread across wooden frames like stretchers with legs, each occupied by a soldier. They were in rows against the back 'wall', the shape of the wagons behind the canvass poking out. Light was provided by more powerful glowstones, ones that put out brighter white light than the orange glow of the tunnels. Markham's healers went about their business, watched over by some of the new Knights Hospitallers, former Templars and some of the more devout Free Army soldiers. Brandon's people, in other words.

Many of the troops sat up, a few even stood and saluted with remarkable vigour. I thought rather unfairly that if they were getting up that fast, maybe they should be back on the line. It should have been a warning to me. I looked for Tam but could not see her, but I spotted her likely location; a corner that had been sectioned off by yet more tent canvass.

Markham himself busied himself with patients, so it was Louise de Villars who greeted us in all her skull-masked, Blondie splendour. She looked completely out of place, given that it was for healing and recovery, not a battlefield. Like she was a Grim Reaper or a death god, hanging around for souls to collect. The skull helmet really didn't help. I wondered if any of the patients thought so too, but realised that it was probably more of an Earth concept.

"Marquis, Marquise," Louise said, saluting close-fisted in the chevalier manner.

"Colonel," Julie replied with a nod, "Why are you still here?"

"The Knight-Master insisted on keeping my radio until you arrived," Louise said, irritating creeping into her tone, "So he could hurry you up if he felt it necessary."

Never let it be said that Markham was a reasonable man, but at least his unreasonableness was always in the service of the people he wished to help.

"Sounds like him," I said flatly.

"I heard that," Markham called from across the room, as he moved to join us, "You came in time, I am glad to not require this to hurry you."

He held up the radio, taking the headset off with one hand, before placing both the box and the headset into Louise's waiting palms. She placed the former back in its place at her hip, by her longsword's scabbard, and removed her masked helmet to place the headset back on, revealing her piercing blue eyes.

Once Louise had her headset back on, I quickly decided to stop her putting on the helmet again. It was one friggin' omen I could do without.

"Do me a favour," I said, "Keep the helmet and mask off for the moment."

The chevalier looked at me like I had spoken Arabic or Klingon for a second, before she looked around her and she realised my objection. Skulls were a symbol of death in Thedas just as much as Earth, even if the Grim Reaper wasn't a thing. She bowed her head, eyes still pointed at me.

"As you wish, Marquis," she said.

"Thanks," I replied, before turning to the healer, "So Markham, I take it that you haven't summoned us here to give us good news."

"Is Tam alright?" Julie added, "Is this about her?"

"We need to speak about the future of everyone in this tent," Markham said, "Come with me." He changed direction on his heels and made for the cordoned off corner, while I frowned deeply at his vagueness. What was he playing at that he couldn't just tell us? The sense of anticipation was killing me.

We followed him, de Villars not taking the hint and coming along too. I didn't have the time to tell her to beat it, I only noticed as I was entering the cordon. I wasn't comfortable with the Colonel's presence, but that feeling was soon deflected. Tam immediately sat up in her cot, laying on half the furs from our bed-chest and dressed in light linen clothes... Her face was grave, eyes barely acknowledging us before darting to the floor.

I sensed something was terribly wrong and so did Julie. We rushed over, brushing past Markham roughly. Yet when we approached, nothing seemed to be wrong with her. She was fully alert, she seemed to be moving just fine, and she didn't have a fever or Julie would have said something after taking her hand.

"What's wrong?" Julie asked Tam, "What is wrong with you?"

Tam opened her mouth to speak, finally removing her stare from the floor. Markham beat her to the chase.

"She's sick," the healer said sharply in Common, "They all are." Tam closed her mouth again, as he glared. It was entirely unlike her to be cowed in such a manner. Startlingly so.

"Jesus," I said, "It's bad, isn't it?"

"They have Blight sickness," Markham said, "The condition that arises when the Taint of the darkspawn infects people."

Korbin cursed under his breath, reminding me of his existence. Julie went pale. Louise gripped her sword. I was simply in confusion, not quite understanding the magnitude of the situation.

I knew extensively about how to destroy and contain the Taint, as that is what Armen and I had discussed when we went over the details about travelling the Deep Roads. What we hadn't really talked about was the disease it carried. It was a wasting condition that drove people mad, and then into their graves. That was all the details I needed to hear, and I had ordered Velarana's Aequitarians to the front of our column to deal with it.

"So what about treatment?" I asked, "I have certain medicines that may be able to help." Antibiotics that would expire one day at any rate, although I did not have a lot of them. Certainly not enough for seventy people. Barely enough for one or two.

"There is no cure," Markham replied, "At least, no cure from this world. I would advise waiting to use anything from yours."

"I don't understand," Julie said in Orlesian, her eyes glued to Tam, "She looks fine. I've seen people sick with the Taint. They didn't look like this."

"That is my doing," said Markham in Common, "I have been using a combination of Grey Warden and Dalish herbal-healing techniques to suppress the spread of the disease. Ironic, as we would know nothing about them if it was not for Maric and Alistair Theirin... of Ferelden. Of course, I will run out of ingredients soon... which is why I have summoned Captain Korbin."

"You want me to help?" Korbin asked, "Give up my supply of tinctures?"

"I do," Markham replied, "I understand that you would be vulnerable to the Taint, but we are leaving the Deep Roads tomorrow as you know. You could follow us and return to Orzammar overland."

"And the dead cannot be made casteless," Korbin said, nodding to himself, "Not that Bhelen cares. Aye, that works. Though the supply was running out already."

"We can gather the necessary materials for more on the surface," Markham said with a wave of the hand, "All we need is to get the sick through the next few weeks."

Julie let out a single sob, but composed herself rapidly, her jaw locking as she restrained her tears. This was not the place to show weakness. Not in front of Louise de Villars, and certainly not in front of Korbin. But, the implication of the healer's words were evident to all, he just had the good taste not to just state the reality of the situation. Nor did Julie or I have the courage to ask. I was stunned into silence. The concerned party was the one who did have the heart.

"Tell them how long, _saarebas_ ," Tam said, "The best case scenario. Your talents are enough to make them come true."

Markham frowned, never the man to brag or talk himself up. He wasn't someone who dealt in certainties either.

"Every tainted person reacts differently," he said, "Or perhaps the Taint itself is different. Our soldiers would have died in weeks, but some can live on for years. Some die in hours, but we are not dealing with that type. Luckily, the sickness does not appear to be contagious in this form, or else I never would have let you enter the tent."

"Thank the Maker for the small blessings," Louise said quietly.

"Quite," Markham said, "Without further measures, the sick can live for six months to a year, as long as I have the ingredients I require."

"Six months," Julie said, almost a whisper. She went to Tam and embraced her, burying her head in our lover's shoulder. She wasn't crying... she was just exhausted by the news. Tam returned the embrace, her violet irises pointed at me. I honestly don't know what I looked like at that moment. Just numb, I guess.

But I returned to my senses as I picked up on what Markham had said _exactly._

"Without further measures, you said," I thought aloud, "Do you mean I should use my medicines closer to the end of the six months?"

"I cannot say what your medicine would do," Markham replied, "If I recall their function correctly, they may well be effective. The Taint is not like other diseases, it has a magical element and material from your world has strange reactions to magic in general. If I had to guess, it would suppress the symptoms of the disease, possibly stopping them entirely. But if the magical element was not defeated by it, the corruption of the soul and mind would continue. Your lover would be turned into a ghoul, a slave to the darkspawn that would live for a full lifespan."

In other words, Tam or anyone else I attempted to cure would probably end up wandering off to the Deep Roads, followed by swift re-infection and use by the darkspawn for their purposes.

"Shouldn't we try the antibiotics now then?" I asked, "When the Taint isn't strong?"

"It doesn't work like that," Markham replied, "Already, it is present throughout the bodies of the sick. It is as strong as it is going to be. What changes from this point is the natural element, not the corruption. I would prefer to lengthen a life rather than trying to cure what may be incurable. It is the symptoms that kill, not the corruption, and your medicine is far more likely to cure symptoms."

I had nothing more to say. Trying nearer the end made more sense.

Korbin cleared his throat, earning one of Markham's top shelf glares.

"Now that you're done scaring the life out of them," he said, "Tell them the good news."

The healer's face went stony, eyes narrowing and lips thinning. "I do not believe that it is good news, dwarf," Markham rebuked, "The requirements are not to be taken lightly."

"Tell us," I said, putting my own top shelf glare on, "Now."

De Villars stepped beside me, very pointedly gripping the hilt of her sword. An unnecessary but touching gesture of solidarity. Thanks, Blondie.

Markham was not immune to the fear that many southern mages feel when faced with my wrath. Engrained by centuries of interaction with Templars, no doubt. "There is an order that can help," he said immediately, "The Grey Wardens."

Julie bolted upright from Tam's embrace, and Tam herself straightened at the news.

"How?" I asked, edging closer to the healer.

"The infected can join the order and live," Markham continued quickly, "At least for twenty or thirty more years. The process allows candidates to 'master' the taint, but while they would never admit so, and it is lethal to some. The number of people who become candidates and the number who eventually become Wardens does not align. Those who try to join often never return, and Weisshaupt has no slaves, so they must be dying. The exact process is also entirely unknown to me."

I bit my lip. Twenty years was a whole lot better than six months. There was a creak of wood. Tam stood up from her bed, still showing no signs of sickness or pain, the shallow wound on her back having long been healed shut by magic.

"I know it," Tam said, not clarifying, "I know how it is done. Though I did not know that those already infected could be saved." Being a confidant of the Arishok who had been a companion of Amell quite possibly made Tam one of the leading experts on the secret lore of the Grey Wardens, in fact.

"It is not common knowledge, at least among surface dwellers," Markham conceded, "But as someone who has studied the healing arts, it is in my realm of expertise." He looked to the Legionnaire for acknowledgement of the point.

"The Legion works closely with the Grey Wardens, sometimes we join up after getting Tainted on joint missions," Korbin confirmed, "With the Fereldan ones, actually, as it strengthens the alliance between Bhelen and Alistair."

The chevalier present let out an outraged hiss. "Does that mean you will resist us invading Ferelden?" Louise asked, "Because that is what we are doing." Her accent was as thoroughly outrageous as you would expect. I guess I should thank our lucky stars that our people tend to speak Orlesian, even now.

"Malika tells me you're only passing through," Korbin replied, cool as a cucumber, "Seems to me the Fereldans would be stupid to resist you, and I would be even more stupid to get involved."

"Hatred makes people do stupid things," Julie growled. Summing up the attitude of nearly everyone we were to meet in the coming months, at least in my opinion.

"Yeah, it does," Korbin said, stroking his beard, "But I'm not 'take on thirty thousand with only a few hundred dwarva and some golems' stupid. That's not even counting your mages and Qunari weapons."

The golems would certainly give us a run for our money. Some of them weren't even stone, they were walking _steel._

"We're getting off point," I said, "The Grey Wardens control Amaranthine, so we could just continue as planned... but earlier is better, correct?"

"There's a Warden garrison in Orzammar," Korbin said, "But if you're right about the Fereldans being... stupid, Bhelen won't let you anywhere near the door. Your best bet would be Vigil's Keep. It's a little closer than Amaranthine, and it's the Warden fortress. The Warden-Commander is Orlesian, perhaps she'll be sympathetic."

There was some argument over how much of a deviation from our route it would be. I pulled out the map of Ferelden that I carried around and Korbin pointed out the location of the Fortress, which was very close to the intersection of the Imperial Highway and the so-called Pilgrim's Path that connected the road to Denerim and Amaranthine itself. It was right on our way.

"It's a better chance than anyone had five minutes ago," I said, "It shouldn't delay our march more than a day... and frankly, I expect the King to put up some resistance by the time we get to that part of the journey anyway."

"Will the Grey Wardens let the survivors come with us?" Louise asked, "They are a secretive order, and those who join are expected to leave their past lives, are they not?"

Julie bristled at the suggestion that they might not let Tam and _her_ soldiers leave with the army.

"If they don't like our terms," she spat, "They'll like our cannon even less."

"And they'll have to kill me to prevent me from returning," Tam added.

"They'll definitely try," Korbin grumbled, in a remarkably Leha-like way, "And I understand that. They have secrets, things you will need to know but they cannot let be known outside their ranks."

"I already know much," Tam said, "Perhaps they won't care, when they learn that."

Korbin didn't look like he thought that was the case, his brow creasing at the notion, but he remained silent. He knew we weren't to be talked down to about this. Wise man.

"There is another option," I said, "Tiberius said the Wardens might be interested in a treaty. Every nation has their own section of Grey Wardens, right? Ferelden has one, Orlais has one. Maybe we can negotiate for our people to become the core of our one."

Julie smirked, turning to Tam. "How does 'Warden-Commander' sound as a title?" she asked.

Tam didn't smile back. "It is... better than nothing," she replied, "It is the lessened fertility that I fear."

Louise, Korbin and Markham all glanced at each other. None of them were the settling down, having kids type, to say the least. Neither was Julie, really, though that did her no good ultimately.

Tam very much was. The result of being denied her own children by the Qun, while raising the children of others and delighting in that duty. To Tam, family meant children as much as companionship, in the same way it meant safety and pleasure to Julie. My heart wrenched, and I searched my mind for something to cheer her up. Thankfully, I remembered something.

"Wardens are not barren," I said, "Remember Amell." The Hero of Ferelden was certainly not infertile, after all. If he was, he'd be dead, assuming the witch Morrigan would not have taken Alistair to bed.

"Amell was male," Tam said, "I am not."

"That doesn't matter, to my knowledge," Markham cut in, revealing the academic he was, "The subject of Wardens having children with non-Wardens has been extensively examined by both the Order itself and other authorities. Orlesian imbeciles thought that their noble lines might be strengthened by Grey Warden blood, and the Order wondered if they might increase their numbers during the Fourth Blight through... natural methods. It seems men and women have an equally lesser chance of conceiving."

"And _that_ isn't a secret?" I asked.

"Not since a few Wardens were kidnapped by bards for... experiments," Markham replied, "The Order revealed the truth, so that no one else would try the same. The Circle occasionally got questions about it from nobles wintering in Halamshiral who didn't know any better. I had to dissuade at least two from riding off to Montsimmard to test the theory personally."

Tam seemed to brighten, which relieved the weight off my chest considerably. One of her ambitions had not been crushed entirely, it seems. Louise looked away politely while Korbin watched, earning an amused slap on the back of the helmet from me. Markham looked at all of us with the disapproval of an elder, so it wasn't really much of a change.

"That settles it," I said, sitting down on Tam's cot, "We best hurry to see the Grey Wardens. We've got soldiers to save."

"That we do," Tam replied.

After all, there was no point in saving just her from the fate that would otherwise await. We had to save as many as possible. People were counting on us to do just that.

* * *

Our last day in the Deep Roads was a brief one. It took us only two hours to reach the exit found by the Isolationists previously, and it was largely blocked off by rock and wooden supports. The Fereldans had clearly contrived to block the darkspawn from raiding via that route, particularly as Honnleath had become a prosperous cattle town in the years since.

However, they did about as good a job at it as you'd expect from a pre-industrial culture, that is to say, not sufficient at all. There were enough man-sized holes in the blocking rocks that we could have gotten every person and mount out without issue, but it would take several hours to remove enough rock to move the wagons.

Soprano's Rangers went out first to secure the immediate vicinity of the exit, and when that was done, I ordered that work begin immediately on widening it. Meanwhile, I kept a trickle of troops coming out the entire time, beginning with the chevaliers and lancers, for a very simple reason. The Fereldans had a particular military weakness, as Louise was fond of pointing out:

" _Les chevaux en Ferelden sont les nains._ "

To be less blunt and more accurate, the locals simply didn't have enough horses of the right size to field cavalry in any real numbers. Assuming a lord nearby could intercept us in time, which was already unlikely, any show of heavy and light cavalry working together would undoubtedly send him or her packing without a fight. And just to make sure that was the case, Velarana's Knight-Enchanters also mounted up.

I got my first sight of Ferelden at about noon, the low winter sun pouring in from the north half-blinding me as I ducked out behind both of De Villars and Velarana, Bellona's reins in my hand. I quickly put on my sunglasses, which helped me recover from the continual darkness of the Deep Roads relatively quickly.

The exit pointed eastwards, overlooking the south part of the Hinterlands, the same place where the Inquisition would make its name only a year later. There was no unrest or banditry when we first visited however, just prosperous villages and little farms strung between rocky hilltops, thin forest and thicker shrublands, stretching for dozens of miles until things got swampy near Ostagar. Compared even to the least tame parts of the Dales that I had seen, this was wild.

Everyone else seemed too glad to be out of the underground to notice the beauty. Or perhaps held the entire country in contempt. Orlesian superiority over other nations extended even into the peasant class.

The area close by was the aforementioned thin forest and shrubland, albeit stretching down a not-so-gentle hillside. The ground was grassy rather than rocky. Honnleath was not visible itself, though there was a great deal of smoke rising above the trees and bushes that signalled its presence. Perhaps too much smoke for my liking. It indicated that the village was a much larger settlement than I had anticipated, and that might be a problem. I sent a runner to Colonel Isewen, and she appeared snappily in the company of two of her lancer-sergeants.

"There seems to be a lot of smoke," I said, pointing at the sky, "Take some scouts and report back to me the size of the town."

"Yes, Marquis," Isewen replied quickly, before turning to her subordinates, "Bring Jafane and Lorette, with our mounts." All three rushed away to do as they were commanded.

"Could we not simply go around it?" Velarana asked, leaning on her bladed wooden staff, "It is not as if we will find anything of use here."

"Except a fine opportunity to make a show of force!" Louise responded, "Marquis, we must show our full strength here and place the Fereldans on the back foot. It does not matter how softly we tread, Alistair and Anora will rally the country against us or lose their throne to those that will. If we show we are not to be trifled with and do not commit atrocities, they will take their time to build the largest force they can to oppose us. Time we can use to get to Vigil's Keep, or even Amaranthine itself."

I looked at the chevalier in surprise. The skull mask was back where it belonged, on her head and peering at me. She had obviously put some thought into how we were going to act while in Ferelden, through the lens of politics. Velarana did not have such acumen. Yet. Only at that point did I notice that all of the chevaliers' horses had their full barding and armour on, something that was done only when they were expecting to make a charge against a fortified position.

I sighed, considering both proposals.

Going around would be faster, and it didn't matter how large Honnleath was likely to be, they certainly wouldn't have the manpower to stop us. All of Orlais had been barely enough to contain us. However, we did need to make a statement. That didn't necessarily mean killing people, but we did need to subdue the town.

A thousand mounted troops would do the trick, I had little doubt. I still regarded horses as a little too valuable to waste in battle generally, but their use for shock and awe wasn't something I had a replacement for. We might waste a day or two in _visiting_ the village, but we would gain far more by doing it.

"We'll take the town," I said, "We know it doesn't have a wall, just a couple of wooden watchtowers. When Isewen reports back, we'll form up and charge down the hill straight onto Main Street, burn the towers and run up our flag."

"Yes, my lord," said Velarana and de Villars both. I could practically hear the smile on Blondie's lips. Chevaliers and their glorylust. A word of caution crossed my mind, but there wasn't much point dampening her mood when we were to go to battle.

De Villars shouted for a horseboy to take Bellona away to be prepared for the fight, knowing as she did that I had been concerned before about my mount's lack of protection.

"How long do you think it will be?" said Julie impatiently from behind, "Isewen is a good scout, but this is not Orlais."

I found her holding Revas' reins in one hand and Tam's own in another. Julie herself was fitted out in Earth panoply. She was expecting to join the charge, clearly. More bizarre, Tam wasn't wearing any armour at all, dressed in much the same sort of body-wrap and dark pants that she had been in when we first met. Although she did have her weapons, and Markham's treatment was successful enough that she displayed no sickness.

I grit my teeth, not pleased with the idea of either of them coming along. They weren't trained in horseback fighting, whereas I had put some considerable effort into practising some of the techniques. How to put my objection into words did not come to me, not before Tam made her own known.

"You are not going," said our Qunari lover to Julie, "It isn't your job."

"What?" Julie and I said as one.

"You are not a chevalier," continued Tam, "And I am glad for it."

"Leave us," I said to Louise and Velarana quickly, as our glorious leader turned several shades redder. To their credit, they made themselves scarce with haste. They knew there was a private, heated conversation to come as much as I did. They both went off to organise their troops into lines of battle.

"I'll go if I please!" Julie declared, turning around to mount Revas, "How can I be claim to be a leader if I sit safely at the back in battle!"

Tam reacted, grabbing her into a bear hug from behind.

"Then I'll stop you," she said.

Julie attempted to wriggle free, but let's face it, Tam is Qunari. Not a chance. She quickly realised this, and groaned with frustration. The edge of a laugh escaped my lips at the absurdity of it, or perhaps I was just relieved that both my loved ones wouldn't be in danger. It earned me an angry look.

"A little help?" Julie said, expectant.

"I'd love to," I shrugged, "But I agree with Tam."

Julie resumed her struggling, more as protest than a real attempt to get out of Tam's arms. "I have every right to risk my life too!" she said, "Why are you doing this?"

"My love, please listen," Tam said. Julie stopped moving again, letting Tam release her and explain.

Tam pointed a finger at me. "Sam is our _Arishok_ ," she said, "The fist of our realm. We have both watched him in battle. He was born to do this. It is his purpose."

I was not in fact born to do anything of the sort. Killers are made, mostly, and my country had long perfected the art. But she wasn't wrong about the rush of battle and how I enjoyed it. When I won, at least. I held my tongue, if only to keep the conversation on point.

Julie lips curled with indignation. "I have taken lives too," she said, "I do not shrink from it."

"Nor do I," Tam replied, "But lying in bed over the past few days, I have realised that Sam works best when he does not have to worry about us. The fighting will only get more deadly from now on, and war is a waste of our talents." Modern war was off-putting to many, to say the least.

She placed her hands on both of Julie's shoulders.

"You are far more important," she continued, "You are both _Arigena_ and _Ariqun._ The mind and soul of our army, the creator of weapons and the giver of laws. There will be times that you must show yourself on the field, the critical moments when our entire realm must fight or die. But this is not such a time."

For all the Qun's faults, never let it be said that they didn't have an elegant classification for their leadership. Not that we would be emulating it, but still, it was the main context in which Tam placed her understanding of leadership. Even now, she regards herself as a Tamassran, carrying out her duty. The difference is that with freedom, she chose to extend herself to the entire nation, as well as take advantage of her own personal liberty. That's what she was doing here. Guiding the young movement through its leader, like a teacher and a pupil.

I appreciated the argument Tam was making, so did Julie as a matter of fact... but I also heard Soprano's warning in my head once again. Julie really was important... too important, both to lose and in general.

If I died, I would be a martyr and the resolve of our people would be strengthened, united in grief. If Julie died... there would be a question of who would succeed her. Who knew if a nation yet to be born could remain united in the face of that challenge.

We spent a good deal more time arguing, or at least Julie did, but it was simply the path to her accepting the inevitable.

"Marquis!" Velarana shouted, approaching again with Louise and Soprano in tow, "Isewen is returning!"

Our chief of scouts made her appearance, galloping her horse into our perimeter from between the trees and through the Rangers' barricades. Behind her were the scouts themselves, mounted up. One of them had an arrow in her shoulder where the leather plate-carrier didn't protect as well, blood staining her uniform. Something had gone terribly wrong.

The scouts rejoined the lancers, a couple of the Isolationist mages that had been milling about running to help.

Isewen herself rode right up to us, and dismounted, panting as someone who had just escaped great danger usually did. Before we could ask what happened, she grabbed a fallen tree branch from the ground and indicated for us to watch.

She drew a rough set of boxes, representing settlement blocks.

"This is the village," she said, "About as big as Barris said it would be."

She added double lines blocking off the spaces between the main streets, smaller boxes beyond them, and a second circle of slashes around the whole thing.

"The watchtowers are manned," she said, "There's a small palisade, and they've barricaded off the streets with tables, tipped over wagons... anything they can get their hands on."

"Impossible!" Louise declared, "How could they know we are coming?"

"Perhaps they had a watch on the Deep Roads entrance?" Julie thought aloud, eyes looking up, "It's certainly a precaution I would take."

Isewen shook her head, and began drawing circles surrounding the town.

"It wasn't us they prepared for," she explained, "There's a good two thousand Avvar camped out, trying to get inside."

"Good God," I exclaimed, "They saw you! Soprano, prepare your troops for contact with the enemy!"

"No need," Isewen said, before Soprano could step away, "They thought we were Dalish. Shouted it at us. Doubt they'll be chasing us. Dalish don't have much the Avvars would care about." I suddenly wished Ciara was around to confirm that, but she was by Armen's side in the rearguard underground. No one else seemed to object though, so it seemed likely enough.

"Are you sure they are Avvars?" Velarana said, "Not Fereldans at war with each other?" Spoken as a woman who had never left Orlais.

"Definitely Avvars," Isewen said, "They might have had furs around their shoulders, but every one of them was bare-chested and painted up all white and blue. I grew up in _Les Grandes Collines_ , I know a screaming Avvar bitch when I see one. Or a hundred."

De Villars hummed her agreement. Clearly it was something she had seen before too.

"It does not matter," Julie said, "The Fereldans will come to defend their people, and quickly."

"Arl Teagan is likely already gathering his troops," Louise said, with absolute certainty, "Some of the southern Bannorn will undoubtedly march with him. The Guerrins fought very hard to protect their people during our rule of Ferelden. Teagan is the brother of Queen Rowan herself. He will not tolerate Avvar raiding, and will likely seek to destroy their ability to raid in the future."

"Let them come," Soprano said, "There is no way a single noble could raise an army that could challenge us. Especially not in this country." Ferelden not being heavily populated.

"We can cross that bridge when we come to it," I said, "I don't want the Avvars interrupting our work to clear the rock. And Colonel de Villars was correct before. We must make a show of force. I can think of nothing better than smashing these tribesmen."

"It may buy some goodwill," Tam said, "Perhaps the Fereldans will allow us passage, knowing we have done so."

"Never," Louise responded, "We cannot tell them our intentions, or else they will do everything in their power to stop us reaching Amaranthine. Most will believe they are being invaded, and those that don't will be powerless to stop those that do."

"Where is the treeline relative to the village?" I asked Isewen, cutting off the argument.

"Not far," Isewen replied, "But enough to charge from."

"Excellent," I said, taking the tree branch from her hand and drawing out what I wanted to happen, "Soprano, you're in command here. De Villars, Isewen and Velarana, we are going forward. The Lancers will charge to cut off the roads northeast to Redcliffe and east to the Hinterlands. The Chevaliers and Aequitarians will attack the Avvars more directly."

Varied salutes greeted my order.

"We're going now," I said, "Mount up."

The ad hoc war council dissolved, and the officers dispersed. I turned to Julie and Tam, and planted a single kiss on their foreheads. "Don't worry," I said, "This will be easy."

"Come back alive," Julie replied, "And in one piece."

"He will," Tam consoled, taking her hand again.

With great relief, I strode away.

Towards the lines of the chevaliers and their squires, their standard-bearers still carrying their banners with 'Vice-Regal Guard' written on them. A pleasant surprise awaited me as I came up on Colonel de Villars. Bellona was there with her, kitted out in brand new barding. Fine but sturdy blue material with a golden and red eagle pattern around it covering light chainmail and padding. It was emblazoned with a very good likeness of the Grand Seal of the United States where the material hung beside the horse's front legs, and the United Nations symbol in gold on the same corners over the haunches behind the saddle. No doubt copied from some sketch Julie had of my tattoos.

"This is not the circumstance I wished to give you this," Louise said, "But I understand that it was your birthday yesterday."

It had been, but in the course of getting through the Deep Roads and with the losses of the battle we had fought there, I hadn't even remembered. How could I? Tam was stuck in a damned hospital tent with Blight sickness.

"I thought this an appropriate gift," Louse continued, "I am surprised I am the only one who has done so."

I ran my hand over it, examining the details for a moment.

"I don't know what to say," I said, "It's perfect." I mounted Bellona, stepping up onto the stirrup with anticipation. The Avvars could certainly not harm my horse now.

"Good," Louise said, "There is one other thing." She held out an armoured mask, silver-plated and shaped as a skull, with angular lines. Can you say 'Maximus'?

"It may be out of place in a healer's tent," the chevalier said with mirth, "But here, it is exactly what is needed."

I let out an amused breath, taking the mask. It certainly was. Hoping the psychological effect would help, I took off my Earth-helmet, put on the mask, fixed my radio mouthpiece and replaced the helmet again. The skull shape actually provided better vision than I had expected, but it was still lucky I didn't plan to be shooting on this attack. Instead, I unhooked the mace from my belt and activated my radio.

"Attack elements, sound off," I said.

"Lancers, ready," Isewen reported snappily.

"Aequitarians are mounted," Velarana said, more slowly, "We are ready."

"Vice-Regal Guard, always ready," Louise joked, before drawing her sabre rather theatrically. All her chevaliers shouldered their heavy lances in response.

"Charge only when ordered," I said, "Forward march!"

We moved forwards at walking pace, a great wave of mounted soldiery. The Rangers got out of our way, moving the fallen logs they were using for cover, the sergeants barking to hurry up. We were soon among the trees, advancing.

* * *

What happened that afternoon is remembered among certain people as a divine retribution. I often think it is a great pity that it isn't immortalised in one of the three "Founder Frescos" in the _Palais de la Liberté_ , but it was a relatively small event however glorious. Alas, my own great contribution towards our nationhood and to the frescos was yet to come.

I just think a cavalry charge looks better than what I was eventually depicted doing.

I have participated in a few of them in my time, but Honnleath was the only time we _crept_ up against an enemy we intended to close with. The low bushes and shrubs muffled the hoof-falls of our horses greatly, and the ground was relatively soft for that part of Ferelden in the first place. Many of the trees were evergreen, their needles carpeting the ground. The Avvars weren't exactly being quiet themselves, and we heard them before we saw them. Guttural shouts, cries of pain, and the occasional beat of a war drum echoed through.

Down the hillside we came, keeping up as steady and swift a pace as we could while keeping the lines intact. The radios helped immensely. I was able to call the regiments to speed up or slow down accordingly. I don't think we could have achieved what we did without it. Just another advantage brought from Earth.

I saw the village when we were about two hundred yards out, less than fifty from the treeline.

It was too big to be a village really, yet too small to be a town. What struck me was the difference in architecture. In Orlais, everything might have been primitive, but it was at least partially built of stone and well crafted for it. The buildings in Honnleath weren't much far removed from being wooden huts, except for those on the outskirts. Only the small Chantry chapel looked like it wouldn't fall down if I gave it a good kick. The outer buildings did look far more stout, and had balconies on which there were longbowmen, shooting down at the mobs beyond.

I put the number of Avvars at about two thousand, about double the number of cavalry I had at my disposal, and probably about double the number of people in Honnleath in the first place.

They were real barbarians, almost walking stereotypes.

They were painted as Isewen had described, blue and white all over, yet looked more like bears walking upright courtesy of their universally tall stature and ubiquitous fur pelts. Luckily, fur seemed to be the only form of armour they possessed, as they were as half-naked as Isewen had said too. Their weapons weren't much to shout about either, they had nothing longer than a two-hander and they only seemed to have shortbows. Yet their ferocity as they tried to overwhelm the small town, throwing themselves at the palisade and barricades, told me that they shouldn't be underestimated. Still, they weren't looking in our direction. Not one of them.

Feeling vindicated in my decision to keep our formations together, betting that our slower speed wouldn't get us spotted, I saw that we would take them by surprise.

I gave the order.

There was no sounding of horns to signal the attack, no cries of ' _Liberty or Death!_ ', and no rebel yell. Only a simple command; "When the first rank gets to the treeline, charge." It was passed from Colonel downwards by word of mouth, in barely raised volumes.

Just before we thundered out of the trees, the only thing anyone might have heard was the rustle of the forest. And that could have been anything. Animals, the wind... certainly not nine hundred Orlesian lancers and a hundred mounted Knight-Enchanters. But when we did clear the treeline, the mages throwing up their barriers to protect us from arrows, no one could have mistaken the sound for anything else.

The rumble of our hooves quickly drew attention. The chevaliers and light lancers couched their lances, taking aim. The Orlesian destriers and Dalish coursers found it very easy going, we had the gravity of slope on our side. I followed behind Blondie, alongside the Stars and Stripes, trusting her experience.

The Avvar had no time to disperse, form a rear line, or compose themselves in any other way. A few archers got off shots, but none came for me and the rest were deflected by magic.

The heavy lancers, the chevaliers and their sworn guards, crashed into the barbarians first. Lances shivered off with the first kills, turning men and women into meat on spits. The sabres came out next, and as we reached the deeper parts of the mob, we began hacking people to death as we rode by. Given the manner of our approach, it was a strangely clinical sensation. Sterile. My blood did not rise.

Velarana's mages quickly made their mark on the left, loosing great volleys of magical bolts as they charged home, glistening spirit blades whirring. On the right, Isewen crashed into the Avvars to the west and north west as planned, not quite able to roll over them like we were doing but it hardly mattered. They could see what we were doing elsewhere, and ran in fear, perfect targets for the light cavalry chasing them down.

The Avvars' last stand was quite spectacular. There were mages among them, including a giant hulking beast of a man, who had to be half-kossith or I'm from Timbuktu. Chief shaman, if later reading is correct. Ice magic was their domain, and they had been busy contending with the small number of Templars guarding the main palisade. The rest of their tribesmen soon rallied around these individuals, the giant one especially.

The shamans chanted and threw their arms up over their heads sharply, and their magic created walls of ice, blocking our charge. Our horses jumped and wheeled to avoid the sudden obstacle, our lines crowding. Which was the intention of our enemy. As soon as we were nice and packed in, down came icicles pouring from the sky, a potentially fatal rain. The barriers held for the moment, saving the lives of our riders, but at the expense of some of the horses. Bigger targets.

It is only through a miracle that my mount and I did not die, having no magical protection at all. Bellona was struck on the hindquarter just beside my back, but her new armour saved her from serious injury. She didn't like it one bit, and moved rightwards quickly. Just in time for another icicle to drop exactly where I had been sitting the moment before.

After seeing that, I got Louise to call the retreat and called Velarana for assistance. She seemed to have misinterpreted my call for help. I had wished for her to restore the barriers of the chevaliers as we retreated in disorder. Instead, she led an entire company herself in a renewed attack on the shamans and their icewalls. What happened next was a treat to watch.

The Colonel and her troops rode up to the ice, and Fade-stepped straight out of their saddles through it, shattering it completely and sending their horses bolting away. Finding themselves among the Avvar, their staves burst forth flames and lightning, the barbarians having no equivalent of Templars to stop them. Meanwhile, the best bladesmen among the knight-enchanters stepped up to take on the shamans. A great magical melee began.

It ended with Velarana decapitating the giant shaman with a single stroke of her spirit blade.

That seemed to change matters for all the others. Seeing their leaders killed, both spiritual and military, the remaining Avvars threw down their weapons. Their faith that their gods were with them as shattered as the bodies of their comrades.

Winged Lancers had come down from the Sky and destroyed them.

* * *

 _AUTHOR'S NOTE: I think a lot of people probably saw the Taint thing coming, but I've also had to take liberties with the Grey Warden lore and the geography of Honnleath... though I think the result is pretty good._

 _We learn a good deal more about Leha than we ever have before, and yes, it is final confirmation that Leha could have been the Inquisitor... if Sam hadn't shown up. In fact, I'm having a good bit of fun right now with a dwarf rogue playthrough in her honour. And no, it isn't the only Inquisitor candidate we'll be meeting._

 _And of course, the characters began to fall into their more... natural places. Bah, I can't wait to write the rest of this volume._

 _I will be deciding on the Outlanders story in the next few days, so get your votes in on who you want to read about first. It seems there's more love for the Japanese soldier and the Italian condottiere, but I'll be considering the results from the last poll too, so it's quite close at the moment. Get voting on my profile!_

 _Enjoy._

 _ **Noblescar:** Most people seem to find the story that way. I'm looking for ways to get the word out about this story some more. _

_**Thepkrmgc:** The darkspawn themselves don't even have craftsmen, as far as I know. They loot or get ghouls to smith for them. But yeah, even I can't see them using blackpowder in the same way the Free Army does. Not going to rule it out completely though. _

_**Katkiller-V:** Thanks. Smoke is pretty bad from blackpowder in the open when there's no wind, wasn't too hard to imagine how bad it would be in an enclosed space._

 _ **OnkelJo:** Seems to be the case, yeah. _

_**5 Coloured Walker:** It's not that I didn't like it, it's that it was very difficult to write. I usually write chapters in blocks of a thousand to three thousand words a day. Chapter 39 had me writing three hundred to five hundred a day. I had severe writer's block. I think it was because I really wanted to move the story to Ferelden as quickly as possible. I felt the Deep Roads was more of an entertaining distraction, but it's given me lots of space for character development, so I shouldn't bitch too much._

 _ **OBSERVER01:** Power will be a theme for this volume and the next... Glad you liked it._

 _ **American-Gentlemen96:** Tam had to be injured! Another plot point planned since the beginning, I'm afraid._

 _ **Captain Redshirt:** Richard the Lionheart is correct, though many other kings used it. I'll probably throw in the story of the English men-at-arms at some point in the Outlanders side gig. As for Dwarven politics, there'll be more of that later. Not wrong about it being insane. Bhelen already has the golems, after all. Did I mention the Hero of Ferelden is sorta a dick?_

 _ **Stuilly:** I'm very glad you like it, but I feel I have to address one thing you said._

 _Outlander is not a self-insert, not even slightly. If anything, I wrote it as a foil to the self-insert genre, given that the main character hasn't a clue about the Dragon Age games._

 _Furthermore, I wrote someone who is different to me in as many ways as I could get away with while making it just as easy to write from the first person perspective. Sam is a believer, I am as militant an atheist as they come, Sam is an American, I am not as my British-English spelling clearly shows, Sam's struggled with certain biases in his life, I've never really held that sort of idea and never understood them, I'm a lazy bollocks, Sam's a hard worker. I'm even taller than Sam, and I like to think, a little prettier to look at. Just a tad._

 _If anything, Sam is my version of an idealised American._

 _Or at least, an idealised American of the sort I'm most familiar with. East coast, northerner. Virginia to Maine sort of area. Only other Americans I know well are Californians, and there wasn't a chance in hell I was going to write Sam as a Californian. They're almost their own nation in terms of their attitudes._


	41. Chapter 41: Honnleath

**Chapter Forty-One: Honnleath**

After completing the last chapter, I asked Julie if she would paint a depiction of our charge against the Avvars. She smiled back at me, and said that it was impossible. She hadn't been there, it wouldn't be accurate. I asked if that really mattered. Apparently, it does.

Ha!

The day was not done with us yet. The exact relationship we were to have with the Fereldan people during our short time in their country would begin to form even in the first few hours. To be honest, I think the only way we could have been more provocative was if we had actually burned the town to the ground and sowed its fields with salt.

More interesting perhaps is the other piece of news we received. A great clue in the mystery of my presence on Thedas would reveal itself. The exact place it had in that mystery would only be revealed more than a year later, within the walls of the fortress of Adamant.

* * *

Alas, my part had been done. We had defeated the Avvars, and made such an impression on the Fereldan garrison of Honnleath as you shall see.

Most curiously, it seemed that the force surrounding the village had only been part of the Avvar force. As soon as the survivors surrendered, a thousand or more Avvar revealed themselves, led by yet another giant of a man.

I almost ordered another charge as I saw them come on, afraid that we had been duped, but lucky for everyone involved, I took a quick look through my binoculars. The people coming out of the forest were not just warriors, but families. As you can imagine, Blondie urged me to order an assault any way, impetuous as always and ever suspicious of the intent of the mountain tribes. But the warriors were not in any sort of appreciable line of battle, instead walking alongside the non-combatants. Needless to say, whatever remained of my oaths wouldn't permit me to attack.

Something was off about the whole thing as well, something I couldn't put my finger on. I didn't have time to waste investigating it right at that moment however, so I ordered Velarana and the Aequitarians to hold the prisoners and the newcomers to the east of the village. They had brought their own camp equipment, and quickly began creating their tribal settlement, while the healers went about the business of looking to the large numbers of wounded.

The reason for my lack of time to understand this whole problem came marching down the mountain forthwith.

The Rangers marched in perfect column order, the way cleared by the Isolationists, downing the foliage in the way with magical blasts. At the head was Julie, Tam, and Soprano herself, followed up by Ciara, Armen and Leha. All of them on horseback. Once in the clear, my companions pushed their horses into a canter to join Louise and I, sparing plenty of looks in the direction of the field of dead in the process.

"I see you've been having fun," Armen smirked, getting the first word in.

"Yeah, a real party," I replied flatly, "They fell easily enough, but they had mages."

"Your orders, my lord?" Soprano asked, cutting in to avoid any more idle chit-chat preventing her from doing her job.

"Take the Rangers to the northwest," I said, craning in the saddle and pointing the way I meant, "Relieve Isewen and the Lancers, and push up the road a couple of miles. We'll be camping on it for the night."

"Understood," Soprano said quickly, before bolting off back to her troops. Soon, the whole column was galloping past the stunned Avvars, seemingly amazed at the number of horses. Orlais had enough stud farms to outfit the entire continent, truth be told. Not just for riding. They ate horse meat too.

It tastes like lean beef, in case you haven't had the pleasure.

"Are those the ones that survived?" Ciara asked, nodding towards the Avvar encampment.

"Not entirely," I said, wheeling Bellona around to join her, "We routed the ones that were down here, then almost twice as many just... showed up afterwards. Not even looking for a fight, came down with their tents and totems, no order at all."

"Something is truly wrong," Louise complained, "They have some plot, some strategem. The Avvars I know would not simply give up. They would flee to fight another day, or attempt to hold the road." The narrow passage, barely qualifying as a road to begin with, was flanked on either side by ridgelines that could easily be occupied by archers. Or even just people throwing large rocks. Against foes lacking cannon, it would have been very effective.

"Perhaps the Avvars on this side of the Frostbacks are different," Leha sniffed, "Without Orlesian chevaliers to deal with, they've gone a bit complacent."

Louise hummed her possible agreement with that, if only because it placed a higher value on Orlesian arms than Fereldan ones.

"We'll find out later," Julie said, "For the moment, the army is moving out of the caves." She was right. Even now, the first battalions of our pike and crossbow troops were moving in good order out of the trees. I quickly changed channels on my radio, to find Mike doing an excellent job of coordinating where they were to go. In short, they were to surround Honnleath and the Avvars.

"That leaves the town to deal with," I said, inspecting the defences once more.

The palisades, balconies and towers remained fully manned. Despite that, and our proximity to them, no arrows came flying to kill us. Yet no calls of parley had come either. It was somewhat confused, as situations go. The inhabitants of Honnleath seemingly had no desire to fight us, having watched us save their town and display great martial prowess, yet they did not want to talk to us. I could only speculate to the reasons why the latter was the case, but I strongly felt that our reputation preceded us. They knew all about Free Orlais. Julie's own efforts had seen to that.

With that in mind, I decided on a course of action.

"I'm going to talk to … them," I said, nodding at the town, "Whoever's in charge over there."

Another idea struck me, and I changed channels once more.

"McNulty, this is Hunt," I said into my mouthpiece, "Can you get Knight-Commander Barris and Grand-Cleric Brandon up here?"

"They've already gone forward, my lord," McNulty replied, "The mother insisted, once she heard there was fighting. The Templars and the clerics should be down in a few minutes."

"Copy," I replied, before turning to Blondie, "Prepare an honour guard, Colonel."

Louise inclined her head in acknowledgement, and rode off to her chevaliers to arrange the least bloodied for the task. I took off the skull mask I still had on, noting that no one had commented on it, and tucked it inside my armour. I looked at myself a little closer, and found that I wasn't particularly blood-splattered. Neither was Bellona, her fine barding mostly clean. Didn't want to upset the locals.

I thought myself ready. Someone else thought different.

Tam came up to me atop Fritz, and took my arm.

"You will not go," she declared firmly, "It is not your job."

In retrospect, I probably should have seen this coming. It would hardly be fair to deny Julie the right to fight in battle, only to allow me to conduct diplomacy. For better or worse, Julie was our political leader, not me. It had been her word that had sent us under mountains to Ferelden. That said, it was a good thing that Soprano and McNulty weren't present. I'm sure they would have had pretty sharp objections to putting more power in Julie's hands alone.

"Let me guess," I said, "It's Julie's turn."

Tam smiled warmly, tilting her head like it was obvious. "Indeed," she said, "We must all stride along our own paths."

"How very Qunari of you to say so," Armen cut in, sarcasm at maximum.

"Not everything about the Qun is oppressive," Tam replied happily, "There is something to be said for its order."

"As long as order protects freedom," Julie shrugged, "Why not take the good things?"

"Would certainly help profits," Leha chipped in, "Not having to give backhanders must be a refreshing experience."

Tam shrugged. "Such things are punished harshly, it is true."

She gave me a kiss on the cheek, before nudging Fritz away again. She had made her point. Having seen just how stubborn Tam was when she insisted that Julie stay behind, I wasn't about to turn around and test her insistence the second time. My stomach was rumbling, further weakening my resolve.

"Ciara, can you do me a favour?" I asked.

"If I can," our Dalish friend replied, "What is it?"

"Don't suppose you could hunt us something for dinner?" I said, "Something fresh."

"There's druffulo in the pen over there," Ciara replied, "Why not slaughter those?"

Honnleath was a big druffulo town, something that Alistair and Anora had seen to after the Blight. Druffulos themselves are cow-sized hogs, as far as I can tell. Delicious meat, too.

"Not a good idea," Julie said, "They belong to the villagers. Not very good to kill animals when you're trying to stay in the good graces of the people who own them."

"They're Fereldans," said Leha with a wave of the hand, "They'll hate you anyway."

Julie sighed, signalling her acceptance that was probably true.

"There has to be something you can get," I said to Ciara, "Nug, maybe?"

"There's always nugs to be found," she nodded back with a grin, "Shouldn't be too hard."

"Great!" I sighed, "We've been eating bread and salted pork for days now, and as much as I like it, I need something different." Not an atypical complaint from any soldier, incidentally. Army food tends to be repetitive at the best of times.

Ciara rode off, unslinging her recurve bow and moving past the Avvars, drawing stares. Why such a sight would be interesting to the tribesmen, I did not know, but I found it strange. Everything about them seemed strange. It would get worse soon enough.

The clerics and their Templar escorts made their appearance at last, plodding out of the forest along the path cut by the mages. They largely made their way towards the wounded, both ours and the Avvars, making to at least look like they were guarding the Isolationist mages doing the preliminary healing. The sisters made good nurses, to their credit.

Through the throng, Brandon and Barris emerged. Both were in good spirits, probably because they were now outside of the damned Deep Roads. As always, they were in robes and plate armour respectively. Neither are particularly famous for a leisurely attitude to protocol. Perfect for what we needed at the time.

"Marquis, you called for us," Barris said, clenching his fist to his chest in salute. I saluted back in the manner of Earth, and inclined my head in greeting to the Grand-Cleric.

"The Marquise is going to meet with the leaders of Honnleath," I said, "I'd appreciate if you escorted her. A high Chantry official and a native son of Ferelden should be able to calm their nerves about our intentions here."

"And help us get some concessions," Julie added quickly, "We are in dire need of certain resources."

Leha nodded sagely, no doubt pleased that her complaints had found traction. She hated being quartermaster. The happier she was, the happier I was.

"A wonderful idea, Marquis," Brandon beamed, "I am glad you thought of us to aid in such a task!"

"Though I am not sure how much good it will do," Barris frowned, "Meaning no offence, but Fereldans are not likely to cooperate. My own father and brothers will no doubt call their men-at-arms to fight against you, once they get word of our arrival."

"I hope that is not a problem for you," Tam said, with just a pinch of menace.

"I am sworn to the service of the Circle of Hearth," Barris replied, "My loyalty is to the Chantry."

"Why does that matter?" I asked, "The Circle was dissolved by our agreement with de Chalons."

Brandon tutted, wagging her finger and shaking her head.

"Not even Gaspard de Chalons commands the Chantry," she said, pleased with the fact, "The Divine established the Circle of Hearth by holy decree. Neither you nor the Grand-Duke has the power to disestablish it. As such, the Templars and the mages of this army are still the purview of the Circle of Magi at Hearth."

"Even if they are not actually _at Hearth_?" I asked, blinking, "Are you sure you're not a lawyer?"

Brandon laughed heartily. "Nobles often think they can override Chantry decisions," she chuckled, "It is a great pleasure to see their hubris crushed." She closed her fist to illustrate the point, which frighteningly appropriate a gesture from the firebrand-turned-leader.

"The Chantry may have already dissolved our Circle," Armen frowned, "Or even annulled it."

"Doubtful," Brandon replied, "That would mean admitting that the experiment had been a complete failure. There would be unrest across Thedas if they did so. Templars would call it proof that mages cannot be trusted, mages would despair and turn to desperate measures. No, Divine Justinia is more intelligent than that."

"We shall find out," Julie said, "We may not have had news from Val Royeaux for months, but I am sure the Revered Mother here has some idea of what has been going on."

The honour guard of chevaliers soon approached, Louise at their head. I indicated to Julie, and she got the picture immediately. Not sure she liked it, but she knew better by then than to openly question it.

"Even on this quiet corner of Thedas, the Chantry's light falls," Brandon nodded, "Shall we go speak to them?"

Julie held her hand out for Brandon and the Knight-Commander to lead the way, and they did so, moving towards the line of the main thoroughfare of the town. Towards the palisade and barricades. The occupants seemed to flinch, fussing about the people now approaching. It wasn't as if they could loose arrows at a Chantry mother and a Templar, but the fact that the group was quite obviously Orlesian was creating some debate about it. Not hard to tell that from the gesticulating of their leaders, even from a distance.

I watched closely as our delegation were received and taken inside the town, to the Chantry chapel itself. I took that as a good sign, and relaxed.

* * *

It was a number of hours before our people would again emerge from the town, and that was to be expected. Julie, Tam, Leha, Brandon, De Villars and Barris would no doubt be fielding questions from anyone of even mild significance and their dog. With Julie in charge, no doubt they would all be allowed to vent their opinions and frustrations, before she presented a reasonable compromise and threatened utter devastation if it was not accepted.

Our army and the refugees continued to pour out of the Deep Roads and under Fereldan skies. As ordered, they filed around the town towards the road north-west, where the same arrangement as underground would be maintained. At least until we got onto the Imperial Highway. The Legion of the Dead would be the last to leave, Korbin insisting on the dubious honour himself. He owed it to us, as we had killed so many of the darkspawn. Absurd thing to my mind, but I wasn't about to disrupt things to disagree.

In the mean time, Armen and I watched, having little else to do until matters resolved themselves. We passed the time with idle nonsense.

"How long do you think the Fereldans will take to oppose us?" Armen asked, "They don't seem very organised." He tilted his head at the defences nearby, and it was hard to describe them as anything other than makeshift.

"Arl Teagan is marching at us with an army already," I replied, "Well, at the Avvars, but he'll run into us."

"And we'll crush him," said Armen, rolling his eyes, "I mean Alistair and Anora, or another united army."

"Didn't you once say we should swear allegiance to them?" I asked coyly, "That they were good monarchs?"

"That was before all this happened," Armen replied, "Don't change the subject. When do you expect the decisive battle?"

I scratched my head under my helmet, thinking about it. It was about four days to Redcliffe. I thought we'd meet Teagan's forces in about two. From there, it was two days back to Redcliffe, and another five by fast horses to Denerim, assuming the maps were any good. That was when the royal court would learn of our presence. Assuming they had heard of our exile, which was likely, they'd muster immediately. Doing so anywhere but Denerim itself wouldn't have been possible. All roads led there. I gave them two more weeks to get the largest army possible.

"I think we'll get to Vigil's Keep before they show up," I said confidently.

"Oh?" Armen smiled, "Feeling a little cocky, are we?"

"It's simple mathematics," I replied, "No way they can raise an army big enough and fast enough to challenge us before we reach the Grey Wardens."

"I'll take that bet," Armen said, raising his finger, "If you're man enough."

I cursed under my breath. He knew something that I didn't, clearly.

"I'm going to regret this," I said, "But sure, you're on."

"Probably will," Armen accepted, "Bottle of vodka sound good for a wager?"

"Good as any," I said, half distracted. There was a commotion building at the Avvar camp that drew my eye.

A full squad of Rangers, bayonets fixed to their firelances, were attempting to subdue a giant man. Not an easy prospect, as he carried a warhammer over his shoulder that looked like it could crack the skull of an elephant. He was considerably better armoured than many of his counterparts too, having scale-plate across his upper torso and on his arms. The Rangers pointed their blades at him, not wanting to shoot, and he just edged forwards, occasionally slapping the silverite aside, not caring for the little cuts he was getting in the process.

"I wonder what that is about?" Armen said, "He's coming this way. Maybe you better see what he wants."

I glanced at the Avvars behind the ruckus, and agreed with the mage's assessment immediately. All eyes were pointed this way. I felt a shiver of apprehension down my spine, and my jaw set on edge. They were watching something with total attention, and it involved me.

"Fuck," I said loudly, "You're right."

I gave Bellona a tap, and rode towards the giant over the grass, arriving just as he grabbed the muzzle of the nearest firelance with his spare hand. Reinforcements were also arriving, directed by Soprano from afar to aid their beleaguered comrades with the troublemaker, and they began taking up positions to cover him from multiple angles. There were at least twenty spare muzzles ready to send lead minié balls into him by the time I got there.

"Good, I want to talk to you," he said in Common, pointing his warhammer at me briefly. His voice was deep, and his accent was somewhat familiar. English, but what you'd hear from a peasant or an urban worker, not a merchant or noble. I had been expecting Scottish, to be honest. His informal tone was refreshing, at least. First thing was first though.

"Stand down," I ordered in Orlesian, "If he wants to speak to me, let him speak." The soldiers hesitated, moving their weapons the least possible amount to comply, ready to re-engage instantly.

"But, the warhammer..." began one soldier, "What if he..?"

"Then _Monsieur_ Cartier here will turn him into fried meat," I replied in Common, for the Avvar's benefit, "That big chunk of metal won't be much good against lightning bolts."

Armen let a spark fly from his staff for good measure, startling some of our soldiers into complying with my order. Getting out of the way being a good idea.

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," the Avvar giant drawled with amusement, "But I'm not here to hurt you."

"What _are_ you here for?" I asked, "I have people who have fought your kinsmen before, they keep telling me to kill you all. Should I be listening to them?"

"That was foretold," the giant replied, "But you will ignore them, and take a different path. The Lady of the Skies has seen to it."

I raised an eyebrow, unfamiliar with what was clearly a different religious belief. I had thought the Avvars to be more or less Andrastrian, albeit heretical. Maferath was an Avvar, after all. I looked to Armen for clarification.

"One of their most important deities," the mage said, "Goddess of the skies and the dead."

"The mage speaks truthfully," the giant replied, "I am a Sky Watcher, a servant of the Lady. I go where I am needed."

Why a servant of the goddess of the dead was required around Honnleath was obvious. There were a good five hundred corpses laying around, and the process of gathering them had not even begun yet.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Amund," the man replied, "And you are Samuel Hunt, the man delivered to us by the Lady."

I nearly choked with surprise. To think that my name would have spread as far as the wilds of Ferelden! "How do you know my name?" I asked, "Who did you hear it from?"

"You fell from the Sky, did you not?" Amund replied, "It was no mortal who told us it. We don't speak to the lowlanders much. They tend to run away when they see us, for a start."

"I suppose it is true that I fell from the sky," I replied, "Though I wasn't alone in that."

"Told us that too," Amund continued, "But you killed the serpent. Your destiny is much greater."

I held my hands over the back of my neck, wondering what the hell he was talking about.

"Who told you this?" I said.

"The Lady did, of course!" said Amund, raising his eyes upwards, "There were many signs, both in the birds and from the augurs!"

Bird signs and augurs? This was sounding more insane by the second. And I had personally met a dead woman, I had high standards for insanity. I once again glanced in hope to Armen for an explanation.

"Augurs are mages who commune with spirits," he explained, "Their techniques are forbidden to the Chantry, but the Avvars move around too much for the Templars to be interested. Like the Dalish, they're too hard to pin down."

"Naturally, you know all about those techniques," I said flatly.

"Only that they exist," Armen smirked, "Such things have long be of interest to me."

"Don't remind me," I said, "So spirits are telling you who I am?"

Was it the former Baronetess of Ancienmaison herself? I doubted she'd be mistaken for a god, even by a bunch of barbarians.

"No, it was the Lady," Amund insisted, "For months, all our oracles and auguries have said only one thing. A man who was sent from the Sky will come, and the destiny of our tribes are tied up with his will."

This was getting even more bizarre by the second. Suddenly, I was glad that a Chantry sister wasn't in earshot. Such a thing could be attributed to the Maker very easily, but this didn't sound … macro enough for truly divine intervention.

"Then about two weeks ago, the signs changed," Amund continued, "We were commanded to attack this place, that we would face a defeat, but that it would signal the arrival of the man from the Sky."

"Any other prophesies?" Armen replied cheerily, "Perhaps a handsome elven mage will receive a great boon?"

"Don't blaspheme, or I'll squash you," Amund said slowly, "But yes, there was another message. Once, the Avvar people stood on mountains on both sides of the sea, but no more. The man from the Sky, Samuel Hunt, shall take us across the sea and we shall be one with his people."

I pinched the bridge of my nose, as a suspect for this... manipulation finally occurred to me: Tiberius.

I thought the magister had somehow used his powers to summon more forces for me to use. He had the motivation, and to my mind, he was among the few people with the capability. He did not have that power, in reality. The person who had done all this was in fact far more powerful, but again, that's for the chapter on Adamant. Either way, they had delivered to me yet more warriors.

"You want to _join_ us?" I asked, "You do understand that you'd have to abandon many of your... traditions?"

"That means you wouldn't be able to raid and pillage," Armen added sharply.

"The Lady warned us of that too," Amund said, "Which is why there are only two thousand of us and not twenty thousand. Not everyone believed the omens. Not even my own chief did. Let them stay, I say. They're worthless."

Which meant only the true believers were on board. That was a relief of sorts, and although it wasn't the only issue, it did... endear me towards accepting their help.

"I don't have the authority to accept you," I said, "Not alone."

"We'll follow you," Amund said, "The Lady wishes to see the Avvars restored to the other side of the sea. Not you, nor I, nor your fat lowlander lords can stand in the way of that."

I cringed, just imagining how Julie would take that news. Fereldan-Orlesian relations were bad enough for our prospects without adding the reputation of the Avvars to them. I could see Leha pitching fits too. It was another two thousand mouths to feed.

"I'll pass on the message," I said, "Go tell your people that we'll consider your... request fairly."

"Good," said Amund, turning around. He began wandering off, to the great relief of the soldiers that had been standing in his way before. They all looked up at me with new reverence, or confusion. I rubbed my eyes, trying to clear my head, before I noticed them. I didn't need more reverence and confusion was hardly any better.

"He's crazy," I said, "Ignore him."

Apparently, that didn't help.

* * *

I waited until we were around the campfire, well out of earshot of anyone else, to tell the others what Amund the Sky-Watcher had to say. There was to be a war council meeting after dinner, and they needed to know the full details of the events now undoubtedly spreading around the camp.

"They what!" Julie said, after I had related the whole tale, "Do you have any idea what this means?"

I nodded, too busy eating to reply verbally. My companions and I were sat around the campfire by sunset. Ciara had returned and had made some truly great nug stew, which we were all eating with great glee. Similar scenes had played out all through the army. I doubt there were any nugs left in the region for quite some time afterwards. Not sure that hunting them with firelances is entirely fair.

"The Avvars are another enemy of these people!" Julie continued, "All we need to do now is get the Chasind on board! Every noble in Ferelden is going to hurry to oppose us."

"Since when do you care what nobles think?" Armen asked.

"Since we'll have to fight every able-bodied bastard from here to the sea," Leha growled, "Their leaders will whip them up into a frenzy of fear."

"The shadow of the chevaliers' conduct here is long," Tam agreed, before gulping down some stew herself. Indeed it was.

"Shems," Ciara complained, "I don't understand why you have so many different kingdoms."

"The Dalish have different tribes," Leha yawned, "How are you elves superior, exactly?"

"Survival," Ciara replied, pointing at the dwarf with a piece of bread, "We have many tribes so that if humans ever decide to try and wipe us out, they can never catch all our people at once. So we can melt into the landscape and hide."

"I hate to break it to you, Ciara," I said softly, "But you are not Dalish any more. We don't do hiding."

A rumble of agreement came from Tam, her mouth too full to speak to the matter. Ciara herself didn't say anything, but stopped eating and stared into the fire for a few minutes. I felt twinge of guilt in my throat. Pointing out that she was further from home than ever before was perhaps a little harsh, even if it wasn't said maliciously.

"We are moving off the real subject," Julie interrupted, "We have enough trouble without the Avvars coming along!"

I paused, remembering that I hadn't asked a key question about what Julie and Tam had been doing earlier. "The town leaders didn't have anything good to say," I thought aloud, "Did they?"

"That depends," Tam replied, "Does a lot of whining about Fereldan freedom from Orlesian oppression count as good or bad?"

I groaned, feeling quite correctly that such a reaction to our attempts to negotiate was the spectre of things to come.

"They weren't grateful that we saved them?" Armen asked, "I think De Villars and Velarana earned at least a thank you from them!"

"De Villars is a chevalier," Julie said wearily, "And Velarana is an elf mage. How do you think they took it?" And we couldn't hide either fact. Nor would I want to. Both had more than earned their place, and to hell with any Fereldan prick who thought otherwise.

"Didn't we send copies of _Le Sens Commun_ to Ferelden?" said Armen, "I thought our ideas would have had more traction here than this!"

"I'm sure there are many copies in Denerim and Amaranthine," Julie replied, "But not many can read in Honnleath, as far as I can tell."

"No organised education system," Tam confirmed, drawing on her intelligence of non-Qun societies, "Fundamental schooling outside of religious service is only available through private tutors. The Arishok views this as an obstacle to conquering Ferelden."

"You'd think a country full of ignorant savages would be easier to conquer," Armen mused.

I snorted. "Shows what you know," I said, "Ignorant savages are plenty capable of fighting back." Which was a problem we ourselves would be getting to experience in the coming weeks.

"The Qun does not consider a place conquered so easily," Tam added, "Most people must embrace the Qunari way. There was considerable trouble in Rivain getting the people to sit still long enough to explain the ideas. Much force had to be used. Many minds were deformed with qamek."

"Force requiring soldiers that might be needed elsewhere," I said, completing the Arishok's thought.

"Which was why I was hoping we could agree to _something_ with the elders," Julie said, "If we could just show that we aren't here to enslave the country, maybe we won't have to fight anyone... They refused to sell us a single gruffulo or a single kilogram of lead."

Lead being important. We had plentiful blackpowder. What was really at a premium was lead for bullets. The battle in the Deep Roads had depleted one third of our stock of them, but had barely made a dent in our powder supply. It wasn't like it was rare to find, no one knew it was a brain poison back then so it was used quite often.

"They refused to do anything for us?" I said, "After we came charging down to help them?" I was tempted to order the barricades stormed, out of spite as much as necessity.

"I think they were afraid," Tam said, "Think about it... if they had helped us, what would the rest of Ferelden think? They would undoubtedly be branded traitors."

"Brandon and De Villars had more to do with it," Julie said, shaking her head, "I don't think a Grand-Cleric has ever set foot in that town. De Villars is a name well-remembered in this part of the country. Her grandfather and grand-uncle were involved with fighting the rebels. Helping any old Orlesians, fine, they could get away with it. Helping chevaliers and high Orlesian chantry mothers? They're traitors."

"In that case, what harm can we do?" I said, "The Avvars seem to think I'm their damned messiah, I say we let them come along. I need to find out who told them to follow me, the only way I can is if they come. They'll try to regardless of what we decide."

Namely, I needed to discover if it was Tiberius' handiwork. I had spoken about that little idea during my explanation.

"Tiberius..." Armen said, "I don't think your theory is very good, Sam. Not even magisters have the power to pretend to be spirits. Communication through the Fade is difficult, you need to use physical devices to make it work reliably." Such as the message crystals in use by both the Circle of Magi and the Tevinter Magisterium.

"Then what the hell is going on?" I said, "Why would spirits consorting with the Avvars know my name? Or better yet, tell them to join me? What's their motivation?"

"I do not know," Armen admitted, "But the other possibilities disturb me."

"What possibilities?" I asked quickly.

The mage stopped himself, his customary smile disappearing.

"Demons," he said, "Some are so powerful, it is perhaps more appropriate to call them malevolent gods. Those that are do not concern themselves with individuals. They will never possess mages, for instance. Such an existence would be too mundane. No, they prefer to manipulate from a distance for their own benefit."

"You're saying a demon is doing this?" Julie asked, "To what end?"

"Depends on what sort of demon it is," Armen replied, not elaborating.

We sat in silence for some time after that, not liking the idea that we were being used by the general forces of evil that might be out there. Or we just wanted to finish eating before our food got cold. Either way, it was a good twenty minutes of munching and slurping, as the sun made its exit and the sky turned a rich inky blue.

The fire began to die, and I reached to the pile of wood to throw another piece into the small pit, when I noticed two pairs of boots standing by it. I looked up at the occupants.

It was the Viddasala and a private of the Free Army, standing together. How they had managed to creep up on me, I do not know, but my first reaction was one of fear. I swung my firelance off my hip and pointed at them, ready to fire. Julie and Leha copied the action with their own weapons. I thought yet another Qunari plot had been initiated, at least at first.

But we all noted some strange things.

The private was bent over, panting heavily, and he had a large bruise on the side of his head. He seemed to be missing his weapon. The Viddasala herself remained bound by the hands, and was the picture of calm. Not what I would associate with an assassination attempt. Didn't lower my weapon though.

"What the hell are you doing?" I asked through my teeth, "Report!"

The private straightened up at the anger in my voice, coming to full attention and saluting. Recognition clicked in my head. He was the same elf that had guarded the prisoners at the ball for Julie and Ciara's inauguration as High and Vice Chancellor. "She's gone, my lord!" he said, "This one said to come tell you at once."

"What?" I said, "Who's gone? Tell me the whole story, from the beginning."

"Tallis," he said, "She got out of her restraints, knocked me out and escaped into the woods!"

"When?" I said.

"About half an hour ago," Viddasala replied, "By now, she is out of your reach."

I finally lowered my weapon, in sheer disbelief. At one time, we had planned to release her, but the potential for interference in our own ambitions was too great to have gone ahead with it. And now she was out there.

"Why do you remain?" Tam asked, looking up from her seat at her fellow Qunari, "You might still have a place, back home."

"You know that is not true," Viddasala said, "My place is here."

"You just sat by and watched Tallis escape?" said Julie, pointing a finger, "Doesn't sound like this is your place."

"I tried to warn your soldiers," Viddasala snapped, "But they wouldn't listen to me."

"We'll verify that," I said, "But that still leaves the question of how she got out of her restraints." The implication being that she had been helped by her compatriot to escape.

"Simple," said the Qunari, "Tallis had sex with this man, and then knocked him out as he reached climax."

I turned to the private, eyebrows raised. At which point, I noticed the bruise on his neck. Tallis liked to bite, apparently. She liked him in general, as I recalled. For his part, the young man looked just as guilty as he was, eyes wide and fearful of what I might do. I wavered between anger at his incompetence and amusement that he had been honeypotted, But I settled on anger in the end, as the whole thing also had the potential to backfire on me.

"Private, report to General Mike immediately," I half-shouted, "Tell her the entire story, leaving out nothing. She will deal with your... discipline issue. Is that understood?"

"Yes, my lord," the private squeaked. He ran off at a full sprint, probably just glad I hadn't shot him on the spot. I didn't exactly have a reputation for mercy for those that crossed me, and we hadn't had any discipline problems on a scale that required my attention before.

"As for you," I said, turning to Viddasala, "How quickly can Tallis get back to the Qun and muster a force to send against us?"

"A month and a half," she replied, "From Kont-Aar to Ferelden's coast."

"Does that sound right?" Julie asked Tam, "Can they really get to us that soon?"

"I am not sure," Tam said, "I was Tamassran, not part of the antaam. There _is_ a fleet and an army at Kont-Aar like she says."

"That's not good," Ciara said, "Does that mean they could attack us before we get across the sea?"

The Viddasala nodded once. It would certainly be a close run thing, if the Qunari military could muster as fast as she said. I had zero problem believing they could, given the regimented nature of their society.

"Well then," I said, hanging my head, "That settles it."

"Settles what?" Leha asked.

"The Avvars come with us," I replied, "We're going to need bodies. The Qunari will show up. We had breathing space before, but now, we officially don't have time to play the nice guys. We have to get to Vigil's Keep, get the Grey Warden cure to the Taint, and take Amaranthine. As soon as possible."

"The Fereldans get in our way, we roll over them."

* * *

 _AUTHOR'S NOTE: Happy New Year to all my readers!_

 _The Outlanders story will be out next, and I've decided on a common theme for all the short stories about the other travellers from Earth. Their stories will not only be about how they survived and settled on Thedas, but how they interacted with Tiberius' ancestors, who were searching for them. I'll close the vote on which you'd prefer to read about first on my profile tomorrow._

 _The next chapter of this story will be titled 'The Sack of Redcliffe'. Look forward to it._

 _ **Thepkrmgc:** Guess, now that you have this chapter to educate you._

 _ **Captain Redshirt:** For argument's sake, let's say that Sam isn't a universal donor. Besides that, it's not like there's an abundance of clean medical equipment around to do a transfusion safely. Ingesting the blood would do nothing._

 _Really looking forward to writing how Alistair and the nobles react. The Grey Wardens even more so. A Hawke will be making an appearance._

 _ **Ssg1:** Internet cookie for recognising the reference._

 _ **Stuilly:** Glad to hear that!_

 _ **OBSERVER01:** There is indeed a Leha subplot coming along._

 _ **5 Coloured Walker:** The fight with the Avvars was supposed to be a complete curbstomp, hence the style of Sam's remembrance of it. Still, might edit it when I get around to the next volume-wide edit._

 _Thanks as always for the review._

 _ **Orco-n7:** Gracias, lad._

 _ **Jordanlink:** What?_

 _ **Guest:** You're probably the first person I've seen say that they found this story via TV Tropes, and I'm suddenly more grateful to Drgyen for making that page as a result! _

_Also, another internet cookie for you. Sabaton is love, Sabaton is life._

 _ **ThedemonlordPingu:** First of all, great nickname._

 _Second of all, stick with it. Heroes have to lose before they win. It's a rule of literature. If you can call this literature._

 _ **Wman243:** I certainly hope so! Welcome to the party._


	42. Chapter 42: The Sack of Redcliffe

**Chapter Forty-Two: The Sack of Redcliffe**

To say that my first visit to Redcliffe was in the winter of 9:39 is not strictly true in the chronological sense. It is according to my own memories, which makes the whole situation all the more infuriating, but regardless of the confusion, it is very much the most important visit. It established the more or less hostile relationship that our great nation has had with Ferelden ever since, despite my great hope that the ire would die with Alistair and Anora.

I hope to set in stone the reasons why I believe what occurred was both unavoidable and unnecessary. I leave it to you, the reader, to decide if I am simply fooling myself.

The crux of the argument is that we saw the bottom of the barrel on far too many essential supplies. I have already mentioned lead for bullets, but that was hardly the only military necessity we were in danger of running out of.

The only people running around in real boots were Julie and I, for instance. While Ciara might have been perfectly happy to go barefoot, not even the other elves were content to do so. Leather was a serious need if we were going to make any sort of real time. Likewise, the horses and ponies needed their own shoes too, and we had ten thousand of them to keep going, or else we couldn't bring the huge amount of food and gunpowder we had on the carts.

Soap was greatly needed and greatly desired too. Keeping our army disease free required it, and Brandon's preaching meant that it was socially undesirable to be caught smelling like a pig for too long. The Fereldans could learn a thing or two from that last bit.

Beyond the military concern about supplies was another that curled up in my mind in particular.

While Leha was busy tearing her hair out over all over the above, I found my thoughts consumed by worries over the expectant mothers in our midst. We were days from running out of salted meats, and they were getting a little ropey to eat regardless. We had no shortage of grain, so no one was going to starve any time soon. The problem is that gruel and bread alone aren't enough for those carrying children. We needed a much more varied diet for them, one that included protein, calcium and vitamins.

Leha, in her fit of pique over my merciful ways, demanded that we raid Honnleath for everything it could provide. The lead piping off the Chantry chapel, the livestock, the smithy's tools and materials, she wanted us to blow through the place like locusts. After a second trip in the early morning by Julie and the Grand-Cleric came up empty, I was sorely tempted to agree.

Armen put a stop to it. He pointed out quite rightly that Honnleath didn't have anything like enough of what we would need, and almost certainly would fail to provide some of the key supplies.

As the army prepared to leave, Julie and I agreed upon the fateful decision, and announced it to the war council. Redcliffe would be stormed. It would have everything we needed, and Arl Teagan would resist us regardless of what we did. I don't think I ever saw a man so at conflict with himself as Barris was when Julie pronounced the judgement. His head remained hung throughout, as I explained the exact plan.

There was another bird I intended to kill with the same stone.

* * *

 _I do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of Free Orlais, and that of its successor states, against all enemies, foreign and domestic;_

 _That I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same;_

 _That I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion;_

 _And that I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of a citizen-soldier._

 _So help me, Lady of the Sky_

The Avvars removed their fists from their chests, having completed the modified oath of allegiance to the Free Army. The necessary first step towards the greater trust I hoped to build. Explaining the second was my task. The rest of the army was filing past, throwing glances at the newcomers from their columns or the wagons. Behind them on the other side of the road, Blondie's chevaliers looked on. For my protection, she said. Whatever made her feel better.

Interestingly, this is the only time in our history where the oath would be administered in the Common tongue, but we'll get to the reasons for that soon enough. The thousand or so remaining warriors had pledged themselves to our cause, although they didn't have their warpaint on. Otherwise, the moment probably would have made it into Julie's paintings.

From the grumbling of Mike beside me, I clearly had a long way to go towards building the trust I wanted.

Though that might have had more to do with the way the Avvars were presenting themselves than any distrust the diminutive general had. They stood in a great cluster, not in the neat ranks that Mike had drummed into everyone from the common peasant to Armen's Libertarian mages. She was as OCD about it as any drill sergeant. It also could have been the other party taking the oath that displeased her.

The Viddasala stood in front of the entire host of Avvars, facing towards us. Compared to them, she was the absolute picture of discipline. No slouching, no wandering eyes, no casual slinging or holding of weapons. It was as if she was a statue of a woman in steel, albeit one with very impressive horns.

I nodded approvingly at the mob.

The other person by my side shifted his considerable weight, as he towered over me.

"They've said the words," Amund stated, "What is next?"

"Discipline," Mike replied in Orlesian, "My most inexperienced soldiers have more unit cohesion than this lot. The Fereldans do have cavalry. Not a lot of it, but enough to see these ones off."

I wrinkled my nose, both at her use of Earth terminology and her presumption to speak for me. Lucky for her, she was exactly right, and I'm not the sort of man to punish a person for speaking out of turn as long as it's the truth.

"Did you get any of that?" I asked Amund, knowing he didn't speak the predominant language of the army.

"The important word," the giant replied, "I know what discipline means, even if you sound like a mouse squeaking when you say it. Should warn you though, most of them won't like fighting like lowlanders."

"We do not fight like lowlanders," Mike said, in accented Common this time, "We do not fight like anybody you have ever seen."

"Your horse-riders seemed familiar enough," Amund replied, "The trick of appearing on the mountain-top was what impressed us." It must have, given their tradition of not surrendering under almost any circumstances.

"You're not going to be fighting in the old way," I said firmly, "The reasons for that are simple. Your ways work in raiding and keeping Ferelden and Orlais away from your mountain camps, but they're not much good for much else. If they were, you'd be the rulers of Ferelden, not the lowlanders."

Amund growled his agreement, no matter how much he didn't like the truth.

"But I fully expect you to keep the ferocity and bravery your people are famous for. I'll be counting on it," I continued, before indicating for the Viddasala to approach. She did so, her previous discipline untarnished except for a quick glance at the towering Amund. Sharing my own thought that the man had kossith blood somewhere down his family tree, no doubt. For Amund's part, he watched her come on with the glazed eyes of indifference.

I held my hand out for her to shake. She looked at it, and got the idea, shaking it with surprisingly meek strength.

"I checked out what you said about what happened last night," I said to her, "You were right. You did try and warn the other sentries about Tallis having sex with her guard. They ignored you."

"For which they'll be digging latrines for the next three months," Mike added with a dastardly grin, "Since that's all they've proven themselves good for." Light punishment really, but we didn't have a prison to toss the idiots into.

"I also know why you did it," I said, "You have no place in the Qun and you wanted a place with us. You won one."

The Viddasala nodded, staring past us, averting her eyes. "I have seen how you use every resource at your disposal," she replied, "You do not mistreat elves, you care deeply for the welfare of your people, and you try to find a role for every single... citizen. I am honoured to join such a movement."

I frowned. She painted us as more or less the same as the Qun. I was far from sure I liked that conclusion. I'm a lot more sure now that I don't like it. An idea came to me to counteract my unease, one I had used before.

"From now on," I said, "Your name is Asala. Your name, not your title or rank. Your name. Got it?" If getting a new name helped Tam in her quest to distance herself from the Qun, it could help another, I figured. 'Vidda' didn't roll off the tongue, so Asala it was.

Asala's hard eyes softened, widening and looking directly into mine for the first time. They watered up, and her jaw moved. She was trying to work out what to say. Of course, I didn't know that Asala has several deep and very complimentary meanings in Qunlat, but I still would have named her that if I did know. I felt a stab of worry, not sure what she was going through.

In the end, I let her sort out her feelings, we didn't have time.

"Amund, who's your most level-headed warrior?" I asked, "Or your best two?"

"Cormac and Aoife," he said, "They both stood their ground against your chevaliers, and somehow didn't die. Not even sure I could have done that."

I let out an amused breath. A target that big, no way Louise's heavy lancers could have missed. "Perfect," I said, "Go get them."

The Avvar Sky-Watcher wandered off to do just that, his giant warhammer balanced on a shoulder as he liked to do. Asala tracked the man with her eyes, a movement so in contrast to her previous reserve that I tilted my head at her in inquiry. She noticed and understood.

"These people we have picked up..." she said, "They seem unruly, chaotic. Is it truly wise to bring them?" She was sniffling slightly afterwards.

I smiled. She had saved me some trouble with that question. "That's why you're here," I said, not elaborating just yet. She seemed to accept it, making her own guesses. Mike gave me a look like she wanted to say something. I waved her off. I had made my decision.

The giant returned with two fur-clothed warriors as ordered, both carrying a sword and shield.

Cormac was almost as large as Amund was, though he was wiry rather than bulky. Aoife was of average height, but was much more akin to the Sky-Watcher in terms of build. Both possessed black hair and grey eyes, but the shapes of their faces told me that they weren't related. Black hair and grey eyes are in fact a common trait among the Avvar, at least on the Fereldan side of the Frostbacks. The Orlesian tribes tend to be blonde and blue-eyed... which probably means that Louise de Villars has significant Avvar blood in her own veins.

They joined Asala in front of us, their attitude attentive but... stunned? Blank? It was hard to tell.

"Here they are," Amund said, "What you need them for?"

"In a few days, we will do battle with a Fereldan army," I said, "This will be a test, both of your skill and whether or not you can fight our way."

I looked over the three leaders.

"Asala, Aoife and Cormac," I said, "You three will be adjutants to the General here." I pointed to Mike. The two Avvars looked the elf over, seeming to conclude that she was worthy with thin smiling lips and small gestures with their hands. Asala already knew her... as a gaoler.

"Mike, turn this rabble into a regiment," I said to her, before turning to Amund, "A _Highlander_ regiment." She knew perfectly well what that meant. She had access to our library, after all.

"Yes, my lord!" Mike said loudly, half-deafening me. She marched off forthwith, seeming the drag the other three along by the gravity of her personality. Her explanations of why it was necessary to make a hand signal when someone of higher rank passed by or gave an order began.

Amund chuckled to himself. "That one is the least Orlesian Orlesian I've ever heard of," he laughed, "Same with the rest of them. What did you do to them to make them so stern?"

The fires of revolution cleanse many things, frivolous idiocy in wartime being among them.

"Clearly, you haven't seen us party," I replied, "Besides, we were exiled from Orlais."

"Doesn't change anything," Amund said, cracking his knuckles, "They were sired in Orlais, they were born in Orlais, they grew off their mothers' tit in Orlais. Not sure why you're saying 'we' though, you're definitely not Orlesian."

"Oh yeah?" I smirked, "I have two lovers, one of whom is supposed to be my wife, I'm marrying another for political power, I think anyone who doesn't clean themselves daily is a savage, and I don't like shitting in the woods. I'm a couple of elf servants short of being a highborn dandy."

Amund laughed harder. "I hope you don't fight like one," he said, "Or else I'll be very disappointed."

"Don't you worry about that," I said.

Mike finally got the entire Avvar mob to salute properly with the help of her new adjutants, and I nodded my goodbyes to Amund before mounting Bellona to join the advance. She had things well in hand, and had impressed the Sky-Watcher. I trusted her to continue in that vein.

* * *

We made contact with Arl Teagan's scouts two days out of Honnleath in the western Hinterlands, but the army they were supposed to be screening for wasn't behind them. Evidently, Tallis hadn't been the only one to slip away in the night from the village. I had thought that blocking the road and putting a watch on the stables would be enough to assure that no word got to the Arl of our advance before he was facing it, but I was clearly wrong.

Thankfully, our Lancers were vastly superior to their Fereldan counterparts, and pushed through to discover what the enemy was up to. Isewen found the Fereldans in full retreat, about six thousand of them. We pressed them hard, reaching Redcliffe on schedule on the fourth day.

The war council the night before finalised my plan for what I hoped would be the briefest of sieges. The next morning, it was put into action.

We encircled Redcliffe, setting camp on the hilltops that surrounded the place, bypassing the main crossroads that would later become a battleground for the templars and a base for the Inquisition. This meant that our civilians weren't in one place, and would be protected at all times by both troops and geography.

I sent Isewen to the east, to watch the roads to Denerim and the Bannorn. I had no doubts that the Arl had sent word to both for reinforcements. There was no way that King Alistair could lead any force in time to save the town, but I wanted to make sure intelligence about the size of our army, the presence of civilians within it, and the number of our cannon didn't make it out.

De Villars had a special task, though Blondie being Blondie, she didn't think it worthy of her very impressive skills. Her chevaliers escorted a battery of Tranquil gunners to the high ground overlooking the harbour and the castle, and dug some fifteen cannons in there to cover the water routes of escape and supply. She wanted to join the assault personally, at my side no less, but this task was perhaps just as important, as you will see.

The Rangers, the Grenadiers and the Aequitarian mages were to be held in reserve, much to the chagrin of their respective commanders. Only McNulty complained aloud though, Soprano and Velarana being far too stoic to do so. I explained the decision by saying that we needed to preserve ammunition for the moment, but in truth, I was afraid that unleashing firelances and mages on the Fereldans this early would spread the idea that we were out to kill everyone.

The assault would be conducted by three regiments, although only one of them really was worthy of that title at the time.

Namely the Templars under Barris, which fought entirely in the Free Orlesian mode by this stage, outfitted as billmen and crossbow troops to fight in a mini-tercio. With them, the Jaderites under Fisher, more or less a mob of well muscled sailors dressed in high quality chainmail, armed with the spare swords and spears we had gathered in the course of the war in Orlais. Both of them had tasks to carry out, once the last group had done the real knifework. I had full confidence that they'd succeed, and said as much to their commanders.

The ones taking the breach would be Highlanders of course, led by Mike personally and accompanied by me.

Of course, all of this was to go into effect only if diplomacy failed. That was by no means certain. Teagan, for all his Fereldan honour and his family links to Queen Rowan, was not known to be an unreasonable man. Barris in particular was convinced that Teagan could be talked into abandoning any irrational defence of the town in favour of declaring it an open city, and providing the resources our army needed in return.

Which was why I found myself in front of the walls of Redcliffe itself with Julie and Barris, under a flag of truce. There was absolutely no reason at that point to throw away negotiation as a tool. We had not yet fought a group of Fereldans larger than two dozen strong, and very few of those had been killed. Julie and I were perfectly happy to at least try to talk to them.

Fereldan readers, pay careful attention. There has been a lot of bullshit written about this moment in history.

I remember riding along the Imperial Highway, all three of us in our best dress, to the agreed parley. All I was thinking about was the ground under Bellona's hooves in great disappointment.

"This is the Imperial Highway?" I said, gesturing to the wide path of broken cobblestones, "What the hell happened?"

"They used the stone to build the defences of Redcliffe," Barris answered, "They needed a wall and a keep more than they needed a fancy looking road. And the space cleared by where it used to be is good enough as a road for most."

It was better than the cart-hewn trails we had to follow to avoid the crossroads, that was for sure, but we would need to revise our estimates of how fast we could travel if the entire country's road system had been looted for material in the same manner.

"Is it like this all the way to Amaranthine?" I complained, "Leha's going to have an episode!"

"That might be funny to watch," Julie cut in, smiling at me from under her blue half-mask, "But only until she explained why exactly that we are screwed." Leha's episodes were a source of great amusement for her, to my great disapproval.

"Only as far as Rainesfere," said Barris, responding to my question, "The Highway is never as large as it is in Orlais, but it won't rattle our bones." The man knew the lay of the land well, he was from the lakeshore himself after all. I gave the man a slap on the shoulder, thanking him as if he had been the man to stop the bastards robbing us of a good road personally.

We rode towards the wall and stopped just out of what we imagined to be the range of the longbows, of which there were many pointing in our general direction. Behind us, the Templars assembled, the Stars and Stripes hanging over them beside the Chantry's banner. On the hills beyond, the cannons stood mute, awaiting the command to batter the wall to dust. Satisfied that we gave off the appropriate response, we waited for the gate to open.

It did, the portcullis rising slowly, and a single figure on horseback emerging from inside the settlement.

Teagan Guerrin was not a young man any more, but he possessed all the reported handsome features. Even I had heard of him, and I was never the one to care about that noble or this noble.

Before we lit the fuse on the civil war, Teagan was Ferelden's ambassador to Orlais. Although he had to return after an incident where he duelled the Empress' bodyguard with feathers of a chevalier, thus disrespecting the entire military establishment, his time in Orlais was very easy to spot. He was one of the best dressed men I had met, clothed in red and orange silks with the sigils of his family and lands along the collar. Pierre des Arbes is the only man I can think of who had better taste.

Most interestingly, Teagan was one of the highest ranking nobles in the entire country, uncle to the previous king and adoptive uncle to King Alistair, the blood of Calenhad thick in his veins, and yet, he famously married a commoner. A blacksmith named Kaitlyn.

I suspect that last detail is the reason why Julie had little problem talking to him. Even I was pleased by the parallel, though my noble blood is in fact zero.

The Arl of Redcliffe and Bann of Rainesfere rode up, his face blank to the extent I could tell it was by design, and Julie pushed Revas forward a few steps to meet him. He inclined his head in greeting. Julie returned the hello by taking her beret off.

"Arl Guerrin, I am pleased to make your acquaintance," said Julie, sticking to Orlesian, "Do you know who I am? Who we are?"

"I don't think there's a noble in Ferelden who is unaware of who you are," Teagan replied, in perfect Orlesian, "Lady Marquise."

"That will make things easy," Julie said, "You recognise Knight-Commander Barris, I hope?"

Teagan looked over at Barris, sparing me a single glance, before returning his eyes to Julie.

"I do," he said, his tone just barely remaining flat, "Vaguely."

Julie nodded. "I hope you understand that he would not be with us if he thought we had ill intentions," she continued, "We wish no harm on Ferelden."

"You are _invaders_ ," Teagan replied icily, "You have entered our realm under arms, under foreign banners, laid siege to one of our most ancient settlements, and you bring with you ideas about the destruction of our monarchy and nobility. Simply put, my lady, I do not believe you wish no harm on Ferelden. Every step you take here is harmful."

Ouch.

I sighed, having seen the defiance coming. The man was right, we were invaders. Barris began to speak, to try to plead otherwise, but Julie held up her hand and he shut up. Her authority, or her perceived authority, was growing, I noted.

"My Lord Arl," Julie replied, "We will be gone from Ferelden by the end of winter. Now, if I wanted to destroy your country, I wouldn't waste time negotiating with you over this. I would smash your wall without a word, I would send my soldiers in to kill everyone inside, I would march our army straight to Denerim and kill the King. Without an heir and without a clear successor, no rebellion could succeed."

We had decided to make sure everyone knew that we had no plans to stay in the country, but we couldn't tell them we would be leaving via Amaranthine's port. The assumption we were to promote was that we would go back to Orlais via Gherlen's Pass.

Julie rode a few steps further, Revas' white form coming alongside Teagan's brown destrier. The Arl didn't look at her, or so much as blink, as she leaned over towards him in the saddle.

"You're right about one thing," she said, "I do bring the destruction of monarchy and nobility. I may not be Ferelden's enemy, but I am _your_ enemy, my lord. Don't dare assume my intentions, or I might confuse you for Ferelden. If you have any honour, you will at least listen to my proposal, to save your vassals from our blades."

Teagan's eyebrows twitched. It was fear, however briefly expressed. I stared at him in surprise. Being openly fearful wasn't his reputation, not by a long shot. He wasn't old enough to have cracked. He had something to protect inside the walls, I realised.

"You called this parley," he said in Common, glaring at her, "What is it you want?"

Julie rode around him, attempting to menace him as she gathered the right words, until she rejoined us. She pursed her lips, examining him.

"You are as I heard," she replied, her accent rolling the trade language as always, "Very well. You will evacuate the town to the castle. Every man, woman and child. In an hour, you open the town gates and retreat with your men to the castle too. You will stay there for two days."

"You want me to surrender the town," Teagan said, "That won't happen."

"My lord," said Barris, interrupting oncoming Julie's rebuke, "If you know who the Marquise is and what she believes, then you have heard of the powerful weapons this army has in its possession, and the many mages that march with it. It would be no dishonour to concede that you have nothing to match them."

"I will not go down in history as the man who surrendered," Teagan spat back, "Not even on the advice of a fellow Fereldan. Even if I did not value my own honour, the other nobles would see that it was the end of my house forever."

Julie turned her head to me. "Sam."

I nudged Bellona forward. "You have one hour before we bombard the walls," I said, "I beg you, get the civilians... the people who aren't going to fight, to that castle. I can't guarantee mercy for anyone who stays on the walls or in the town. Not because we wouldn't grant it, but because I'm not sure we can trust you to respect it."

Teagan narrowed his eyes at me, before they widened with recognition.

"You're him," he said, "The Outlander." He hadn't recognised me. I was dressed as any Orlesian noble, save for my UN beret. I didn't look like an alien.

I groaned, turning Bellona about. That subject wasn't one I wanted to banter about. Julie repeated that there was one hour until we began our attack, as I rode back towards the Templars. We had tried. Perhaps we could have told him _why_ we needed to take his town, but giving him the chance to dump all the lead, smithy tools and the contents of the apothecaries into the lake wasn't something we could risk.

The conversation was over.

As you can see, no threats to burn down the town, kill the men, rape the women and children, et cetera, were made. Despite popular belief in Ferelden.

* * *

There was a more lighthearted event to come before we got to the blood.

With an hour before the attack, the pre-battle rituals of precaution began.

The Avvar Highlanders and the men of Jader moved up beside the Templars to wait, in eyeshot of the enemy. I spent a good thirty minutes watching the walls in front of the assembled force. Unfortunately, there was no sign that the longbowmen on the top of them had withdrawn. Since Redcliffe sits along the cliff-face and the walls are mostly at the top, they also blocked the view of the town. The construction of the wall itself didn't seem particularly strong, but I could pick out the carved former sections of the Highway through my binoculars.

"What are you looking for?" came a familiar voice from behind.

Tam quickly threaded her arms under my own, folding them over my chest and placing her head on my shoulder.

"He's looking to see if they're running," Julie's voice added, before the woman herself appeared with Leha. Neither in armour, although Julie had found her British firelance somewhere, it was slung over her shoulder, and she had lost her mask.

"Yeah," I said softly, "No chance. Teagan is stubborn."

"He's also afraid of something," Julie added. I put down my binos.

"Caught that, did you?" I asked.

Julie shrugged. "His face was like stone until I made a personal threat."

"He's afraid for his wife and kids," Leha said flippantly, "Like any man."

"He doesn't have kids," I said, recalling De Villars' information on him, "Just a wife. As far as anyone knows."

"That's enough," Leha yawned, "Or maybe he kept his spawn hidden. He was ambassador to Orlais, right? I'd keep my kids hidden from that lot until I got as far away from them as possible."

"So would I," Tam rumbled, drawing me closer, "If he was afraid, why did he not agree to your terms?"

"Honour," I said, with absolute certainty, "Blondie said he was one of the nobles backing Alistair even before there was a real chance of him becoming king, all because he and his brother believed that the Calenhad bloodline needed to be on the throne. For honour."

"To value honour over the lives and liberty of your people," Julie said, shaking her head, "To the Void with honour. Nobles make me sick." We had accepted a surrender of our own to save lives, after all.

"Me too," I said wholeheartedly, before checking my watch, "It's almost time."

I slapped Tam's hand lightly to get her to release me, and handed Julie the binos, wandering back to the troops. Towards my own little assault group for the day's action, to be specific, made up Armen, Ciara, Mike, Asala, and the two Avvar adjutants, Aoife and Cormac. Barris and Fisher were off with the Templars and Jaderites in the rear.

Mike, Ciara and Armen were in Earth-kevlar, although Mike's was festooned with stick grenades and cartridge pouches, as well as the firelance cradled in her arms. The stocky she-elf looked like she could take on an entire platoon single handed. Armen and Ciara stuck to their traditional weapons, staff and recurve bow respectively, with daggers for backup. Ciara was sitting on top of my backpack, inspecting her arrows. They looked ready, at least.

Mike snapped to attention, before I told her to be at ease.

Asala and the two Avvars were not, however. The latter were putting blue and white paint onto the former's startlingly naked torso. In fact, the entire Highlander regiment was busy daubing warpaint on each other, the ones nearby giving only the most cursory salutes to me as they saw me. Mike's training hadn't had much time to stick yet by that point, but it was progress in my mind. Asala's eyes looked to me, and I swear, she blushed. A Qunari with personal modesty, I thought, what a novelty. That wasn't why she had, apparently.

I thought about lecturing them on military scheduling, but realised that it would take the cannons a little while to break the walls, so Asala's apparently seemless integration into the Avvar ranks was forgiven. In fact, it reminded me that I was not ready myself. I was still dressed in a fine black cotton shirt and pants made out of I-don't-even-know-what but they were hella comfortable.

Armen, without so much as a second's consideration, commented on just that. "Off to the ball, are you?" he smirked, poking me sharply, "You might look fabulous, but that won't stop a bodkin point."

"Maybe I'll dazzle them into surrender," I shot back, unbuttoning the shirt, "You've got my stuff, right?" Armen nodded.

"Don't dazzle them," Mike said, "I have spent the last few days trying to get them to walk in a straight line together. I'd like to see if they can do it under the right circumstances."

I hummed my agreement. The mage dragged my pack out from under Ciara's butt, my armour, combat webbing and firelance with it. Our Dalish huntress stretched her arms out over her head, still clutching three arrows, and smiled at me.

"I've been talking to these Avvars," she said, "They're all eager to see what you can do. More of the 'chosen one' shit. The big one and Mother Brandon should get a room. They can talk all about how you are the saviour for hours on end, and then make love." She giggled at the thought, whereas I was probably turning a shade of blue. What a terrifying notion.

"We aim to please," I snorted, as Julie, Leha and Tam joined us. They looked at the Avvars with interest, Tam looking over Asala in particular. Our newest Qunari recruit gave a small nod of respect to Tam, sending her whispering to Julie. Speaking the secret language of women, they conspired on something beyond me.

Leha rolled her eyes and came up to me. I grinned at her intolerance.

The whole thing gave me an idea, Asala's participation I mean. I didn't only need to build trust in the Avvars among our refugees, but I also needed the Avvars to trust us, to see us as comrades. Whatever their religious leaders said, I knew that there were doubters that came along out of loyalty or curiosity. So I made a decision.

I tossed my shirt to the ground, quickly changed out of the comfortable pants and into the desert-coloured combat pants. I ignored the t-shirt and shouted at the throng of Avvars.

"Hey!" I said, "Paint me too!"

Every non-Avvar froze in place, acting like I was mad. But the Avvars appreciated it greatly. They looked among themselves, and after some shoving over who got to do it, two emerged from the mob with wooden mixing buckets. Both young women. As tall as Julie. Grey eyes. Black hair. And naked from the waist up, albeit their shoulders were covered with furs and they were painted. They brushed past the others with... indecent enthusiasm.

That had _me_ freezing in place.

Without another word, the two grabbed fistfuls of paint, slapped it on my back and front, and began rubbing it on. After I noticed the look they were giving me, I kept my eyes firmly on the ground, not wanting to see how the others were taking this development. It really didn't help that the Avvars seemed to be _massaging_ the paint into place, rather than just getting on with it. The one behind was going slower, probably looking at my tattoos.

I held my breath, so my thoughts didn't wander.

By the time the painting looked about half-done, Ciara parked herself in my view, with the biggest shit-eating grin, craning her head to see around the body of the Avvar in front. I let out the breath I had been holding in exasperation. She looked like she knew something I didn't. I had to ask, and luckily, the Avvars didn't speak Orlesian.

"Hey, tell me something," I mumbled to her, "Any idea why the hell these two are so damned eager?"

"Oh, I can guess," she said, leaning past and squeezing my cheek, "You Earthlings are pretty. Good skin, good teeth, big and strong. All the girls like you." She gave me a playful slap on the shoulder for good measure, like lacking a collection of interesting skin diseases was a real virtue.

I scoffed, thinking it absurd. More or less anyone from Earth shared those traits, at least those that weren't as fat as a pig. But then, I recalled the strange looks that De Villars, Soprano, Mike, even Brandon occasionally gave me. Not to mention Asala since entering Ferelden. The sort of stare that males are oblivious to, unless they're paying specific attention.

Then there were the male gazes. Let's not even go there. McNulty, you sly dog.

I got a sinking feeling in my gut that Ciara was right. I had to keep my bases covered.

"You sure it isn't some Avvar prophesy?" I asked, with increasing desperation, "Maybe I'm supposed to marry one and the kid will be King of the Mountain or something." As if I didn't have enough trouble with a mistress, a fake-wife-turned-real-wife and a magister fiancé I hadn't met.

Ciara laughed. "Nope, nothing like that," she said, "Not unless they're keeping it a secret." Fuck. I reminded myself to get with Amund after the assault.

The rubbing suddenly got sharper and more... business-like. I looked around at the Avvars, to see what the problem was. And there was Tam, looming over all four of us, arms crossed. Curved dagger inches away from her fingers, ready to draw. Her eyes boring into me like drills. The sinking feeling accelerated, and I had to increase the effort applied to keeping myself standing.

Tam was the possessive one, after all. If Julie, with all her Orlesian enthusiasm for polyamory, wasn't to sleep around, there was no way in hell I was. The restrained breaths behind me were undoubtedly Julie's attempt at stifling laughter.

Ah, to be in love.

Both of the Avvars came forward to do my face, kneading my neck, cheeks and forehead, softly touching up my eyelids. Voila, I was painted up like William damned Wallace. I thanked them with haste, and pulled my armour over my head, not bothering with the t-shirt and jacket despite the cold, followed by the combat webbing and my firelance. Figured that there was no point covering up more than that, after what I had just been through. It's not like a jacket could stop arrows.

"Having fun, my lord?" asked Mike, making her reappearance.

"He is," said Julie with amusement.

"Too much," Leha grumbled. Out of jealousy. Korbin was a day's march behind us, so the Legion wouldn't be confused as part of our army.

"Maybe I should put on war paint too?" Armen mused, earning a smack on the helmet from Ciara.

Still, I think the whole episode relieved a lot of tension over the battle to come, so at the end of the day, I had achieved exactly what I had set out to do in getting painted up in the first place.

"You haven't seen fun yet," I said, checking my watch, "It's time, General. Stand to."

" _Formez les rangs!_ " Mike shouted, her voice carrying with its usual strength. The two Avvars who had painted me spared me a longing look, setting their older compatriots Aoife and Cormac laughing as all four of them ran off to join the surprisingly neat formation of warriors. They might salute like a bunch of slovenly muppets, but they sure as shit formed a line of battle like they had been born to it. Asala approached and nodded to Mike, the two sharing a moment of professional appreciation.

I slapped my hands together and rubbed warmth into them for a moment, very pleased at this development. I activated my radio.

"Attack elements," I said, "Sound off." More or less standard procedure.

"Highlanders, ready," said Mike beside me.

"Templars, ready," Barris said.

"We're ready too," Fisher said on behalf of the Jaderites, more uncertainly. I put the hesitation down to his less than military bearing, and took him at his word.

"Batteries two and three, ready to commence," droned Locke, the Tranquil in charge of the artillery.

"Alrighty then," I said, pulling on gloves, "Artillery, fire at designated targets."

The gunners had been ordered to load five minutes before zero hour, and were ready to shoot. From two hilltops to the rear, the cannons thundered in a steady beat. The bolts whirled through the air above us to either side, the Fire Wyrm's Call announcing to all what was happening. The solid rounds smacked into the wall, the crack of the rock whipping out. The face began to collapse, sending those manning the defences scrambling away.

No match for cannon, I thought, but it would still take a while to rubble enough of the thing to make a wide enough breach.

A great cheer erupted from the Avvar, this being the first time they had ever seen blackpowder weapons in action. Their shields and swords raised, they roared insults towards the defenders and encouragements to their comrades. Including me.

At least I knew I had their loyalty.

* * *

It took ten minutes for the first part of the wall to come down completely, and another twenty to reduce the gatehouse and the entire section we intended to enter through. Julie, Tam and Leha eventually went to watch from higher up, leaving us to it.

Once the job was done, I brought my binos up. The Fereldans had fled from sight, clearly liking their chances better in the nooks and crannies of the cliff faces and in the town's streets. Or so it appeared. The problem was that the main thoroughfare snaked down the hillside beyond from where the walls formerly stood, behind a razor-sharp escarpment. But, I didn't have the patience to screw around.

"Advance," I ordered, "Slow march."

The sergeants shouted the command in a clear tone, and the Avvars walked forwards, maintaining their shieldwall. Something they were very good at even if the neat ranks were something new. Mike was out in front of them, firelance at the ready, Asala guarding her back armed in the same way the Avvars were. Satisfied, I turned to Armen and Ciara.

"We're going on ahead," I said, putting on my helmet, "I have a feeling the way isn't wide open."

"Sounds like something for us," Ciara grinned back, nudging Armen forwards.

Together, we jogged until we reached the pile of stone that used to be an impressive enough fortification. I could see over to the path behind it. I selected a nice big rock on the other side, where I could see over the town without being seen from the left, where the path began its way down the hill. I pointed to my two companions, and made the right hand signal. Ciara and Armen climbed the rubble, readying their weapons, Ciara nocking an arrow. Armen gave an A-Okay with his own hand, and I nodded.

The two took two paces forward and turned left, just into view of the road, and loosed their weapons. Ciara's first arrow breathed away, and Armen's lightning crashed down from the skies at random, covering my own move. I broke into a sprint, straight across to the stone, not looking. As I suspected, the arrows of a prepared defence hissed by, just as I made it to cover. A little too close for comfort, in fact.

I checked that the two elves hadn't been hit themselves, and seeing they hadn't, peered around the rock. Ahead was a prepared position, in defiliade... that is to say, they'd hit any large force from the side before it could turn, and there was no way I could call down the cannon on top of it, there was solid rock in the way. At the back, right on the curve of the sharp turn was a half-broken watchtower, manned with longbowmen. In front of it was a barricade of cheval-de-frise, wooden spikes sticking out of a central plank, protecting what had to be at least a thousand men in close formation.

Teagan was no fool. He had bet that the walls would be useless, but that he had far more chances up close. Even the firelancers would have had trouble dealing with such a set up, the turn from the gatehouse meaning they couldn't use the range of their weapons effectively. The longbows would have softened them up for the survivors below to charge home.

I checked and saw that the Avvars were beginning to climb over the rubble themselves.

"Mike, we've got a prepared defensive line around the corner, longbows and barricades," I said over the radio, "We'll cover you, get the Avvars turned around towards the enemy."

"Yes, my lord," Mike replied.

"Marquis, maybe my Templars should go first?" Barris asked, "We have heavy armour, the arrows won't touch us."

"You have your own task, Knight-Commander," Mike retorted, "We need to blood these troops."

"Agreed," I said, stopping the argument before it started, "Move, General. Armen and Ciara, get over here."

I stood up from the rock and took aim with my firelance, the longbows my target. One or two began to point me out to the others from the tower, but I had them cold. I pulled the trigger, my weapon flashed, and a tracer round flew out, piercing the man's chest. Still, the archers stood, nocking arrows. A flick of my thumb, and I switched to full automatic. I laid down a stream into the open spaces of the second floor of the tower, splintering the wooden supports to the inaccessible top floor and perforating more bodies. They finally decided that standing up was a dumb shit move, and I shot until I emptied the magazine to keep it that way.

The pat on my shoulder told me that Armen and Ciara had made it to my back. Nice.

Mike had moved the Avvars double time too, they swung around like a door and their shieldwall was across the road, ending about four feet away from me. The archers were beginning to recover, peeking out from the walls. Giving them time to get their heads together wasn't the plan.

"Highlanders!" I shouted, foregoing the comms, "CHARGE!"

The Avvars didn't know the rebel yell, so their warcry was deep and resounding, sort of like a wave. They moved like a wave too, unstoppable and in perfect harmony as a unit. Mike led the way, the idiot, bayonet fixed. Good thing she had Asala to put a shield in front of her as needed.

The barricade was seized in hands and simply flipped out of the way, off the cliff, by sheer human power. The melee began, those in front concentrating on the fighting, those further back holding their shields over their heads. The Avvars pushed forward, step by step. Elated that I had overcome the first of Teagan's gambits, I pumped my fist in the air in triumph, and prepared to join the fighting, ducking down and reloading.

Arrows hissed down around the rock, skittering off the surface and sticking into the soft mud. I flinched, having no reason before then to think they'd still be aimed at me. Armen gave a throaty laugh at my shock. "You got their attention," he said, "Want me to take care of it?"

"Please," I said, cocking my firelance.

Together, we stood up, and I laid down more bullets to stop the next volley of arrows. The tip of Armen's spear-staff produced a bubble of fire the size of my head. He drew it back and shoved it forwards, and the bubble shot out, over the close quarters fighting. It landed right inside the watchtower, and from there, a gout of flames burst from every inch of the building. The archers jumped away, set ablaze, screaming, falling to their deaths. The survivors rolled about, trying desperately to staunch the fire.

That was... unpleasant. One of the things that hangs around in my dreams, on occasion.

I had hoped the Fereldans below would be sent running at such a sight, but no, they held on. Desperately, stubbornly, irrationally. It made no sense! Were they not afraid of being cooked alive. My head swung around, as I looked for some way to break the stalemate. The Templars and the Men of Jader were filing over the rubble now, but their numbers wouldn't do much good in the enclosed path. Pissed off, I looked down the cliff face, to where the path ran below us. It was too steep to put anyone in armour down it, even though bare trees hugged the sides.

And finally, I saw the reason why the Fereldans were holding out through the branches.

The town was being set on fire.

No doubt those who had stayed behind to stop us were volunteers for what they must have felt was a suicide mission, and they would fight to the very last. Meanwhile, the Arl seemed to have figured out that we wanted supplies, and he was to deny us them. He hadn't started burning down the docks, where the ships and fishing boats remained moored, but they were the least of the prizes we had planned to take that day. I reflected that if we had attacked immediately after the parley, we might have prevented it. It was my fault.

I kicked the rock I had been hiding behind hard, cursing loudly and repeatedly in every language I knew a curse word in.

"My lord?" came Barris' voice, "Are you alright?" He had joined us without my notice, and I turned towards him violently. Fisher was with him, wide-eyed.

"Your countrymen are too smart by half!" I replied through my teeth, "They're burning down the town, we need to get through to it now!"

I activated my comms.

"Mike, use your grenades," I said, "Blow a cart-sized hole through the Fereldans, pour your Avvars into it, and kill them all. They're burning the god damned town." We had thought to keep them for the town itself, where the tangle of buildings might make things difficult.

"Copy," came the ragged reply.

"Come on," I said to my companions, "We need to get ahead of this."

We edged along the top of the cliff face, one behind the other, with me in front, until we reached the point where the turn made the side into a sheer drop. I levelled my firelance and waited for my order to be carried out.

A minute later, I saw the clutch of grenades tossed into the middle of the Fereldans, smoking in the cold air as they flew, before they disappeared into the throng. Seconds later, they exploded with dull thuds among the legs of the enemy. The middle of the Fereldan formation fell onto their stomachs, dead or with limbs lost, the air filled with cries and moans of pain.

Yeah... not a good memory.

The Avvar Highlanders surged forwards, shoving aside those directly in front of the injured and bulging through the gap. Only now did the Fereldans decide to run, but it was their own doom. They didn't have the numbers to cover each other, and the chase was short-lived. Axes and swords fell on unprotected backs, kicks delivered to legs to trip over those fleeing. After that, it was simply a matter of handing out the coup de grace, which was mercy for a lot of those who had been knocked to the ground by their injuries. Swords were thrust through hundreds of hearts, the full weight of those wielding them applied to break through the chainmail and splintmail armour.

My nose and mouth filling with the stench of iron and loosened bowels, I resisted my gag reflex with practised ease dropped down onto the path once more and made my way through the bodies. Armen didn't quite make it, emptying his breakfast onto the ground. Frowning, I gave him my water flask to wash out his mouth, though he wretched afterwards.

The Avvars were a lot quieter now. Most had never seen this sort of combat. They would come to terms with it in time, in their own ways. The lesson that real war is a meatgrinder is always hard.

I found Mike and Asala, splattered with blood. They saluted, sending the entire section of Highlanders doing the same.

"Your orders, my lord?" Asala said, seemingly unaffected by the violence around her. A result of conditioning, according to Tam.

"We follow the plan," I said to the commanders, not really thinking that adding 'good work' was the best thing in the context, "Mike, Highlanders to cover the causeway to the castle. Barris, Templars to the chantries and cover the streets. Fisher, your boys and girls need to get down to the docks and make sure those fires don't destroy the ships. Wounded to the rear."

I didn't wait for their reply, I just started walking swiftly around the curve in the path and down towards the town. I had my own personal mission now. Ciara and Armen followed.

"What about us?" Ciara asked, having to job to keep up with my longer strides.

"We need to save the apothecary supplies," I said, "Or else Tam and a whole bunch of other people might be dead."

I broke into a sprint as the path levelled off and curved away from the cliff. The lingering blood and guts smell finally gave way to acrid smoke, as the fires began to really get burning. I passed by several housing blocks; they didn't have signs advertising any business, so I knew it would be pointless to worry about them. The road split off and went down to the docks at one point. Some of the piers were on fire now, but they looked like they could be saved in time. I pressed on.

At a crossroads with a griffon statue dedicated to the Hero of Ferelden, the merchant district began, and I heard shouting. Using the statue as cover, I came about and aimed at the ruckus.

A group of three soldiers in chainmail with lit torches were arguing with a middle-aged woman, on the doorstep of what had to be the town tavern, a large building with a sign showing a bird and a lantern. I wanted to eliminate the soldiers, but I didn't have a shot that ruled out hitting the woman. Thinking that maybe I could take her alive to get directions to the apothecaries' shops, I began approaching, weapon raised, Ciara and Armen padding softly behind me.

The crackle of the fires were covering our approach well, and the soldiers didn't hear a thing.

"I'm not letting you burn down the tavern!" the woman shouted, "There's nothing the Orlesians need in here anyway!"

"There's ale," the leader of the soldiers said back, "And food. This is your last warning. Get out of our way." He drew his sword. I immediately felt hatred burn up in my throat, strangely enough.

"That won't be necessary!" I called, coming to a halt about twenty yards away.

The woman screamed before the soldiers even got to see me, correctly identifying the man in Avvar warpaint as the enemy. Either the sight of us or the scream, perhaps both, stunned the soldiers. I stitched the leader with two quick shots to the chest, and felt pretty good about it afterwards. His compatriot to the left took a white-fletched arrow to the eye from Ciara, and the soldier on the right didn't glimpse us before Armen struck him with a lightning bolt. They fell dead in a heap over each other.

The woman fell backwards, and began scrambling away like that towards the door, desperately trying to get as far from us as she could. I strode over the heap, and easily caught her by the shoulder, levelling the barrel of my firelance at her torso as a threat.

"Where are the apothecaries' shops?" I asked, "The healers?"

The woman jabbered, blinking and sweating. I gave her time to answer. She didn't seem to be capable of speech, but she pointed at a building across the space, back the way we came. It just looked like a house to me, but it was definitely one of the first buildings set alight telling by the extent of its blaze, so I took her as being sincere. Fear is very good at loosening tongues.

I released my grasp on her clothing. "Get to the Chantry," I told her, "It will be safe there. We will not harm anyone there."

She nodded rapidly, getting to her feet unsteadily but with great speed. She took off in the direction of the nearest chapel. I wished her all the luck in the world with a little wave, and told my companions the good news. Barris and his Templars entered the square as we returned across it.

"There are still soldiers and civilians about," I warned him as I passed by, "Be careful. We're going to try and save the healers' supplies."

"Understood, we'll make sure to think before we act," Barris acknowledged. He urged his troops on faster, following the street the tavern woman had taken.

As we got closer, Armen quickly summoned an ice blast to deal with the external fire on the apothecary's house, hosing it down almost like a real firefighter. Ice wasn't really an element he called on very often, so I was pretty wowed by his technique. Unfortunately, Ciara wandered up to the front door outside of my notice. She kicked in the door, as she had seen me do before. Bad idea.

The fire inside burst forth, throwing her a couple of feet backwards and setting her armour on fire. Armen quickly redirected his magic briefly to save her, as I ran to try and help. Her face was raw red and smoking, burned along her right side, the door having sheltered the other. She groaned, looking up at the sky aimlessly.

"Oh no," said Armen, quickly bringing his healing magic to her face, "No, no, no..."

"Is she going to be fine?" I asked.

Armen bit his tongue, his lips spreading in concentration. "She'll live," she said, "But if I don't keep this healing up, she'll be scarred for life." I knew he would love her regardless, and Ciara wasn't the vain type, but having to live with people looking at you due to such a thing wasn't easy. I had friends back on Earth who lived just such a life. One or two couldn't take it.

"Do what you have to," I said, standing up. Armen thanked me quietly, and threw all his magical power into the spell, the light filling the misty air. He was beyond reaching in such a state.

I watched the apothecary's house, as the roof caved in. There was no saving it now. There was still a chance some of the materials inside were in containers that would save them from the blaze, but I wouldn't be able to find out for some hours.

I fixed my radio mouthpiece, and changed channels. "This is Hunt," I said, "I need Markham down here in the market square near the griffon statue. Ciara's been burned."

"Maker..." Julie replied, "We'll send him right away. Is the town intact?"

"No," I said, "But I think we can get most of what we needed anyway... everything except the herbs to hold off the Taint."

"Oh..." Julie said. We both knew what that might mean.

I felt anger bubble up inside me, and my legs took me almost on their own accord back the way we had come. Through the inferno of the housing district, towards the causeway to Redcliffe Castle. Fisher's men ran past towards the docks. I said nothing to them, but noted it. I continued walking, as if I was in a dream. The haze of the fires helped the effect.

* * *

The Avvars spotted me as I approached, cheering and calling out Mike and Asala to see me. Finally, I arrived at a conclusion. Something I had to do.

"Any sign?" I asked, throwing a look at the castle. It was very large, more or less impregnable without heavy artillery. Which we had.

"None," Mike said.

"I'm going over there," I said.

"You're what?" Asala gasped, "Alone? What for?"

"I need to have words with Teagan," I said, moving through the troops.

"Let me come," Asala said.

"No," I replied.

No one dared contradict me. I was in that mood. I soon found myself walking along the bridge over the section of cliffs, the portcullis of the castle standing wide open. I turned off my radio and pulled off my helmet. The bridge had a great view of the port and the burning town. All the better for my purposes. I reached the middle of the span and stopped, the archers between the crenellations catching my eye.

"TEAGAN GUERRIN!" I shouted, hurting my throat, "GET OUT HERE!"

The man himself appeared seconds later, this time dressed in half-plate and wearing a helmet, a longsword by his side. The Fereldan Mabaris etched onto the shining metal on his chest and painted in red. My blood boiled, but I waited.

"What is it?" he said, as he came up, "Have I wrecked all your well thought out plans?" He wasn't smiling, despite his words of provocation. His tone was resentful.

"You think you're real smart," I snarled, "Sacrificing your own men, so you could organise this... sabotage."

"Your Commoner Marquise is a good liar," Teagan replied, "But it makes no sense for you to waste your time with Redcliffe unless we had something you need. I guessed it was food. Word of your exile arrived from my Orlesian contacts a day before I set out against the Avvars... although perhaps you are an Avvar now? You look like one. Once I found that you had arrived over the Frostbacks, I knew you would need food. No way you could have carried it through those mountain passes."

Assumptions that were dead wrong, thank the Maker.

"You sacrificed your men for nothing," I said.

The Arl's cheeks dropped a few degrees of red. "What?" he asked.

I have to admit taking exquisite pleasure in this moment. Seeing Ciara burned had put the devil in me.

"We didn't come here for food," I said clearly, "We came here for lead, steel and those ships sitting there by the piers." I pointed off to the right, towards the docks. From here, Fisher's men looked like ants swarming over pieces of driftwood, but they had saved the ships from the fires, anchoring them safely in the middle of the harbour. No need for him to know he had succeeded in stopping me from getting what I needed the most, at least from a personal standpoint.

Teagan looked on in complete silence.

"You could have saved every last life in this town and in your army," I said, "If you had only listened to the offer that my dear wife proposed."

Teagan's head dropped, but only for a moment. When it rose again, his eyes were as aflame as the town.

"No, I couldn't have," he said, "Your wife and her army are Orlesian. Ferelden will never accept your presence here, especially now that you've allied with the Avvars. Ferelden will never believe that you are here only until the end of winter. We must fight you."

"Then I will gladly oblige," I said, "If you force me to, I will make this country into a fucking graveyard in order to save my people. Believe, asshole."

The Arl didn't seem to get the exact reference, Andrastians don't have graveyards, but the message got through loud and clear.

"Even if you kill me, more formidable opponents will rise," he said, "King Alistair has fought worse than you. You're only a man."

We stared at each other for several minutes. How could I possibly reply to that? Sure, he was instrumental in defeating the Archdemon, but did I really care? I had weapons that could kill one more or less instantly, and more to the point, I had watched a friend get hurt because of this. Not to mention men and women loyal to me put their lives on the line. Because of this bastard's stubborn national pride.

I was so consumed, that I didn't notice the small figure run up behind him.

"I'll help you, Uncle!" said a child's voice.

A fireball erupted from his side, shooting towards me and splattering across my face. I staggered backwards, my hands flying in front of my eyes by instinct. But seconds later, I felt no pain, and my sight was not gone. I glanced back towards Teagan.

A little girl of about nine or ten years in familiar robes stood in front of him.

"Rowan!" he shouted, "Get back!"

Eamon Guerrin's mage daughter by his dead Orlesian wife, I realised. After the business that had happened in the very castle behind them during the Fifth Blight, the son had been killed... an event which shall intersect with my own tale, as reluctant as I am to tell it.

"How's he not on fire?" little Rowan shot back, ignoring the command, "I've been practicing!"

I walked towards them. Teagan drew his longsword, pulling the girl into cover behind him.

"So this is what you were afraid we would find," I said, "Understandable."

"Keep back, you demon," he growled, as two Templars ran out of the castle to retrieve their charge.

"I am not a demon," I said, crossing my arms, "But this is convenient. Now that you've seen exactly what you're dealing with, I have a message for your king. Stay out of our way. We were not lying when we said that we would be gone by the end of winter."

I looked directly at the little girl. "Good luck, Rowan," I said, "I hope we can meet again."

She stuck her tongue out at me, and hid behind her uncle.

I felt the hatred and anger evaporate in me, an effect that children are uniquely capable of inspiring and with nothing left to say, I wandered back across the bridge.

* * *

 _AUTHOR'S NOTE: A nice, fat 11k chapter for you guys, because this story is going into hiatus until I complete Battlefield 2183. Should only take a month or so. Lots in it for you guys to chew over for a while too. I'll be giving it an edit soon, I just wanted to get it out there quick._

 _In the mean time, the first two chapters of the Outlanders side story are up. The tale of how the First Outlander arrived, Marcus Tiberius Pansa, in particular. I hope you enjoy that._

 _In other news, this story is now on the first page of the Dragon Age part of this site according to followers, which tickles my ego greatly._

 _Enjoy!_

 _ **Katkiller-V:** I hope this lives up to your very fine standards._

 _ **5 Coloured Walker:** Hardball initiated._

 _Mages can take down boats, sure, but it's not a case of boats being utterly defenceless. Mages don't generally have much range to their abilities. Bows, crossbows, ballistas and firearms are generally better. Almost none of the former Circle mages have ever been on a ship either, you have to remember. And the Qunari are the Qunari._

 _ **Sammyboy47:** What I have in mind for the geography of the new country is more or less set now... i.e. where it will be exactly. _

_Free Orlais came to being in a great hurry, so a lot of the necessary stuff didn't get done out of sheer time constraints. Sam did have an intelligence network; Leha's Carta connections. Problem is that they weren't loyal strictly to Free Orlais and they were mostly passing on rumours and some map information, not spying or keeping tabs on the royal military._

 _Law enforcement is a matter that's going to come up in this volume._

 _I considered Gurkhas and Prussians for the side stories. More or less, I decided that they'd end up dead fairly quickly. The German war engineer is Prussian, in fact, but he's from before Prussia became a real power. The Gurkha is also not European, and depending on the era, might not speak a European language. Keijiro spoke English, so he can communicate easily enough. I still might write some chapters for either possibility, but only as one-shots. I needed people who could interact with the existing canon in more interesting ways. There doesn't seem to be places to fit either in. I'm not sure if Nevarra counts as Germany in Thedas, and I have no idea where I'd put a Gurkha._

 _ **Makurayami:** 1\. Yes, there will be migrant Tal Vashoth involved. They're going to the Free Marches, it's more or less inevitable._

 _2\. Haha, Belgium? Not sure that's the comparison I'd make. It isn't the one in my head._

 _ **Thepkrmgc:** The Qunari are the third foe, yes. Looking forward to writing about the new nation, very much so._

 _ **Stormtide Leviathan:** Merci!_

 _ **OBSERVER01:** You've reviewed so many times that my OpenOffice autocompletes your name for me, congrats haha_

 _Yeah, Private Sexy done goofed._


	43. Chapter 43: Broken Circle

**Chapter Forty-Three: Broken Circle**

The army spent the first afternoon and evening of our brief occupation of Redcliffe productively. They started by burning the dead, then putting out fires and gutting the town for everything we needed, the NCOs given extensive lists of anything to look out for. Much of what we needed was unharmed. The tanners' and smithies were typically down by the lake in their own quarter like in most places, where the smell could blow away on the breeze and where water was easily sourced.

Ferelden is and was a country that lives and dies on the export of raw materials. Everything from wood and food, through leather and steel ingots, to rare herbs for everything between healing and aphrodisiacs. Pretty much every piece of leather in the Army had actually come from Redcliffe or Amaranthine originally, the Eastern Dales being far closer to either than the northern plains where such industry dominates in Orlais. Gaspard's chevaliers were also typically ranchers, an irony I'm sure my people would appreciate.

Seeing the two Chantry chapels stripped of their lead piping and external ornaments to make rifle shot was a highlight in an otherwise terrible day, particularly as the two Revered Mothers in the town graciously bowed to Grand-Cleric Brandon's order to allow it. There were actually more Templars in the town than we had with us, another legacy of the events of the Fifth Blight.

Of course, the herbs we needed to fend off the Taint growing through the veins of Tam and the infected Grenadiers, both irreplaceable for different reasons, had burned down. Some of what we needed had been safe in chests, so we managed to retrieve them, but having only part of the ingredients was simply not good enough. Tam had to physically restrain Julie from ordering Redcliffe Castle destroyed by cannonade, which she did with her customary ease. I switched between wanting to order it myself and feeling that Rowan Guerrin shouldn't pay for the sins of her uncle, before settling on the latter.

Compounding my worries was the fact that I had no idea how Ciara was doing. Armen was the only one that Markham had allowed into the medical tent where she was resting. In fact, he had sent a runner with a message making it perfectly clear he didn't care how immune to magic I was, if I darkened the tent entrance, he would blast my ass straight out of it. In retrospect, he was dead right. He didn't need me hovering while he worked. Didn't make me feel any better though.

We left the wagon train outside the walls for the most part, guarded by some of the regular regiments, and brought the civilians into the ashes of the town to sleep for the night. There were still enough useful buildings, and clearing the burned wood to allow tents was easy with so much help to do it. We managed to scrounge even more resources out of it too. The denizens of Redcliffe that had remained in the chapels to hide from us were left there, under the protection of both their own Templars and ours.

The tavern we had saved from being burned turned out to be the only one that had remained standing, and so became our headquarters. The owner returned from the Chantry, suddenly full of confidence now that she was sure we wouldn't kill her, and demanded we pay for everything. The rooms, the ale, the food. We agreed, and booked out the place solid for two days on our own dime, except for the largest room, which Leha paid for out of the treasury for use as a war-room. Needless to say, the tavern lady didn't get near that again for the rest of our stay.

Leha herself would not be staying with us in the tavern that night. The Legion of the Dead had caught up with us during the day, and were camped out a mile or two to the west. Korbin was being careful to avoid looking like he was associating Orzammar with the Free Army, despite our very real cooperation. His tinctures were the only thing keeping those with the Taint alive.

It was due to all these things that I didn't get a very good sleep, curled up with Tam and Julie though I was. Ciara, the Taint, the damn supplies, even the weather as rain battered the town in the night. It all weighed heavily on my mind. I eventually did get to sleep, I was exhausted, but it was late nonetheless.

* * *

I woke up the next day around noon, far later than intended and in a daze, cold enough to regret it. Confused in my half-awake state, I groped around the furs, looking for Tam or Julie. One or both usually a good source of warmth. Neither were present. I found a piece of paper, which I didn't read at once. I gathered the furs around me some more first.

The damn thing was written in that scribbling dwarf script that our entire movement had never really used to begin with, and that I have never entirely got my head around. A joke on Julie's part. I lay deciphering the thing for several minutes before my mind cleared and its meaning did too.

"Enjoy the sleep," I read aloud, "We'll see you later." And then a bunch of details on what they planned to do, most of it their own business, in case I wanted to find them when I got up.

Pleased that I had been allowed my sleep, yet cursing the cold, I got up and tossed some wood into the embers still alive in the fireplace, giving the whole thing a good poke with the crude, dirty metal rod that they had for that purpose. I could have just dressed and got on with things, but the temperature was biting into my bones for some reason. Regardless, the furs kept me until the fire got going again, warming my hands and feet before washing up a little with water and a cloth, then getting into the most fur-lined clothes I had.

Winter was arriving quickly, I thought, more so than I had planned. It would probably only be weeks before the rain turned to snow. Another enemy to fight.

Sighing, I put on my combat webbing by force of habit, grabbed my firelance, and exited, down the corridor, past the two bored looking guards, to the common area.

The hearth there was positively blazing, the entire room smelling of wood smoke and cooking meat and beer. Which explained why it was packed with off-duty soldiers, mud dried on the bottom of their pants but scraped off their footwear. Mostly Rangers, if the firelances stacked in threes by the furthest wall were any evidence. They were all turned towards the fire whether they were sitting or standing at the edges, letting it warm their faces, holding cups of ale.

Away from me, in fact. I watched for a moment, enjoying the scene. Reminded me of my own off hours, when I was just a grunt in Afghanistan. I made to go to the counter to my left, where the landlady was eyeing me, to get something to eat, but Sergeant Shovels spotted me. I stopped dead.

"Atten-tion!" he shouted, "The Marquis is present!"

The entire congregation rose and turned in a great clamour, only the younger heads turning first to see if the sergeant's call was true. They stood and saluted, before keeping their hands to their sides. Eyes watching me, as if for a command. A testament to Mike's success as a training officer. I had already decided on giving the whole army a rest, something they hadn't had since the Wolf's Lair. Besides, I had slept in, wasn't like I could lead by example that day.

"At ease," I said, "As you were."

My soldiers sat down again, sparing me thankful glances and directing less kindly ones at the sergeant. Not that he cared. Nor did I, continuing towards the countertop where the landlady awaited. Dressed a long dress with the sleeves rolled up. Her hands were clean, at least, which is more than you can say for a lot of tavern workers. She quietly awaited my order, eyeing my firelance. She recognised me without the Avvar warpaint.

"Some bread, cheese and meat," I said with maximum politeness, "How much will that be?"

"Four bits," she squeaked back.

I began rummaging in a pocket for the coppers, finding the necessary amount with ease among a fistful of gold and silver coins. Part of my own reserves that I kept on my person. The landlady's look went from fearful, practically chewing off her own lip, to greedy, a faux-smile plastered quickly across any glimpse of the former. I smiled back, amused at how easily a little hold can cheer someone up, and gave her the coppers.

"We do roasts in the evening, m'lord," she added, growing in confidence, "A silver a pop, but very good."

To be honest, the thought of that had me salivating. "Sign me up," I said, practically throwing the silver at her.

"Very good, m'lord," she replied happily, "Come back at about sunset." I gave her a thumbs up, which she raised an eyebrow at, before going back to get my breakfast.

I turned about and leaned back on the counter, watching the room again, hungry as hell. It occurred to me that the whole place could use some music. Taverns like this usually had someone who could play, as I discovered on the march against our Orlesian enemies. I was wondering whether or not to send a runner to the Chantry to ask about it, when my plate arrived. I leaned to the side and began idly cutting the two pieces of bread I had received, wondering why the landlady had gotten clear without even waiting for a thank you.

The reason slid along the bar to sit beside me shortly.

Mariette de Villars was very much Louise's cousin, and yet wasn't. Their physical traits spoke of their common blood, obviously. Blonde hair, blue eyes, tall height for a lady. The grey silk doublet and pants with black hunting boots were also reminiscent of old Skull Mask's restrained colour palette. But Mariette's demeanour spoke of a life far away from hill towns under constant attack by Avvar raiders. Don't get me wrong, Louise was graceful and looked great in a dress. She could play in that world with ease. She was Orlesian nobility. But Louise was a chevalier. A professional field soldier. All the finery was secondary to her life.

Even before I knew Mariette's story, I could tell this was a woman who lived in the world of balls, dinner occasions, palaces. Or, in other words; intrigue and murder among the wealthy. It was the way she carried herself. Her cousin was like me: straight, efficient movements. Mariette practically floated when she walked, never sacrificing an ounce of grace even while running. That was what was required on the battlefields she walked on.

Another form of war required another form of warrior. The bards specialised in it, and Mariette was a harlequin, the bard's militarised sister. This was the woman who had charged my firelance and lived, after all.

So to say I was wary of her was an understatement.

Mariette said nothing while I began making a sandwich, she just watched with those baby blues of hers. I watched right back, pointedly keeping the knife I had used to cut the bread in my hand. I bit into the sandwich and leaned back again, chewing happily.

"Do they always do that?" Mariette asked, "Stand up and make that sign up against their foreheads when you enter a room?"

I swallowed my food a little earlier than I would have liked, and looked at her. She awaited an answer, watching me with raised brow and slightly pursed lips, her hand one over the other. She was acting, I guessed. Wanted something else. It would fit her character. Still, I didn't see the harm in answering.

"And when the other officers enter," I replied, "At least, the Peacekeepers do. The rest of the army have a little less rear echelon manners." They saluted as we passed maybe, but get up from a fire and some ale? Couldn't see many of even Mike's pike and crossbow cohorts doing that with consistency. Those who had been with us the longest probably would, but we had to skip a lot of the formalism when we were training people up. Time constraints required that we concentrate on more directly useful discipline.

"You know the only one who receives such a welcome in Orlais is the Emperor?" Mariette continued, "And the false Empress." This time her eyebrows rose ever higher, her face inching closer to my ear.

I rolled my eyes. To say such a thing was waving red flag to a bull, or so she thought. That she supported Gaspard over Celene. She was testing me.

"They're both false," I shrugged, "Neither have any real right to rule, except they can raise armies to crush people who say so."

"And yet, they do rule," Mariette said softly, "It works."

"Tyranny works," I mused aloud, "Who knew?"

"What do you call everyone standing up for you?" Mariette half-whispered, "How would you describe everyone here hanging on your wife's every word?"

I frowned. We were fleeing a country to get to another, while in hostile territory. It was madness to think we were in this for to have people bowing and scraping at our feet, I thought. We did what we did because we didn't want to live in that sort of world, and I had to be dragged into it once Julie and Armen had already made their move.

"Exceptional people will always rule unexceptional people," she continued, moving still closer, "You are … exceptional by every measure. Deserved of the esteem and loyalty you possess. There is no shame in enjoying it, embracing it."

Ah, I thought, so that is where the conversation was headed.

Mariette quickly plucked the knife from my hand, my only defence at such a short distance gone, twirling it through her fingers in front of me, sending my heart racing with the fear that she'd plant it in my neck. It ended up in the wood of the countertop, leaving it sticking out.

"I know we did not meet in the best circumstances," she whispered, "But if you want to get even, I could do something far more pleasurable than what occurred the last time we were this close. If you would like."

By now, you probably understand that this was a particular vice of mine. The honeypot. I ran my eyes over her, once, mind briefly overtaken by the madness all men possess, but it wasn't very hard to return to something like reason. This was a woman who tried to kill me. This was Louise's cousin. Most importantly, I wasn't exactly lacking for lovers or people I loved. But Mariette crept ever closer, half way to embracing me by the time I snapped out of it. I held her back, gently. Luckily, the only one watching seemed to be the landlady.

"You're good," I said, looking straight at her, "And it was a nice try. But I'm not interested."

Mariette's smile fell away. "Not even a little?" she asked flatly.

"Okay, maybe a little," I smirked back, "You're a beautiful woman. But let's face it. You're in it for the power. You admitted as much."

She proceeded to put on the most Orlesian huff I ever did see, crossing her arms and turning her head away. "You have no idea what you are missing out on, Marquis," she said, "I will not forget this insult."

"Oh, I'm sure you'd find new and interesting ways to please me," I replied laughing, "It's just that we'd both be dead afterwards, and I'd probably feel it justified myself."

"Is your commoner Marquise's wrath really worth missing out on such a thing?" she asked, "Or is it the Qunari you fear?"

"In your case, I'd be far more afraid of Julie," I shrugged, "Besides, it's not just about fear. I care about them. I could not accept your offer and feel good about myself afterwards. Sleeping around like this isn't really how we do things where I am from." I am still amazed at how easily I fell into the current arrangement.

Mariette lay her hand on my arm, eyes wide with something I couldn't identify. "But it is how we do things in Orlais," she said, "Marriage is for increasing our wealth and power, our bodies are for pleasure and connections... Perhaps I could speak to the Marquise. She is Orlesian, and I hear she was once the lover of Baron des Arbes. I am sure she would understand the value of you having a loyal ally in your bed."

My jaw worked a little as I realised what she was doing. She was attempting to apologise as much as she was attempting to work herself into the inner circle of the army leadership. I rubbed my face, frustrated I hadn't seen it before. She was a de Villars above all else. Honour meant something to her, even as an assassin. It is a particular trait of that family to square their political objectives with good conduct, even today.

"I don't think that would be wise," I replied at last, "The Marquise is just as likely to take you to bed herself." And that would be taking advantage, I thought. But the underlying principle didn't really get through.

Mariette smiled, her eyes rolling upwards in thought. "Perhaps I should explore that," she said, "If you are unwilling. I do prefer men, but I get my joy where I can find it."

Now she was just teasing. For her sake, I hoped so. I groaned. There was also Tam. Would she react at all? She was the possessive one, but she also came from a society that understood the need for … relief. I had the sneaking suspicion she would not object as long as permission was sought and boundaries laid, but it wasn't like we were chaste at the time either. All the more reason to avoid the scenario.

Regardless, the whole conversation had diverted me from all my worries for a few minutes, so I found my opinion of Mariette higher than it was before. Deciding to ambush her, I took her hands. She breathed out in surprise.

"You don't need to think about before," I said, referring to the attempted assassination, "I have lots of things to worry about, and you've cheered me up. Help us, and you have a place with us. Got it?" If she was going to be around, I sure as hell wanted her on my side. I could not forgive Asala, and banish Mariette. They had both fought against me. Besides, anyone who can charge a machinegun after seeing what it can do is worthy of respect, and a little bit of fear.

Mariette blinked rapidly, processing what I had just said.

"But I'm not sleeping with you," I added, releasing her hands.

Her smile went up to her eyes at that. "Aha, we shall see," she replied, "You like me."

"I like almost all women," I shrugged back, picking up my sandwich again from the plate, "It's my weakness." I sunk my teeth into it, while Mariette ordered a mug of ale from the landlady. I managed to eat the rest of my breakfast in comfortable silence with the person who had once sunk a poisoned dagger into me. The druffulo and cheddar mixed very well with the rough wholegrain bread, so I felt reinvigorated in no time. The ale was also excellent, and Mariette and I exchanged polite remarks to that effect, as if we hadn't just been discussing a sexual affair.

It was in that state that a very pleasant surprise came.

Ciara and Armen entered, letting in a bluster of wind as they did so, their hair, clothes and cloaks billowing in the draft. They both shut the door behind them firmly, and rubbed their hands together. Just seeing Ciara up and about raised my spirits. I pushed off from the bar and went to them.

She immediately spotted me, and ran over, jumping to hug me. I returned it, glad that she was still alive. We squeezed each other for a few seconds.

"There she is!" I declared, as we broke off.

"Yes, she is," Ciara replied, "Heard you were worried."

"You're damn right! You're alive!" I said, "I hope you're only just up."

"About an hour," Armen said, "Markham made her do all sorts of tests, to make sure her eyes and skin were properly healed."

"Let's take a look," I said.

Ciara craned her neck and closed her eyes, so I could inspect her short tempered Hospitaller had proved his skill once again. The only evidence that she had ever been burned were very fine scars, barely a hair's width each, around her left eyes and cheek. If she had fresh tattoos like other Dalish her age, they might have been more noticeable, but she didn't, so it would take someone really looking to see them. I wondered if Tiberius could remove the scarring entirely with his... more controversial methods, and I nodded, reminding myself to ask him the next time I saw him.

"You should talk to Markham," I said, "And kiss his ass." The man had plenty of casualties to deal with as it was. That he could achieve such miracles in that context was rather amazing.

"Never," Ciara said, slapping my hands away from her face, "He said I didn't need to, as long as I promise not to go jumping into fires again."

"That does sound like him," I laughed, "Better heed that advice. He's one to hold you to promises."

Armen opened his mouth, probably to make some remark about Markham, but noted the presence of Mariette beside me with his eyes. I glanced to her, finding her listening in intently. Ciara soon noticed the exchange too, and looked up at me expectantly. Suddenly, I felt hot. Guilt out of entertaining the younger De Villars' notions. Worse, as Ciara and Mariette were barely a few years apart in age, it seemed even more dirty in my own mind all of a sudden.

"Colonel De Villars' cousin," I explained, "As I'm sure you're aware."

"She's a little close to you," Ciara said, "What does she want?"

"You know you can speak to me directly," Mariette cut in, "I won't bite."

"No, you stab," Ciara replied flatly, "With your shoe, if I recall correctly." I let out an amused snort at that.

"I was just inviting the Marquis to stab me back," Mariette smiled with a flick of the wrist, "With something other than a blade. It's only fair." Leaving little to the imagination where her intentions were concerned.

There was an awkward silence as we all processed her words.

"So she's suicidal," Armen smirked back at me, "Tam out of jealousy, Julie because she's a noble. I'm not sure which is a worse fate, being sliced from neck to belly or suddenly having your blood pouring out of you through fifty holes."

"I would be honoured if the Qunari thought she could best me in a contest of blades," Mariette replied, "As for the Marquise, there's no reason why she couldn't join us in bed."

Armen and Ciara beamed smiles at me, probably looking forward to relaying this whole conversation to Julie and Tam. Honestly, even I found it funny at this point. The presumption of the woman to think to replace Tam was pretty hilarious.

"At least she's not trying to kill me anymore," I offered.

"I'm not sure it's an improvement," Armen said, giving me a slap on the side.

"Orlesian shems," Ciara shook her head, "I'll never understand their obsession with this."

"I've heard fantastical tales of the Dalish myself," Mariette said, winking at the young she-elf, "It is said you perform moonlit orgies in honour of your fallen gods. Are the tales true? I am Andrastian, but maybe we could forget about that for a night?"

Ciara scrunched up her face, going red from chin to the tips of her ears, mouth working as if trying to figure out what to say to that. It was adorable. At least there was one person in my little surrogate family who still had their innocence. I suppose Armen did too, his dirty jokes covering for it. They were the younger two though, which is probably why.

Mariette tilted her head, daring Ciara to respond, suitably satisfied at the effect she had produced. I was quite impressed with it myself. Don't think I had ever seen that shade of red on my friend's face before.

Armen almost choked too when the harlequin's gaze went over him invitingly. "An-anyway," he spluttered, "Julie told us to come see you, said you would want to see Ciara right away."

Glad the subject had changed, however amusing it was, I seized the opportunity.

"She was right," I said simply, "Anything else?"

"Oh yes," Armen said, raising a finger, remembering, "The war council is meeting in an hour."

* * *

While Armen had been at Ciara's bedside, the other leaders of the mage fraternities, which had already begun the transition to their current form as political parties, were in conclave. The cause of this... conspiratorial meeting was our victory. Or rather, some of the spoils of our victory. Together, without Armen, they decided on a course of action. That they did so without the Libertarian leader is … startling. An indication of how far we had come as a society.

And they waited to the last moment to spring it on us.

I showed up at the war room, late after having made the rounds I should have made in the morning. It turned out the generals had largely taken care of everything I had intended to get done, making a colossal waste of official time, but it further chipped away at my malaise about our Tainted soldiers and the lack of things we could do for them.

As previously mentioned, the war room was the largest bedroom of the tavern. The bed frame had been put on its side and shoved against the back wall. One of the large tables from the common area had been carried upstairs and angled through the door to provide somewhere for us to lay our maps. The smaller tables that the room possessed already were packed with other documents, casks of ale, or writing instruments. The small windows had been barred and padlocked, even though it was the top floor of the establishment, for security.

Those present were exactly who you'd expect, to the point that I should mention them as efficently as possible.

The Generals; Mike, McNulty, Soprano.

The Knights: Louise de Villars, Knight-Commander Barris, Knight-Master Markham.

The Specialists: Leha, Colonel Isewen, Fisher.

The First Enchanters: Armen, Velarana, Marable, Valle.

The Hunters: Tam, Ciara, Mariette de Villars.

And finally, I suppose it's fair to describe the last participants as the Leaders: Julie, Grand-Cleric Brandon, and myself.

No one of any real surprise there, except perhaps Mariette, but I suppose she had a perspective worth listening to. In retrospect. All of them were dressed more or less in their uniforms.

To those who know the events that followed this meeting, pay close attention. You'll note a distinct lack of talk about finding new weapons to throw at the Fereldans. The Fereldan military was now of little concern now that we had replenished our ammunition. We didn't need any more firepower than we had. Both the actual and popular historians of Ferelden place far too much emphasis on the place of magic in a battle that came later, and this meeting has been pointed to as some sort of proof that we had planned ahead for such an eventuality.

Incidentally, Julie decided to get the supply situation out of the way first. There wasn't anything interesting said, it was almost all good news. We had secured a significant amount of lead, horse shoes, leather, boots, winter clothing, and a small but nicely varied amount of foodstuffs. It would take another day to properly gather and store it all, but our supply problems were largely at an end for the moment.

Teagan's stratagem had been short notice and as the incident outside the tavern had proven, resisted even by some of his own vassals. The fires that had ravaged the town did not strike with equal fury everywhere. We even found a decent amount of material to make soap with. The thing that we didn't find in great amounts were herbs for healing. Magic was useful, but it was far more effective in conjunction with basic medicine. Especially for the Tainted among us.

That brought us to the next subject, which Leha waded right in to.

"The Legion of the Dead are leaving us," she informed us over the top of her ledger, standing on a box so she had a better view of the table, "Korbin has informed me that the burning of the town means that he cannot be seen even camping near us without fear of association with what happened. They will leave us the Taint-suppressing tinctures that we require, and go tomorrow morning."

A mixed wave of disgust, consternation and disappointment went around the room.

"Surely the brave dwarva do not lay the blame for this atrocity at our feet?" Brandon said rather imperiously, "It was Arl Guerrin who decided to burn the town, we wished to preserve it." All the better to loot it, I thought to myself. Not that we would have taken valuables, merely essentials. I would have preferred to pay, in fact... but we needed our treasury for later.

"I even made sure that the Revered Mothers were aware of this fact," Brandon continued, "The truth must win out."

"It rarely does," I muttered, just loud enough to be heard. Brandon's face darkened, conceding that I might have been right but she didn't like entertaining the thought.

"Korbin thinks it won't matter," Leha replied, "The only reason the Fereldans set the town alight was because we are here. They will blame us, calling Teagan's action as a necessary act of resistance." I couldn't really fault that logic, now that I had experienced the stubbornness of the people in question first hand.

"And he is afraid of dragging his own kingdom into the war," Soprano added.

Leha growled. "Actually, he thinks that bastard Bhelen will intervene," she said, "That there would be an unprecedented opportunity for Orzammar to get Alistair in its debt again. Try and leverage a victory, and gain access to the gunpowder formula afterwards. Korbin made it clear that he won't attack us, he views it as folly to even try with such a small force and that such a decision cannot be made by someone of his rank."

"Can we trust his word?" Julie asked, "I have seen those golems of theirs... They look fearsome."

"We can," Leha insisted, "If anything, he knows the power of our cannons... and he views us as fanatics who will fight to the death."

We all exchanged worried glances at the suggestion, hoping it wasn't as true as Korbin thought. All except Brandon.

"I am glad the master dwarf is aware of our zeal," she puffed up proudly, "After all, Andraste too waged a war for freedom."

Murmurs of agreement made the rounds, more likely to keep the cleric shut up than out of full throated conviction.

"All I care about is that they're leaving the medicine," I said, "Thanks to them, they have given us enough time to save our soldiers from turning into... whatever it is you call the slaves of the darkspawn."

"Ghouls," Tam supplied. Sending a lump down my throat, because she was facing just such a fate.

"Ghouls," I repeated, to clear my airways of the trepidation.

"But it doesn't buy us enough time," Julie said, "We need to move by the fastest route to Vigil's Keep. But there are two roads ahead of us." She nodded at the elder de Villars.

Louise leaned over the table, with a large and detailed map of Ferelden laid over it, and traced the roads with her finger. "One on the western shore of Lake Calenhad, parallel to the Frostbacks, and one on the eastern shore, with the Bannorn on the flank."

I examined the roads in question. They were both marked as the Imperial Highway, and what Barris had told me about the state of the road in the west, I thought I knew what to do.

"Unless I'm missing something, the eastern route is best," I said, "It likely has the most supplies to be gathered along it, we can send outriders into the Bannorn to see how they're reacting to our presence and to give them the impression we're upon them. We avoid needing to cross the Calenhad river. We still have to cross the Dane, but there's no way the Fereldans can get enough forces there in time to stop us. We have the ships to attack them on two fronts."

I'm sure many fantasized about stopping us at the Dane like Loghain Mac Tir had the last time Orlesian arms were active in the country. It would have been pure stupidity. We had artillery and mages, something that the chevaliers had a complete lack of against Mac Tir.

Louise didn't think much of my little scheme however.

"On paper, these roads appear to be the same," she said, pointing between the eastern and western routes, "But they are are not. Both have been looted for stone, so they are not anything like what their counterparts in Orlais. When we were here last time, we repaired much of the network, but it has not been maintained since the end of our rule here. But that only matters on the eastern route." Interesting use of the word 'we' there, I frowned. She was referring to Orlais.

She gestured along it with her gloved hand.

"It's called the Grain Road to those in the western Bannorn and the Hinterlands," she explained, "All the grain and goods wagons to Amaranthine travel on it. Both sides have been stripped of paving to varying degrees, but the eastern road is churned to mud by this time every year."

She pointed to the western route.

"The western route isn't used because of the threat of the Avvar and dragon cultists," she continued, "Not many settlements to hide in either. There is more paving remaining, the ground is firmer as it is more rocky, and it does not see many wagons."

"Dragon cultists?" I asked, "Really?"

"The Hero of Ferelden routed them," Louise said, straightening up again, "But word is that they have returned in the past few years, regrouping south of Haven. They're thought to be plotting to retake the village, but haven't because it has become a Chantry outpost. The Divine and the Fereldan Crown are constructing a great temple on the site of Andraste's Ashes."

"I only wish we could take the army to visit that holy place," Brandon sighed, "But it is a day off of our march each way, and not an easy one as I understand it." I was taken aback by her pragmatic thought on the matter. She was changing as much as any of us were, it seemed. Or bending, at least. Haven probably had no shortage of Templars posted to it.

"I'm glad we do not have to disagree on that," Julie said with a smile.

"Colonel de Villars," Barris asked, moving forward to the table, "How is it you know so much about the roads in this region? Everything you have said is entirely correct. Have you visited regularly?"

Not damned likely, I thought to myself. Chevaliers would not be safe travelling alone in Ferelden.

"Knight-Commander, I do not wish to offend you, but..." Louise said, her mask hiding her smile but her tone of voice revealing it, "I have been preparing to invade Ferelden for most of my life."

"As have I," Mariette admitted, "Uncle Maurice would have been at the forefront of any effort to do so, so he prepared us to aid him on the campaign." That did sound like the man.

Barris' face wove a complex web of emotion for a moment, twisting before settling on exasperation. He was a brave man for standing by his oath when it meant following Orlesians in an invasion of his country, but I guess he understood that it wasn't a permanent occupation, but merely a transit. Unfortunately, things got more complicated than that later.

"Ah," he said, "Then I am glad you got the opportunity under these circumstances, rather than an attempt to take my country for the Empress."

"As am I, Knight-Commander," Louise said graciously.

Mariette joined her cousin's side, with ready access. Wanting to add something herself. "There is another advantage to going west, if we're still on the subject."

"We are," Julie said.

The harlequin inclined her head in thanks, and pointed at the map.

"The western route also makes us appear as if we are heading for Gherlan's Pass," she said, "Back to Orlais. You told the Arl that we would be gone by the end of winter, yes? If we take the western route, it will appear to him and thus to the King and Queen as if we are fulfilling that promise immediately. It may create doubt in the court at Denerim that they need to raise an army to stop us, at least until we turn east again at the northern tip of the lake. At the very least, the conflicting reports will create confusion."

Mariette looked at me. "Your plan to send outriders into the Bannorn would be an excellent move," she said, "But it also could give them cause to unite around their throne, once they decided that they would prefer to fight."

I looked at the map again, tracing the roads around the tear drop shaped blue areas marking the lakes. I saw real value in putting the fear of God into the Fereldans, while attempting to do as little harm to them as possible. I saw far more value in relieving them of their worries, temporarily, making them think twice about whether or not we had any plans of going deeper into their country. Wars are fought in the minds of the combatants as much as on any physical battlefield.

Julie peered at me with her green irises, her silence telling me it was a strictly military problem from her perspective. While there was a political element about what reaction to provoke from the Fereldans, that had more military consequences than immediate political ones.

Our glorious leader knew how to read commoners, but she had no clue how military men would react, and it was they who would be doing the decisionmaking when push came to shove. That they were also nobles complicated her perspective; their world varies startlingly over lines, whereas peasants and merchants everywhere have the fight for survival and prosperity in common. She knew Orlesian nobility best, and even then, only really those of the Eastern Dales.

"The Army will go by the west," I said firmly, "Colonel Isewen, I'm transferring command of the Avvars to you until we are at the north end of the lake. You're going to take them ahead, make sure there aren't any surprises waiting. They should know the lay of the land well."

Isewen bowed her head. "Yes, my lord," she said.

"Marquis," said Louise, "Permission to join them." She was still smarting over not having a role in the assault on the town.

I couldn't see heavy cavalry doing much on rough terrain. That was one aspect of warfare I wasn't really an expert in, but I knew enough to know that armoured knights weren't going to be worth a damn on rough ground and forest. "Denied," I replied, "It doesn't seem likely that we'll meet organised resistance on the road, am I right Knight-Commander?"

"My father can call on a thousand good men," Barris said, "And he has perhaps the largest force on this side of Calenhad. Even if they all rallied together, the local banns couldn't hope to oppose us. I doubt they will even be able to gather their troops before we arrive." That seemed rather more hopeful than certain, but I trusted the man's word.

"A thousand men is something that Isewen and the Avvars can handle easily," Julie noted aloud, for the benefit of the chevalier, "We must be vigilant of the other threats, but I doubt the tribes will attack such a large army when there is a good road to use, and the dragon cultists would be mad to do so. Allow the Lancers and the Highlanders to do their job."

"As you wish," Louise replied, likely sour but respectful as she could be. The mask made it as difficult to gauge her reactions as ever.

"We'll find something for you," I said to her, "As much as I hope they don't, I'm sure the Fereldans will attempt to stop us somewhere."

"I am not so sure," said Louise, gripping the hilt of her sword, "We move more quickly than most armies, even with the civilians. I am beginning to suspect we shall face no more opposition until we are at the walls of Amaranthine."

"Then you will be first over the walls," Leha said, tone dismissive, "I'll throw you over myself, if you don't shut up about it. So eager to get yourself dead, you chevaliers."

Like a bird of prey honing in on its target, Louise's silver-plated skull mask angled down towards the dwarf in the blink of an eye. Her sword slid slightly out of its scabbard, not a real threat but a warning to her target that she would not suffer attacks lightly. "Eager to prove our valour," she growled, " _Quartermaster._ "

Leha grit her teeth, but didn't respond to the implied charge of cowardice. There was a certain truth behind it; she did not like battle, although she had experience of combat. Not sure that it was cowardice rather than a dislike for the realities.

"It's done," Julie cut in sharply.

"As you say, Marquise," Louise conceded, taking her hand off her sword-hilt and letting the blade slide back into its scabbard with a click.

"For clarity, my boys and girls want some action too," McNulty said, scratching at his beard, "Something other than darkspawn to haunt their dreams, I think."

"Mine too," Soprano added, "I must admit some dissatisfaction with avoiding battle. We could crush King Alistair's forces in a single swoop."

Can't say I wasn't tempted to give it a shot, but at the time, I simply looked to Julie to explain the obvious objection. She surprised me with a different one.

"We have to leave Ferelden in as good a state as possible," Julie said, "That bastard Gaspard allowed us to slip into exile here so we could weaken the country, to send it into chaos. All so he can look like the hero when he rides in here, fresh from his victory over Celene. The Empress herself may do the same if she wins the upper hand instead. Our actions have already resulted in the burning of one town, we shall not aid the Empire further in our actions, is that clear?"

There were enthusiastic noises of consent from the commoners at the table, Soprano and McNulty chief among them. The trueborn nobles, Barris and the de Villars, remained silent. I had tried to put Gaspard out of my mind, for the sake of my sanity as much as anything, but Julie's peculiar memory precluded any chance of her doing that. She was capable of channelling her anger more appropriately than I could, though.

"We may also need the bullets later," Tam added, "The Free Marches may react badly to our arrival." That had been my first reaction.

"By Andraste, I hope not," Julie breathed, "Anyway, as Sam said, the Army can move the day after tomorrow by the western route and we'll be around the lake in no time at all. I think that's all we need to consider, for now. We'll meet again tomorrow night and..."

Velarana cleared her throat loudly, reminding me and everyone else of her existence. And that of the other mages. "You got a cold or something?" Ciara asked from beside the Aequitarian, probably getting an earful of the noise for her trouble.

"Or a case of very poor manners," Brandon said.

A particular fact only emerged in my head at that moment; the mages had been completely quiet for the whole meeting until that point. Not enjoying the thought that it had been a mindful act, I glanced at Armen for some hint, but he looked as lost as anyone. Hardly a surprise considering he had been watching Ciara all night.

Velarana seemed to be the ringleader of what was happening, and didn't care what Brandon or Ciara thought. "The other leaders of the mage fraternities and I have a _request_ ," she said, "Except for the Libertarians, but I would be surprised if they objected." She looked at Armen, who gave her no indication that he was going to raise an objection, simply staring back, cool as ever.

"The Circle at Kinloch Hold is within striking distance," Velarana continued, "I had not held out hope that we could reasonably assault it, but we captured no small number of ships yesterday. You must know that the Templars are becoming extreme in their methods and temperament. I fear the Fereldan Circles will be the scene of the next incident, because of the liberty mages have here. I am no Libertarian, but these are circumstances my fraternity cannot ignore. We must act."

Of all the things to come out of her mouth, that was perhaps the most unexpected. I almost congratulated her for it.

Brandon coughed and spluttered, hardly believing her ears. "You wish us to attack a Circle?!" she said, "Do you have any idea how the Divine... how the Templars would react! It would cause a war!"

"I have begun to believe that such a war is inevitable," Velarana replied quickly, "But the Fereldan Circles are out of favour with the Templars, even if the Divine favours them. I believe they would prefer to see the mages under our banner. All the bad eggs in one place."

"You risk the Divine revoking our own Circle's charter!" Brandon rumbled back, "She would be under significant pressure to declare an Exalted March!"

"My Templars and I are all oathbound to the Chantry," Barris added, "If you plan to attack the Circles at Kinloch and Jainen, I have no choice but to fight against you."

"Which is suicide," Armen replied cheerily, "But that wouldn't stop you, would it?" The young mage was thoroughly enjoying the sudden swing of the other fraternities towards his position where locking up mages was concerned.

The Knight-Commander looked around the table, and saw nothing but agreement with Armen's sentiments; that the Free Army would fight to defend the mages in its number. Too many wounds patched up, too many enemies destroyed, too many relationships both comradely and romantic stoked, it was the natural reaction. I had to feel some level of pride at the phenomenon, having achieved something unheard of.

"There must be some sort of compromise," Julie said, "The objections of the Grand-Cleric aren't madness. When we reach the Free Marches, the only thing protecting us will be our weapons and the mercy of the world around us. It will be impossible to fight an Exalted March. But Colonel Velarana is correct, we cannot leave the mages there either."

"Surely if we do, they will be used against us?" Tam asked, "It seems far less wise to leave the _saarebas_ there."

Brandon sighed wearily. "Were it any other kingdom, you might be wrong," she said, "But Queen Anora... she extracted a heavy price from the Chantry for its failures during the Blight. Ferelden can call for volunteers from the Circles in times of war, and can conscript the entirety in the event of Blights, even without the Wardens. The Hero of Ferelden demanded it, and Anora delivered."

"Isn't there something you can do?" Armen asked, "You're a Grand-Cleric, aren't you?"

"Ferelden has one of its own," Brandon replied, "But... I am higher in precedence than her. I can facilitate a transfer of mages to our Circle, but it would likely require the Knight-Commanders of Kinloch and Jainen to agree separately that I do have more authority."

"Would you accept us trying that?" Julie said, directing the question at Velarana, "Without a guarantee that it would work?"

Velarana frowned, anticipating the reaction of the other two fraternity leaders.

"We much prefer peaceful means," said Marable, speaking for the Isolationists.

"Agreed," nodded Valle, "If we can avoid the expense in blood and supplies of yet another battle, we should do so."

"I will not allow our brothers and sisters to be slaughtered out of paranoia," Velarana hissed back at them, "I am sure the Libertarians stand with us on that."

"We do," said Armen firmly, "In fact, I am sure the Circle has the herbs required to hold off the Taint. There's another reason."

Julie paused, looking down at the table. "Then we are at an impasse," she said, "We cannot spark a larger war with the Chantry. We won't win such a war. But we cannot ignore this opportunity either. We'll lose too many people if we allow Ferelden the chance to rally mages to its cause, and more from the Taint before we reach Vigil's Keep."

The table fell silent, as the divide in our ranks seemed to hit us. I didn't think that the Knight-Commanders of Ferelden would agree to giving us their mages. We were the wild experiment of the Chantry as far as the Templars were concerned. A sort of test case for whether or not mages could live with even greater freedoms. I couldn't see other top Templars thinking like Barris did.

But then I remembered how exactly Brandon and Barris had changed her mind about me, from a threat to someone sent by the Maker. As the argument continued in more or less the same way around me, a plan began to emerge from the fog in my mind.

"Fisher," I said, interrupting the back and forth, "How many people can you move on those ships?"

"On the big ones, a couple of thousand," the Jaderite replied, "More if we use the fishing boats, but I wouldn't recommend that."

"Good," I said, "The Guard, the Grenadiers and the Templars will be the honour guard for the Grand-Cleric, we'll set sail as the Army marches out."

"What do you intend?" Brandon asked, "They will see a display of force as blackmail, Marquis."

"I'm sure they shall, at first," I replied, "The threat will get us in the front doors. But we're going to give them another sort of display once we're inside, and they'll forget all about threats."

* * *

The dwarves marched out the next day. It was quite a sight, the living statues of rock and steel pounding along, followed by the dwarva troopers themselves. They said nothing to us, and barely deemed to spare us their eyes for more than a split second. Korbin hadn't been kidding about the Legion of the Dead's opinion of where all of this was going, and was getting his people out of Dodge as quick as he good. But he respected the promise he had made, and left the tinctures in Markham's capable hands.

Our Army marched out the next morning, having completed the stripping of the town of all strategic resources. The smithies worked from sunrise to sunset, melting lead into bullets, shoring up horseshoes, repairing wagon wheels. Would have been nice to find some money too, but any real moveable wealth was with the townsfolk in the Chantry chapels. Soprano was appointed to command in my absence. Our own civilians were herded back to the road, and the wagon train got moving.

All watched closely by the Arl's men, high up on the walls and towers of Redcliffe Castle.

As soon as I was sure that the civilians were clear, we proceeded down to the docks before the Fereldans could sally out to stop us, boarded a boat. Julie, Tam, Armen and I. Ciara and Leha remained, the former as a kind of political advisor to the latter, who suddenly found herself in political control of the entire army for the duration of our trip to Kinloch. Our Dalish friend didn't want to go to the Circle.

Julie had insisted on coming with, though I had made my preference that she stay with the Army known.

"I have never seen the inside of a Circle," she had said, "Or met any mage that truly wanted to live within one. I need to do this." Stubborn as a mule, as the old folks used to say. It was the wrong move, but there was no talking her down.

Brandon had made her coming a condition of her cooperation in our plan, so that was that.

Officially, we were the armed escort for the Grand-Cleric of the Eastern Dales for the duration. That meant Brandon was in charge, at least as far as how we were to behave if the Templars at Kinloch proved not to be immediately hostile. Mages didn't technically fall under Julie's jurisdiction, as we were still adhering to the deal we had made with the Divine via Leliana Nightingale.

That is how we left Redcliffe, on a windy day with relatively clear skies. The seven large merchant vessels carrying the delegation to the Circle continued straight north into the heart of Lake Calenhad, while the collection of smaller fishing ships and boats proceeded to follow the Army along the western lakeshore. That would do wonders for the diet of the troops and those with child, which made me feel a lot better about the whole saga.

Despite the reputation of our nation, it may surprise many readers to find out that I am not a sea person. Or even a large lake person. I get nauseous at the mention of ships. I am a species of land predator. Don't mind flying, don't mind hoofing it hundreds of clicks, but bobbing about on water in a wooden tub is not my idea of fun.

The first day was easy enough. The wind didn't kick up too many waves. We spent the time playing dice and cards on the lower deck, our soldiers sleeping in rows and hammocks that night while my companions and I collapsed onto our furs in what had been the Captain's quarters. Trade ships were often laid up in Redcliffe for the winter, as there wasn't much trade on the lakes at that time of year. We reaped the reward. We saw others on the water too, those coming from the Waking Sea.

The second day was worse. It rained, and the water became a good deal more choppy a few hours before we were supposed to arrive at our destination.

The rocking of the ship laid me up in bed for much of it. I was able to keep my food down but only if I wasn't vertical. Julie sat behind me, my head on her lap, rubbing my head and laughing as I groaned with each big roll and buck of the vessel. I forgave her the laughs because the massaging was an absolute God-send. Armen looked suitably miserable too at least, having never been on a ship before, but he was at least able to stand up. Tam was her usual self, probably the best well travelled by land or sea of all of us. On Thedas, at any rate.

"This _is_ a surprise," she said somewhere into the third hour, "The great Samuel Hunt, defeated by water."

"There's a reason I didn't join the damned Marines," I said, "Well, that and I wanted nothing to do with what happens on Parris Island."

"What is Parris Island?" Tam asked from the side.

"Hell on Earth," I replied, "If the Marines are to be believed."

"Sounds bad," Julie teased, "Not tough enough?"

"Not stupid enough," I said, "But I'm sure the Marines would say that's the same thing."

The ship rolled badly once again, my stomach with it. Julie curled her fingers in my hair again, making feel better again. She soon noticed that, and the edges of her lips curled up from above me. "There are remedies for this sickness," she said, "Better ones than a head massage."

"Many," Tam confirmed, "Although some are simply scams to wring coin out of sailors. No less than three alchemists attempted to sell me such remedies at Ostwick."

"I presume you left their bodies somewhere no one can find them," Armen joked.

"No!" Tam said back, "I simply ignored them."

"How did you cross to Orlais?" Armen continued, "Passage on a ship isn't free."

"I had some gold," Tam replied, "Taken from the Tevinter mage I … pacified. But I crossed the sea for free in the end. Slept with a captain for comfort. And the first mate."

I winced. That was an image in my mind I really did not need. I tried not to think about Tam's past occupation other than 'state-allocated child raiser', it made me angry at the Qun. This was an extension of that. "Sailors are... salty," I said, "I'm sure that was unpleasant."

"Not at all," she said, "She was a very competent lover. The first mate, she was just as good."

Which changed things. "She," I laughed, "Never mind, I take it back."

The inconsistency did not go unnoticed.

"You really do have a strange attitude about these things," said Julie, "Why does them being women make a difference? Would you not take a man as a lover? It is nothing to be ashamed of. A certain dashing General of Grenadiers would be willing, too. I think you would find it pleasant. It is simply strange to confine yourself so."

I clenched my jaw, wondering how best to explain it. It was "I don't find men as attractive as women," I said, "Or attractive at all. That's the norm where I come from for most guys, but not all."

"It is the norm among the Qun too," Tam said, "I prefer men, in general, but I do not object to women."

"I like both," said Julie, "If I took a male lover, you would object?"

"To you, no," I said, "I'd make it known that he can choose between you and getting into a serious fight with me, and let him decide. Men are possessive, Julie."

"But we are yours forever anyway!" Julie complained, "And you are ours. We are not going to run off with someone. What does it matter?"

I felt a hot sensation crawl up my face, not really used to open declarations that we were going to be together forever. It was too corny by a mile.

Armen laughed, seeing the effect for himself. "I think he's worried about the risks," he said, "He doesn't want you to suddenly find yourself in the situation women often find themselves in, after doing _that_." Not true, but after he said it, it did occur I would be torn to pieces in that event.

"I'm very careful," Julie said, her finger pointed at Armen over my head, "Ask Sam. What do you think we've been doing all this time?"

"She is," I confirmed, "Doesn't make me happy about other lovers."

"What about Ciara?" Julie asked, "Do you just use magic?" Which obviously wouldn't work for me. Magical immunity isn't all positive.

"Yes," Armen shrugged, "But we're not like you three. We're not soulmates, we're good friends. That's all."

"Is this an Orlesian thing?" I asked, "I get the feeling that other nations are less tolerant of this." Fereldans turn red then blue if you try it with them.

"Most other nations are barbaric," Julie said, returning her hands to my head, "Orlais is a perfect tyranny, but it at least recognises the realities of people. Maybe that is why it can control people so well."

There was a certain logic to that. Why bother with rebellion as long as your belly is full and you can take a string of lovers? Bread and games, of a sort. Of course, that is what the revolution exploited on some level. Bread is a lot less plentiful than lovers in Orlais.

"Look, I can't tell you what to do and I could never hurt you," I said, trying to bring the subject to a close, "But I owe no obligations to men trying to steal you away from me. And that's what they would be trying to do. Is that greedy? Absolutely. Do I care that it's greedy? Hell no. The whole multiple-lovers thing is already messing with my values, I don't need the complexities of other men in this mess."

"What about the Tevinter?" Tam asked, "Should we not be jealous of her?"

"Yes," I said, "I can't say otherwise."

"I will not be," Julie insisted, "My objection to her is purely political. A Tevinter magister is not a fit ally, and certainly not a fit lover for you. It is one thing to take lovers, it is entirely another to have no standards."

"We have chevaliers," Armen said flatly, "Not like it's a huge leap to take a magister."

"Sam isn't sleeping with them," Tam replied flatly, "Not through lack of trying on their part."

I hoped that wasn't a reference to the elder de Villars. "Yeah, Mariette approached me the day before yesterday," I said, "I turned her down."

Tam nodded, glad to know I had dodged that bullet.

"She is handsome," said Julie, her eyes rolling upwards, "You should have said yes, and then brought her to me."

"She'll try it with you later," I said, "She's in it for the power, and maybe as some fucked up redemption for trying to kill me."

"She should seek redemption," Julie pouted, "Others are. I see no reason to reject her."

"I am with Sam on this," Tam intoned, "Mariette de Villars is not to be trusted." Admittedly, after the display of guile de Villars had put on at the war council, I had started to waver, but there was a bottom line.

"Don't think it's about trusting her," Armen smirked, his eyes on Julie.

"If Bitch Pudding proves herself, then there's nothing else for it," I said in Common.

Julie's hand stopped moving once more. "Bitch Pudding?" she asked.

If I had a hundred years to explain who Bitch Pudding is, I wouldn't have enough time. I was saved from having to make an attempt in mere minutes.

A knock on the door came.

Fisher marched in, stopping dead upon seeing the scene before him. I would have too, if I had caught the general of my army laying down his head on the (Madame) President's lap. Though that would have been considerably more of a problem in my case. The Jaderite just stood there, tongue tied.

I pulled myself up off of Julie, and stood, readying myself to suppress the wave of nausea. To my surprise, no such wave hit. In fact, the movement of the ship seemed to be greatly lessened.

"Report, Fisher," I said, falling into the professional place of a superior officer with ease.

"Apologies, Marquis," he said, "I have interrupted you."

"Not at all," I insisted, "Report."

Fisher wasn't trained up through the Free Army, and neither were his people, but most of the sailors had served on Orlesian Navy vessels at some point. That is how most realms operate navies, in fact. Gather up the fisherfolk and merchantmen under the command of professionals, sometimes taking the ships along too. If you think chevaliers are bad on land, try them on the ocean. Navies, unlike armies, require a degree of technical skill that elude armies. Discipline is notably harsh. So the man noted the clipped tone of voice I was using, and responded accordingly.

"The mist has cleared," he said, "The lookouts have spotted the tower, and we are changing course towards it. The _Far Horizon_ signalled with a message from the Grand-Cleric, asking if we proceed as planned."

The others began standing up.

"Signal them back with an affirmative," I replied, "The Guard and the Grenadiers will secure a beachhead, and the Templars can bring the Grand-Cleric ashore. If I'm perfectly content that she won't catch an arrow for her trouble."

"Yes, Marquis!" Fisher said.

The man marched out, each step very deliberate and rapid, closing the door behind him. I looked back at the others.

"Here we go," I said, "Let's go take a look, shall we?"

"Prepare to be impressed," Armen said, grasping his staff, "I've heard the Circle Tower here is second only to the White Spire itself."

"Isn't it a prison?" Tam asked, "How impressive can it be?"

I shrugged, pulling on my boots, still requiring effort to keep on an even keel where my stomach was concerned but far less than before. The others began donning their own footwear, and I made it to the door first.

The wind hadn't died down, but at least it wasn't raining, and I was shielded from the worst of it by the cabin behind me, the gales coming in from the south to the backs of our ships. The decks were lined with Fisher's sailors, _sans_ the chainmail and helmets they had taken to wearing on the march, awaiting orders. I couldn't see ahead, because the sails were in the way, so I walked forward to the bow, ducking under the sails at certain points and wobbling to the amusement of the deck crew.

It was worth the trouble.

The Circle Tower rose up in the distance, a veritable skyscraper of a bygone era. Carved grey stone piled as high as it was possible to be without collapse, strong buttresses around its base keeping it that way, a broken bridge extending off to the right of it towards the distant shoreline, which it commanded. It was a piece of architecture unlike any I had ever seen.

But, my brain began to analyse it from a military perspective after only a few moments. It had to have been made by magic, I thought, because there was no way anyone would have spent money to erect such a structure without magic in such a place. It did not appear to have any defences beyond the water itself, if perhaps the Templars had dismantled them as a disadvantage to the purpose of the place. No windows to escape out of or arrow slits to throw secret messages from, neither to shoot at us from either.

The fight, if it happened, would be inside. Close quarters. This I had anticipated, which is why I had brought the two best regiments for such fighting. Chevaliers for the old style. Grenadiers for the new.

"Someone a long time ago was compensating for something," Julie said from beside me, a frown on her face.

"Tell me about it," I snorted.

"Wasn't it Amund's people who built it?" Armen said, "With the size they are, you wouldn't think they'd need to compensate."

"Only takes one man in power with an ego problem," I said, fully aware that could apply to me as well.

"Or woman," Julie said wistfully, her eyes looking up in a different direction.

I tracked where she was looking, it wasn't at the Tower any longer, and I spotted two eagles circling ahead. _The_ eagles. An omen I could do without, I thought.

* * *

It took another few hours to negotiate the straits at the northern end of the lake, as there were several islands to avoid crashing into. This also explained the more calm movement of the ships, the islands acted as very efficient breakwaters. The time was used well.

The chevaliers on board our own ship took some time to kit out in their breastplates, greaves and gauntlets. Very necessary things for facing Templars, who of course have full chainmail or plate armour. The chevaliers didn't really armour up their lower halves, to maintain their mobility. Louise looked particularly impressive, wearing the fully enclosed skull helmet of her house, rounded shoulder pauldrons and her shining cuirass over her torso. I myself donned the armoured skull mask she had given me at Honnleath.

Below decks, the Grenadiers had a much easier time, simply pulling on the leather plate-carriers and round helmets shaped exactly the same way as my own kevlar versions. They spent the rest of the time measuring out gunpowder into small wooden cartridge caps. These carried the exact amount needed for a good shot, had a small hinged lid to keep the powder dry, and they were attached to thread so that they could be tossed in combat without losing them in the process. Another of Julie's innovations. Paper wasn't so cheap that we could make disposable ones, after all.

Julie and I layered ourselves with the usual selection of armour and weapons, Armen and Tam donning Earth panoply too. Hope for the best, prepare for Murphy's Law to come and bite you in the ass. That was the watchword.

Fisher proved himself an able commander of ships, coordinating the disembarkation perfectly.

Five of the seven ships, the ones containing the Guard and Grenadier companies, came up alongside the remaining intact part of the bridge leading to the Tower itself. The sailors threw ropes with hooks on the end to grab onto the supporting stone, and then pulled each ship in close to the bridge, before securing everything tightly. The last two ships could then use these as a safer dock.

The path was just barely higher than the deck of the ship, and Fisher had his people throw the gangplanks up to ease our way. They clanked onto the cut rock of the bridge, ringing out the attack.

I stepped onto the one nearest the Tower, eager to get the hell off the ship but probably appearing to be wanting to lead the advance. I felt better instantly as I jumped off the plank and onto solid ground, relatively speaking, once more. Julie and Tam were right behind me, covering the way to the large doors of the Circle with firelance and nocked bow, with Armen and Louise coming alongside.

The Grenadiers and chevaliers flowed off the decks, the former falling into a bayonet formation in the centre of the bridge directly behind us, McNulty and Old Glory at their head, while the latter formed up behind with my UN banner, ready to join a melee from the sides as required.

I scanned the entrance, and saw two very startled Templars banging on the huge front doors of the tower rapidly. I had them dead to rights, if I had wanted to end their existences.

This would have been amusing to me, but it was also a good opportunity.

"Forward," I said into my mouthpiece, before beginning to pace forward, grabbing my firelance by the pistol grip and into my hands.

"FORWARD!" came the reply of McNulty, followed by the steady beat of boots and drums.

We got off the bridge as swiftly as we could, the wind buffeting us the whole way, so that if the Templars sallied, we wouldn't be bottlenecked. The two that had been outside were let in, the doors opening only as far as required for one man to pass through at a time, before closing shut again long before we ever could have reached them. I regretted not having brought a Tranquil cannon battery, as using some of my remaining plastic explosives on the door would have been a waste, but Brandon had been clear that the presence of the Tranquil gunners would have complicated matters.

The Grenadiers maintained their formation once we were at the end of the bridge. McNulty ordered a halt, and the first rank to kneel, so we could give the Templars a full volley if they did anything stupid. Louise's chevaliers and their squires fanned out to either side, ready to charge once the volley had ripped through the enemy, guarding the two staircases that went down to where I presumed boats were tied up in the mean time.

We had secured the beachhead.

I gave a nod to Armen, and he let loose a bolt of lightning into the sky, the thunderclap's echo slapping off the stone of the Tower itself. Far more fun than a signal flare.

What the occupants of the structure thought, I did not know, but Chantry banner soon made its way onto the bridge, hanging over the Grand-Cleric, Knight-Commander Barris and the Templar honour guard. The chevaliers parted on the left to let them through, the Grenadiers keeping their weapons held up as our Templars formed to either side.

"Marquis," Brandon said, inclining her head, "Any trouble?"

"None," I replied, "After you?"

She gestured to me to wait and stepped ahead, coming to a stop just far enough away from the doors for them to open without hitting her. She must have known something I didn't, namely that there was a viewing slit in the door, because as soon as she stopped, the portal began to open, the huge metal and wooden ediface swinging outwards.

Behind stood surprisingly few Templars. Their Templars were older than ours, Barris having recruited the young and the idealistic to join our project. But no doubt they had all seen their fair share of action, hunting down apostates in the wilds of the countryside. They were armed as Templars usually were in those days, with longswords and shields. There were a couple of archers in mail at the rear, but their bows were held at rest, without arrows on the string.

Only two men ventured outside.

One was quite obviously the Knight-Commander of Kinloch, having a set of armour to rival Louise's own, pauldrons and all, with a purple tunic underneath stretching down to his ankles over a chainmail skirt. He had grey hair and a well kept beard, yet his age had not seemed to have caught up fully with him yet. Certainly not if he was walking around as easily as he was in plate.

The other was a mage, in fine green ornate robes, more ornate than anything Armen had ever possessed, and carrying a metal staff with a green crystal at the end encompassed by flanges like a mace. The First Enchanter, I thought.

Julie and I aimed our firelances at the two leaders, I taking the mage and she the Templar, as they approached Brandon. The Grand-Cleric looked positively tiny by comparison to these two men, even with her big ceremonial hat on. I think we both thought she was in serious danger if either decided to take umbrage with what she said. For their part, they looked at

"Look at this, Irving," said the Templar leader in Common, "They're children. All of them. Ridiculous." Adults with firearms, I thought, just catching myself from verbalising the idea as I had agreed with Brandon that she would do the talking. But it was very true that our movement was young.

How the priestess had remained silent, I still do not know to this day. I would have hoped it meant she had learned tact, but there wasn't a chance in hell of that happening.

"The young often find themselves overstepping boundaries," the First Enchanter replied in the same language as his prison warden, before turning his attention to the chief guest, "Grand-Cleric Brandon, I presume?"

"Correct," said Brandon, accented Common thick, "You have been expecting us?"

"Word came of your arrival," said the Knight-Commander, "Come inside. There will be no fight here. You have already broken this Circle."

With that, the man shot the dirtiest of narrowed-brow looks in the direction of Barris, before turning on his heel and making his way inside the Tower again. The Templars escorting him followed, leaving the First Enchanter alone outside, looking rather apologetic.

"What does that mean?" Brandon asked the remaining mage.

"It is perhaps easier to show than tell," the First Enchanter said, "I am Irving. We will assemble the mages in their mess hall for you. No doubt you have things to say to them. Before you do, I will attempt to answer your questions as best I can."

"That would be wonderful," Brandon replied, "The Maker smiles on us this day, it seems."

"He smiles on many people with armies behind them," Irving replied softly, "I fear everything will end in disaster. It almost has in the past."

He led Brandon inside, Barris and our Templars following behind closely.

"What was all that about?" Armen asked, "They're acting strangely."

"Something is wrong," Tam replied, placing the arrow she had nocked back into the hand holding the bow, "The Templar implied he would like to resist, but could not."

"I'm sure Mother Brandon will get to the bottom of it," Julie said, "Let's go and see."

I rubbed the back of my neck, and waved the Grenadiers forward first, sending them marching forwards in-column though the massive doors. "Maybe a demonstration won't be needed after all," I said, "Good. I feel like a dancing monkey when I do need one."

"There are monkeys that dance?" Julie asked, incredulous, "I would very much like to see such a thing."

"It's more cruel than entertaining," Tam replied, "Trust me."

There were numerous monkeys on Par Vollen and Seheron. The Qunari traded them to Rivaini merchants more often than not. Trust me, the number of them offered to us by the businessmen was far from small.

Louise glanced at me, indicating she wanted the chevaliers to enter last, so they could protect our backs. I waved the others to me and entered the Tower proper at last. Behind the first set of doors was a second, equally large set, with the locks facing outwards. This enclosed a sort of entrance sector of the facility. Like any other prison.

Beyond them were vaulted ceilings above finely carved stone floors, long curved corridors that encircled the entire tower. The space was lit with yellow-orange glowstone, appropriate enough for a magical institution. Our Templars had marched off to the right, theirs guarding the hallways at picket intervals, the Grenadiers maintaining good order as they followed along. We followed, passing open doors to barracks-style sleeping quarters.

"Apprentice quarters," Armen whispered, "They're always kept at the lowest levels near the entrance. The enchanters are considered more dangerous, so the Templars have the younger mages where they can be moved away easily."

I bit my tongue in my mouth, paying closer attention. It did seem like the occupants of the room were exclusively teenagers as we passed by, packed in like sardines into bunks. I could only imagine what that must have been like. I enjoyed middle and high school, but I also knew there were many who didn't, and the idea of living with those... politics constantly probably would have driven me insane.

Eventually, the quarters ended and the libraries began. It was the largest collection of written knowledge I had ever seen on Thedas up until that point, and would remain so for a good while longer afterwards. The stacks were right up to the ceiling, some thirty feet in the air, with precarious looking ladders around the place for finding things. Armen let out a grunt at the sight.

"Nostalgic, saarebas?" Tam asked playfully, "We can leave you here, if you like."

"Couldn't we just..." He started, "I don't know, take the books with us?"

"Don't tempt me," Julie replied.

We climbed a set of wide, gently sloping stairs, the first to an identical level that seemed to house the adults, confirming Armen's assertion as to the structure of things there. The library sections of this level were also joined by a Chantry chapel and laboratories. There were fewer watching eyes here. Not even as many as we had anticipated, I noted. There were supposed to be as many as eight hundred mages in the Tower, of all age groups. If the numbers of the kids had been reflected in the adults, I might have said that was about right, but they were not.

I filed the observation away for later, we climbed another staircase to the third level.

A sign declared it to be the Great Hall, which was exactly what it was.

There was easily enough space for all our troops plus the supposed maximum number of mages. Our Grenadiers set up at the stairwell and the entrances to small chambers around the edges, covering the Templar pickets perfectly. McNulty knew what he was doing. Our own Templars kept in a single formation, halberds and bills held at rest over shoulder or butts-against-the-ground. Thinking that a good idea, I gestured for Louise to send the chevaliers to join them.

Brandon was already addressing the Knight-Commander of Kinloch and Irving, Barris just behind and to the side of her. I strode over with my companions. Armen moved a little further ahead, apparently noticing that his presence might be required.

"Knight-Commander Greagoir, First Enchanter Irving, thank you for allowing our entry," our Grand-Cleric said, "I am Brandon, High Chantry governor of Free Orlais and the Eastern Dales. As you probably know. This is Knight-Commander Barris of the Circle of Magi at Hearth, formerly of this Circle as I understand it."

She gave Armen a rapid wave to move up beside her. He complied, grinning as he does. "Lastly, this is Armen Cartier, First Enchanter of the Hearth Circle."

My mage friend bowed theatrically, throwing out his space hand like he was greeting a monarch. "How do you do?" he said in perfect Common.

Greagoir let out a derisive snort, looking Armen up and down. "Children," he said, repeating his comment from before, "How is it that someone so young leads your entire Circle?"

"We elect our First Enchanter," Armen replied, tilting his helmet off of his head and revealing his short black hair, "One of the many innovations that makes the Circle of Hearth the safest and most productive of them all."

"I wasn't aware that war was safe," Greagoir snapped back, "And should you still call it the Circle of Hearth? Word of your exile and the dissolution of your Circle by the Grand-Duke of Orlais has reached us."

"Knight-Commander Greagoir!" Brandon interrupted loudly, "You know as well as I that temporal nobles have no jurisdiction over the Circles except by prior agreement with the Chantry. The Grand-Duke does not have the power to command the dissolution of a Circle, only the Divine does. Have you received such an order from the Divine, ser?"

"No," Greagoir grumbled, "Not yet."

"Nor will you ever," Brandon corrected, "If anything, the exile of the Free Army has tested our Circle to the brink and our mages have performed with absolute propriety. Only a few years ago, I would not have thought such a thing possible, but here we are. You certainly don't possess the power to dismiss that experience in a fit of pique, ser."

Firebrand Brandon, hard at work.

The Knight-Commander of Kinloch began turning a shade of purple-red, glaring at the Grand-Cleric, before Irving placed a hand on his arm and nodded at the assembled troops behind us. Greagoir wisely calmed himself down. I'm sure if I could have seen Armen's face from where I was standing, it would have been positively glowing with amusement and satisfaction.

"Are these three who I think they are?" Irving asked, looking over at us. A real politician, this one. He had steered the conversation in a far more safe direction with practised ease.

"The Marquis and Marquise de la Fayette," Brandon said, holding her hand out towards us, "Commanding General of the Free Army and former High-Chancellor of Free Orlais."

"And their Qunari mistress," Irving said, looking over Tam with admiration, "You know you are spoken of with a degree of exaggeration that we have not seen in Ferelden since Daylen Amell? As is _Monsieur_ Cartier."

"We're beginning to see that," I said, reminded of Teagan's condemnation of our cause.

"Is it really true what they say about you?" he continued, "Can you walk through all forms of magic, unharmed?"

"He can," Julie replied, "In fact, we intended to show you, as a means of convincing you of the Maker's blessing upon our cause."

Irving let out a laugh at that. "Many people believe they have that blessing," he said, "Here at Kinloch, we are more suspicious of such things. Here, many died and the Maker did nothing. But I will take your offer."

He stepped forward, and conjured a bright orange flame in his palm, about the length of his forearm. I knew what he wanted me to do already. We had planned a far more spectacular display; inviting the Circle mages to try and kill me as I had once down at the parade grounds of L'Ambassade. This would do. No need for larger pyrotechnics when a relatively small amount did the job.

I stuck my own hand directly into the flame, and watched it bend around, dying down wherever it came close to touching me. I didn't even feel the effects of it. Irving soon snuffed it out, and looked at me with wide-eyed curiosity.

"Remarkable," he said, "Nothing only are you unharmed, but your clothing is too!"

"Have you ever heard of anything like that?" Brandon said, "Such a gift could only be from the Maker himself. He has been sent to create equilibrium and harmony between mage and non-mage, a great sword to hang over the abominations and a great encouragement for those whom require magical aid."

The Templars, ours and theirs, all looked suitably impressed. The ones not wearing helmets, at least. Even Greagoir looked on with feelings I could not identify exactly. He had extensive anti-magical capabilities, yet he had never seen anything like what I had just done. The blank expression made that clear. The implications of it all were not as clear cut as Brandon said, to him or I.

"I cannot claim to know the Maker's will," Irving said shakily, "But this is unique in the history of Thedas as far as I am aware."

"It isn't unique," I replied, "I've been made aware of a number of similar individuals. We even found the bones of some of them in the Deep Roads, the poor sons of bitches."

A clanking of armour announced a reaction. "You came to Ferelden by the Deep Roads?" Greagoir exclaimed in surprise, "That detail wasn't in the message."

"What message?" Tam asked, narrowing her eyes.

"The message from Arl Teagan," Irving explained, "Under the terms of the Denerim Accords, signed by the Chantry on the insistence of Warden-Commander Amell, the Crown can call for suitable volunteers from the mages, for the Army to see off invaders."

"And you are invaders," Greagoir added.

"We know," Julie replied flatly, "That is why the Grand-Duke exiled us here in the first place. So you would consider us to be enemies. We have merely pre-empted this country's response."

"You're telling me most of the mages are gone?" I asked.

"The Arl invoked the articles required as Master of Horse," Irving explained, "We had no choice but to send the suitable candidates. However, anyone under any sort of suspicion of Libertarian leanings was excluded."

"Most of the Aequitarians and all of the Loyalists have gone to Denerim," Greagoir said, "To join the King in defence of their country. From you." Velarana was going to be furious.

Another masterstroke from Teagan. We had caught him and the entire realm completely by surprise, and he had wasted not a second in rallying the one force that could genuinely threaten us. He knew they couldn't reach Redcliffe in time to save it, if they even could have saved it at all, but with the support of the Royal Army and whatever other volunteers could be raised...

I realised we were going to have a real fight on our hands at some point in the future. Gaspard might very well get his way regardless. And perhaps he would have, if older, more evil forces had not acted.

There was just one question I had. "What about Rowan?" I asked, "Teagan's niece? She was at Redcliffe."

"You bastard!" Greagoir shouted, moving towards me. He had made a dark assumption, one I myself would have made. Louise and Barris drew their swords and interposed themselves between him and I, Tam's dagger making its appearance in her own hand before she made her way to get in behind him if he went further. The chevaliers dispersed neatly to surround those Templars loyal to Greagoir, following the lead of their commander. I found the man to be little threat as a consequence, barely registering him as such. He himself got the idea quickly too.

Armoured veteran or not, Blondie would have carved him in half. Templars are warriors. Chevaliers are soldiers.

"She's alive," Julie said, "The entire town and most of the garrison are."

"Rowan Guerrin is assigned to Denerim Palace," Irving said, interrupting to save the day again, "She should not have been at Redcliffe at all."

"Well, she was," I continued, "Along with two Templars. I guess she must have shown up to visit just before we laid siege to the town, or else he would have sent her away."

"That is a plausible explanation," Irving said, pointedly looking at Greagoir. The two Knight-Commanders were squaring off, but Greagoir being the older man, knew the futility of that sort of thing and backed down. Barris still hadn't said a word.

"All of this has nothing to do with us," Brandon said, "Assemble the remaining mages. All of them. Prisoners, children, suspected Libertarians. I invoke my authority as a Grand-Cleric, all those who wish to transfer to the Circle of Hearth will be facilitated to do so."

"Ferelden has a Grand-Cleric," Greagoir replied, "And it isn't you."

"I hold higher precedence than she does," Brandon replied, "And as this is an act of transfer, it does not require Grand-Clerics to agree. The one with precedence wins. The other may object to the Divine herself. After the fact."

A rule designed to give those clerics with noble connections, i.e. most of them, the ability to rent out mages for profit. Naturally, if Grand-Clerics can order the transfer of any mage at any time, then it would be chaotic without a hierarchy. As you can imagine, Orlais' Grand-Clerics top the list, although Brandon was the lowest ranked in the Empire. But Ferelden was never high on the list of priorities where mage talent was concerned, and its Grand-Cleric was ranked second last before Rivain's.

"The Divine will order you to return the mages," said Greagoir with certainty, "I cannot allow that which Most Holy will overturn."

"You cannot know that," Barris said, speaking at last, "Most Holy is a woman of great vision. She supported us before, she may do so again."

Not exactly how I would have characterised the means by which we established a Circle. It was more like the Divine was convinced what we had done was a fait accompli, and wished to preserve the entire system from collapse. It seemed to have worked.

"I don't want to hear a word from you, Barris," Greagoir snapped, "As far as I'm concerned, you're a traitor. Your father will be ashamed to hear of your betrayal of both your country and your faith."

"He has betrayed nothing!" Brandon boomed, moving towards the elder Knight-Commander, "You have seen with your own eyes the gift bestowed on the Marquis! I have already confirmed that not a single one of our Circle is maleficar, not a single one! We have no intention of occupying Ferelden, we will be gone by the time spring arrives! You will afford your mages the opportunity to join us, as is my right to demand under Chantry law, or I will have you removed as Commander of Kinloch Hold, as is also my right!"

"Templars!" Greagoir called to our ranks, "Is this madness what you follow?"

"They have seen everything I have, Greagoir," Barris said calmly, "They won't listen to you."

"Then all is lost," Greagoir said, "War between mages and templars is inevitable. I have strived to avoid it for years, but if you continue wandering the lands of Thedas, your mages unchecked, the Order will have no choice to do what it must, regardless of what the Divine says."

"That would be blasphemy," Brandon said.

"Yes, it would be," Greagoir said sadly, "Yet that is what I fear must happen. Very well. I have no desire to see my subordinates die here, when they will be needed later. You can have your mages, but only the ones that volunteer."

"The children too," Tam insisted, her dagger still clasped in her fingers, "All of them."

The Knight-Commander spluttered a curse into the air, in a tongue I didn't recognise, before turning away and walking out of the room, two senior Templars falling in behind. The air felt physically lighter with him gone, and I began to hope we might get through the whole process without me needing to shoot anyone. Which was always good.

"My apologies, your Grace," Irving said to Brandon, "Greagoir has been greatly conflicted of late. The news coming out of the Free Marches and Orlais has not been good. There is talk of voting to secede from the Chantry from both mages and templars."

"That too would be madness and blasphemy," Brandon said, "It shall not happen."

"Speak for yourself," Armen sniffed, "If our Circle can succeed, then so can mage freedom."

"The Templars would make war on your kind," Brandon said, "And rogue mages outside of the Marquis' reach would do what all peoples do, use their power."

"That's what firelances are for," Julie replied, "Rogue templars, maleficars, we'll give them all silverite and lead shot if we must."

"I would prefer not having the need to," Brandon said, "If we can have these freedoms with the Chantry's supervision, I would prefer that. We have proven that it is possible."

"So far," Tam intoned, "I'm sure some _saarebas_ will do something to screw it up."

"Shall I assemble the mages here?" Irving asked, ever the man to avoid touchy subjects. I decided I liked the man for that. He was somewhat of my opposite. I was great at winning fights, he was great at not having them at all. Not too often I like a fence-sitter.

"That would be ideal, First Enchanter," Brandon replied, smiling at the man, "I thank you for your graciousness in this. We also require a great number of herbs, I understand you can source them for us."

"Oh, think nothing of it," Irving replied, "I am sure we can accommodate your needs." He glanced at the soldiers, making it known that they were the reason for his compliance. He hurried off to do as he had promised.

"I wish we could get the Tranquil out too," Julie sighed, once she was sure the man was out of earshot.

"Unfortunate, yes," Brandon said, "Tranquil are considered the property of each individual Circle. We can't take them except by force."

"Which the Divine would rain down hell on us for," I muttered loudly, "We'll have to investigate the Tranquil thoroughly, when we are settled. They're slaves more than anyone else."

Julie hummed for a moment. Planning, as she usually did.

* * *

The mages filed into the room after fifteen minutes or so. Anticipating that they would be scared of seeing so many Templars and soldiers in one place, I ordered helmets to be removed and the majority of the soldiers to take up positions along the path to the exit. In case we needed to make a break for it.

The younger ones came first, the apprentices and children, escorted by the teachers. The youngest were maybe seven or eight years old, as cute as buttons. They waved at the Grenadiers and Chevaliers, innocent as can be. Several soldiers waved back, and the whole thing put wide grins on all of our faces. The teenagers saw the whole thing, and seemed to relax, understanding that our intentions were not harmful.

The enchanters, senior and junior, came in after them. Some were nervous, their hands over their mouths or shuffling on the spot once they had found one. Others were beaming, with hope I presumed. A few looked bored.

They all wore robes of very similar make to Armen's usual gear. Men had short-cut hair, women had neck-length hair, both had ponytails. They all seemed to go about in leather loafers. All confirming my suspicions about the narrowness of Circle fashion. Of course, the enchanters all had their staves, of which there were a great variety, from gnarled tree branches to all-metal types like Irving's own. None were like Armen's spear-staff, for the obvious reason.

Last of all, those mages that had broken the rules or displeased the Templars in some fashion were brought in under heavy escort. Six women and two men, chained at the wrists and ankles but wearing clean robes too. Probably having been dressed in them for the occasion. I felt anger simmer in my chest. The gender balance was hard to miss, and the Templars were mostly male. In fact, a majority of Libertarians tended to be female. I hope I don't need to point out the reasons for that, dear reader.

That didn't mean we'd be taking the prisoners without hearing what the Templars had claimed they did, but they needed to hear what we were offering so they could volunteer themselves to be examined in that way.

Brandon stood forward, the sea of eyes drawn to her.

"Greetings to all of you," she said, "You have been brought here today because a great opportunity has arisen. An opportunity to join the Circle of Hearth. I'm sure some of you have heard rumours of it, good and bad. I shall let someone more qualified explain the details, but what you need to know first is that this is sanctioned by the Chantry. Mages that come with us will still be accountable to law. The same prohibitions that exist within these walls will be enforced outside of them."

Brandon stepped back, and Julie replaced her.

"I am Julie Hunt, Marquise de la Fayette," she said, "As the rumours have no doubt told you, the Circle of Hearth provides the same freedoms as any other citizen to mages that enlist with it. Mother Brandon told you that the rules will still be enforced, but they are no different in principle to the rules that the rest of us have to follow. No one is allowed to endanger the life or liberty of others. That is all.

I'm sure you've also heard that we are at war. You will not be obligated to fight, but you will be obligated to work. For those that do sign up to fight, you will be assigned to the Peacekeepers under the Marquis, and you will be expected to follow orders given by your superiors. You will also be paid in accordance with the rank you earn. Ranks are only earned through merit and skill. We do not plan to stay in Ferelden long, and we do not plan to be at war come spring, at which point the situation may change.

We are trying to create... a better world. One where the poor aren't slaves. One where mages are free to use their talents for the benefit of both themselves and everyone else. One where the people rule, without tyrants. It is hard work. There are some who wish us dead for it, and the result won't be perfect, but that is what we are striving for.

Anyone who understands all of this, and wishes to join us, please stand to your left after I have finished speaking. Anyone who does not wish to avail of the offer, stand to your right.

The children will be coming with us regardless, we have enchanters who can care for and teach them, but those of you who have taught them until this point will also receive pay if you come with us to continue that duty.

Make your choice."

The mages barely let her finished before they started moving.

The teachers were first, splitting down the middle, moving off to either side as their desires took them. Those that moved to join us brought the children with them.

Like the prisoners, there was a clear divide. Most of what I assumed were the Libertarians were young women, moving as a single group. They moved off to join those who would be coming with, gathering more reluctant partisans with them as they moved. The prisoners themselves pulled at their chains and went too, their Templars continuing to escort them closely.

Tam, Julie and Armen helped people get to where they were going, encouraging people to join us and moving through the throng.

In the end, I would say maybe two thirds of the Circle's remaining mage population were coming along for the ride, although the exact proportion among the enchanters was likely in the opposite direction slightly. Better than I'd feared, worse than I'd hoped. Regardless, I was very happy to be getting the kids out of the damn Tower. Having them along might be hugely risky, but no one should have to grow up in a prison.

"Get those who aren't coming out," I whispered to Barris.

"Yes, Marquis," he said, regaining his old self, perhaps restored by the partial victory we had achieved bloodlessly.

I clapped the man on the shoulder for good luck, and he moved off with a group of his Templars to comply. Those that had rejected us began leaving the space, towards the staircase leading back to their quarters.

I moved over to the group that would be joining us, which had taken to chatting among themselves. I stopped just in front of them.

"Hi everyone!" I said, loudly to get their attention, "I'm Sam."

"Hi Sam!" came a cheery voice from below. Not a child's voice though.

I looked down. And found a brown haired dwarf smiling up at me from behind a large tome of a book, wearing shortened mage robes. Like Leha's twin, Leha being the evil twin of the pair. That's probably unfair really, this dwarf was a little easier on the eyes. They were of an age though. What the hell was a dwarf doing in the Circle Tower, I wondered to myself. They didn't have magic.

"Eh, yeah," I continued, confused, "Gather your things, bring warm clothes, and if you have boots, put them on. We'll leave tomorrow at first light. Say your goodbyes."

"Right," the dwarf said, "Looking forward to working with you!" She scuttled off quickly, bumping into people as she went and apologising profusely each time, before disappearing into a side room. Very confusing. I caught Irving smirking to himself out of the corner of my eye, and was about to go over and ask him what all that was about. But duty called.

"What about us?" said one of the male prisoners, shaking his chains, "Can we go get our things?"

"We need to talk to you first," I replied, "See what you were thrown in the dungeons for."

"Does that mean we can't come with you?" asked one of the female ones.

"Depends on what you were put away for," I said, "But don't worry, we won't take the Templars word as gospel. We'll investigate as far as we can."

"Gospel?" the woman said.

"Maker's honest truth," Julie said, cutting in from the side, "Don't worry, you'll learn the languages." Orlesian as well as Earth idioms. The prisoners seemed to take solace from her implication that they'd all be coming along, handily ignorant of Julie's warped perception where languages were concerned.

"I still don't think I have," said Tam, arriving with a young girl up in her arms, wrapped around her neck. The youngest apprentice. She worked damn quickly. But I took it as a sign of a new covenant. There weren't many clean victories in Ferelden. In fact, this may be the only one, although I consider another event along with it.

Despite what has been said about the event over the years, I was and remain proud that we got so many out before the wider Mage-Templar War broke out. The children most of all.

* * *

 _AUTHOR'S NOTE: Well, I said I would get this out a month after the last chapter and here we are two or more months afterwards. Apologies to all my readers for the delay. But, on the bright side, it's a monster 17k chapter for you all to chew on. The rolling edit on this is going to be an absolute bitch._

 _We're moving through Ferelden very nicely now._

 _ **Thepkrmgc:** Ferelden is the good guy nation of DA, yeah. Black and white is not how I want to portray the Free Army, not in the slightest. _

_**Katkiller-V:** Teagan's plan made perfect sense for someone who had the information he had, I think. Sam's anger at him is more rooted in his perception of military risk. If you're faced with an overwhelming force, there's no great dishonour in surrender on good terms. Considering the possible alternative, his terms were good. But you're right as to why Teagan told him to piss up a rope; ancestral enemies indeed._

 _I'm looking forward to the Wardens. Remember that they control Amaranthine, is all I can say for now._

 _As for guerrilla style warfare, they've only been in Ferelden for a week at this stage. Word has only really reached Alistair about the time Sam was sailing Lake Calenhad. Organised resistance of any kind is only beginning to materialise, and the exact location of the Free Army remains unknown. That complicates matters._

 _ **5 Coloured Walker:** The Model 39 firelance is functionally an American Civil War era rifled musket, firing Minié balls, but with a flintlock instead of a percussion cap. I determined that to be the best weapon Julie could possibly make with the tech and materials she had, including with magical assistance. They could have shot Teagan easily. _

_Still hardball though. You don't have to slaughter everyone for that to be the case. And a good number of defenders were on the sharp end of that regardless._

 _ **Mireczek:** Nowhere near enough people for an occupation, for a start. Hugely stubborn resistance after any victory, being another reason. _

_**Dekuton:** Exactly. Sam and Julie have to make choices about the survival of their people that are going to put Fereldan lives in danger. _

_**The Fox Paradox 9:** Thanks for reading! Gotta love the binge-read crowd._

 _As for your ideas; the Taint isn't simply a disease, it's a magical corruption, so a biological thing like a sack couldn't do much except keep the person alive but enslaved to the Darkspawn. Something similar to what the Architect did to various Grey Wardens._

 _The other idea with the tattoos has a great deal more merit. I've already established that elven runes could be used to suppress demon infiltration of reality in the Outlanders side story, and that is supported by Solas' magical devices in Inquisition. I may explore the idea of tattoos or magical brands for keeping mages safe from possession._

 _ **Eldagar:** When I say arrows are nocked, I don't mean the bows are drawn, only ready to draw. I have tried to keep reasonably realistic with the bows situation, though I might have slipped here and there. Either way, I'm delighted to hear you like the story._

 _ **Viper0300:** I will, thanks!_

 _ **Amorphis700:** I hope you read past Chapter 22, because Sam's hubris was punished accordingly. I wouldn't describe him as elitist though, merely frustrated with how backwards Orlesian and Thedosian society-at-large is._

 _ **Guest:** It's a rare honour to be considered to have written a story better than a thousand others, so thanks. _

_As for your criticisms, see my comment above about elitism, for a start. Other than that, he's a man confident he's doing what is right in the long term. Doesn't help that those who oppose him tend to trend onto the evil scale strongly, so there's a sort of confirmation bias. We'll see how things go later._

 _As for foreshadowing, enough people have said it now that I've got the message. Tam is perhaps a bad example to use on it, because she was always going to survive and that's been made clear from the start, the how being the interesting part. Still, this chapter's use of that has been toned down, though I doubt I'll throw away the technique entirely._

 _ **ErzherzogKarl:** Thanks for taking the time to make detailed reviews as you've read!_

 _Is Julie a Mary Sue? I don't think she is. Circumstances appear to have created that impression, but it all follows more or less logically._

 _In terms of her political power, she has long standing ties to existing nobility, her ideas found traction due to grievances over royal disputes and economic problems following the Fifth Blight, and she has the backing of a strong military that was recruited around the ideals she puts forth. Still, that power has been and will continue to be challenged._

 _She's not an exceptional beauty. She is beautiful, yeah, but I would hazard to say that Tam is more so. A lot of other people wanting her has to do with power. Downwards with Pierre, upwards now that she's a Marquise. She's Orlesian, as are most of the characters that fit the profile._

 _Not sure she's acted selfishly, quite the opposite, she's a zealot. Perhaps that is a species of selfishness, but a different one. She has created pain and suffering, hunger and war, and people do worship her for it. But why is that? Remember that Hearth and the Free Army are populated almost exclusively with people who believed in her cause. The Army was volunteer only, the town boomed because of it in turn. They believe in the project. This is even more exaggerated when they are exiled, because those that wanted other things rather than her cause left the Army or went home to their families, leaving only the other zealots behind to join her march on Ferelden. That effect is going to be greatly reduced by events later, and we'll see how things go then._

 _What she has done is nothing compared to what the chevaliers have done repeatedly over the years, and what she does is for the benefit of those same victims. At the very least, she believes that, whether or not it's true._

 _Margaery Tyrell is a source of inspiration for Aurelia, yes... just not for her looks haha. Yennefer was the right answer there._

 _I'm aware the darkspawn have craftsmen, it's just that Sam doesn't really._

 _The attitude of the Army towards Ferelden is that of Orlesians. I wanted to make that very clear, that such prejudices don't just go away because of ideology. They are indeed foreign invaders, they understand this on some level._

 _The moral ambiguity of the whole movement created by Julie is very deliberate. When I was coming up with this story, I had ideas of what sort of country she would want to create, and then thought about the realities of creating it. History is littered with nations proclaiming x or y virtue requiring huge sacrifice. Yet people love them all the same. The US is a great example, and Sam is more than willing to tolerate what you may not precisely because he is aware that the path to liberty is strewn with obstacles, setbacks and temporary hypocrisies._

 _That doesn't mean your negative feelings are invalid, quite the contrary. Even in-canon, the autobiography is framed as an attempt by Sam to set the record straight, and he leaves it up to the reader to decide afterwards._


	44. Chapter 44: Schwerpunkt

_AUTHOR'S FOREWORD: It seems alerts were not working for the last chapter, so some of you may not have read the last chapter! I suggest going back and checking that you have before looking at this. Thanks again for reading!_

 **Chapter Forty-Four: Schwerpunkt**

We departed Kinloch Hold in lifted spirits, freed from our burdens for the moment.

The children were responsible for this entirely. The delight they showed on exiting the tower infected the rest of us. The weather had died down to merely being cloudy, so the smaller ones hopped and skipped their way to the ships, while the teenagers chattered to each other in the way that is familiar to highschoolers today.

It was a different experience to seeing the huddled kids of the Army, whom the parents kept as close as possible while on the march through Ferelden. Only our drummer boys and fife girls seemed to have any life in them, probably because they weren't being stifled by their parents' open worries. Or they shared the general élan of the soldiers they were around most of the day. Many were in fact orphans, long before I ever showed up.

It only took a few hours to reach the Calenhad docks, a set of piers next to a tavern for fishermen, teamsters and travellers on the Imperial Highway called the Spoiled Princess. We found two dozen longboats abandoned on the shore, presumably those the Loyalist mages and their Templar escorts had used to get out of Kinloch before our arrival. The tavern too was similarly abandoned, anything of value stripped out of it. Assuming its owner had fled, either from the mages or at the news they had brought of our approach, I commandeered it as our headquarters, happy I wouldn't have to spend the coin to do so.

We hunkered down to wait for the Army to catch up.

We had figured it would take four days, so we prepared accordingly. We constructed a small ring fort around the tavern and the docks, with earth ramparts and wooden stakes, and a watchtower on the hill beyond. We tied up the ships at anchor as close to the shore as possible, except for one.

I sent Fisher down the River Calenhad with one ship, to make sure there wasn't anything that could stop him getting to the sea. I sent a party of Grenadiers a day's march eastwards, to make sure there wasn't a garrison at Caer Bronach and cross the Dane above the falls there. I wish we could have brought horses with us, but we needed all the space on the ships for our people. The merchant vessels able to travel from the Waking Sea to Lake Calenhad are small by necessity. It's why Amaranthine exports the grain of the western Bannorn and not Redcliffe.

All of that took the first day to organise, and the heavens pissed on us the entire time. Naturally, the chevaliers didn't want to help dig fortifications and the newly liberated mages were very eager to. That suited everyone, thought it did cause some tension. It was very lucky that we had brought good provisions, including ale, from Redcliffe, so the tavern felt like a true refuge from the miserable weather and even more miserable work that night.

The second and third days were filled with boredom, and not much else. There was no expectation of either Fereldan forces or our own showing up. The rain stopped just as we finished work, to which I could only think it was damned typical.

The scene on the third day was as follows.

Armen, McNulty and Blondie began the training of the mage volunteers for the Peacekeepers, whom had been signed up and given orientation the day before. It might suffice for a large proportion of the Free Army to lack the military graces I expect, but it certainly wasn't for the Peacekeepers. As expected, all of the Libertarian mages signed up, whereas none from the other fraternities did. Naturally, this meant the recruits were two-thirds female. A source of much bemusement to many.

The troops either relaxed by the lakeshore, in the tavern, or were on picket duty.

Brandon was talking to the mages that hadn't signed up for Army service, seeing to their needs and talking to them at length about our experiences and ideas. Evangelising, in other words.

Barris was with a collection of his Templars, watching both groups of mages but the Libertarians in particular. All of the prisoners from the Tower had volunteered for service, none of them had attempted anything I wouldn't have. Two were accused of attempted use of blood magic to escape, but there was no evidence for that I could find. The Knight-Commander didn't trust them regardless, but left the complaining to Brandon, whom caved quickly.

Mariette had went off to hunt in the woods to the north, as she had the day before. A couple of Grenadiers with hunting experience went with her. Meat wasn't something we could take with us, and let's just say that the invention of the refrigerator was not high on our list.

I watched the whole thing from a crude, rickety chair I had dragged out of the tavern, mug of ale in-hand. We hooked up the music player to the batteries and speakers, and it was playing the classic rock playlist I favoured because it was the only one with songs I knew of. I knew rightly that the next week or two was going to be one shitstorm after the next, so I was enjoying the moment.

Tam was off to one side, with the youngest five or six of the mage children and the ABC chart, teaching them Latin letters in both Orlesian and Common tongues. They caught on fast, young ones are sponges like that.

Julie was to the other side of me, sitting across her chair and leaning forwards on the back of it like I was. Her eyes were turned upwards, moving across a nearby tree, her hands moving a charcoal stylus across large pieces of paper. The eagles were perched there, spreading their wings and grooming themselves. She was drawing them.

The first images she made were the complete animals, the basis for the Eagles we've sewn onto our banners and smelted into gold and silver.

The second were wing shapes. Both face-on and cross sections of the eagles' own at first. Afterwards, Julie's own thoughts. Wings she had seen in the books from Earth, and those of animals she had seen before, that sort of thing.

At about midday, she let out a colossal sigh and stretched upwards in her seat, interrupting Stevie Ray Vaughan's rendition of _Voodoo Child._

"I'm bored," she declared, coming to rest again in the same position she was in previously, "And tired."

I was uneasy too, the lack of activity was unusual for me. Especially at that time, when every day was bursting to the brim with things to attend to. Redcliffe had been an exception, yet one I couldn't appreciate due to the Fereldans hanging around in the castle.

"Don't worry," I said, "Another day, and we'll be moving again. Things are bound to get a little too interesting."

"No, I mean with all of it," Julie clarified, burying her face in her crossed arms across the head of the chair, "How do nobles stomach constant politics? Do they waste so much money on expensive things and so much time on nothing simply to stay sane? If so, perhaps I've judged them wrongly all along."

Never thinking I would ever hear that sort of sentiment come out of Julie, I breathed out a soft laugh, earning a groan back from her in return. How to respond to that!

Tam quietly dismissed the children, sending them back to Brandon's group with a word and a smile. They scurried off past us, the very youngest clutching the ABC chart as she almost tripped up in front of me. I smiled and waved her forward.

"What brings you to these thoughts?" Tam asked Julie, as soon as the children were out of earshot, "Do you waver in your beliefs?"

Julie looked up from her arms, her eyes all steel. "Not even slightly," she said, "The idea that one person or one family or one set of families should rule forever is monstrous. I'm just wondering if I am the right person to make the changes we need. Yesterday, all I did was hear Brandon and Armen argue. I couldn't stop them."

No doubt many find this particular statement ironic in the extreme, but we'll get to how that came about in due course. She had indeed argued a lot with the Grand Cleric and Armen the day before. The Mage-Templar conflict loomed large.

I found her sentiment startling. "You were right about the nobles not tolerating our experiment," I said, "When it became clear they'd come to kill anyone who disagreed with their rule, you rallied the entire Eastern Dales to our side, you raised and armed soldiers, you chose the right people for the positions required, and you'll be largely responsible for the creation of a new nation. How could you possibly be the wrong person for the job?"

"Can't say I disagree, though it's … embarrassing to admit," Julie said, standing up, "But what do I know about administration? Commerce across the realms? Warfare? Diplomacy? Espionage? Close to nothing before I met you, and not enough today. I rely on everyone else to tell me the best course. I can tell right from wrong, and I can make things no one else can, that's all."

"That's more than enough," I replied, "Leaders don't have to be experts in everything, that's why they have advisers."

"They should be experts in _something_ ," said Julie, pointing a finger, "Something relevant to ruling a country."

"Knowing right from wrong is a pretty good one," I pointed back.

"Yes, but there are people with us that know that too," she said, putting her hands on her hips and looking up at the eagles again, "Along with having skills that let them help with the day-to-day stuff. I think Leha would make a better leader for that than I would."

I coughed mid-way through a gulp of ale, amused at the thought of Leha as High Chancellor. Thoughts of male prostitution as a state subsidised profession, people whipped in public for altruism, and the economy as a monopoly under her control flashed through my mind. She would have done it too, if allowed. Julie smirked, reading me like an open book.

"Perhaps a separation of duties is required," Tam said, joining Julie on her feet, "One leader to make sure principles are followed, another to see to ordinary government. Something to give you time to work on things you really love." Tam was a picture of happiness where work was concerned, after all. It was good advice. Julie could really use more time for her own projects, if the whole Army couldn't be considered one.

Like building a flying machine, I thought.

"Julie, Chief Justice of the Supreme Court?" I offered. With the notable exception of one cheeky elven mage, these two were the only ones who'd get what I meant. Julie would have made an infinitely better judge than the man that had sat on the bench during my first visit to Halamshiral.

"That person never gets to change anything," Julie replied, "I am not a great scholar of law. I am a radical and proud, I want to overthrow most laws, make new ones."

"You'd probably explode if you were in charge of a _bas_ land dispute," Tam agreed with amusement, "There has to be some compromise."

My mind flicked back to the warning that Soprano and McNulty had given me. That some in the Army were interested in putting too much power in Julie's hands. Yet she clearly did not want it. I seized the opportunity.

"We'll figure it out," I said, "But for the moment, keep that quiet. People are looking to you like you're Caesar or something."

"I know they are, and I like that," Julie mused, pursing her lips, "I don't know why, but I like them looking to me for the answers. What I don't like is that I don't have all of them to give."

"Power corrupts, Julie," Tam frowned, "I have seen it myself. What happens when people think they can rule unchecked. You must be careful while power remains almost entirely in your hands." Our Qunari lover looked at me pointedly. Her statement was just as much for me as it was for Julie. Not that I needed the reminder, or at least I thought I didn't.

"Don't forget we have to stop at Vigil's Keep too," I reminded her, changing the subject, "We still have no idea how much time you have."

"Or if I will even survive the cure," Tam added, "About half of Grey Warden recruits die at the Joining." Never one to beat about the bush.

"We will make sure you survive," Julie said, "Sam's medicine will help, I'm sure of it."

"That won't help the others," Tam said, "And there is the matter of the Grey Wardens refusing to let us go after the Joining itself."

"I doubt they'll complain once they see our numbers," I said. There were only about a hundred of them in the entire country, after all.

"They can try stopping us from cracking open their fortress," Julie added, "The Grey Wardens are too few in number to resist."

We weren't aware of just how far their capabilities went at that time. Amell and King Alistair were people we thought as exceptional among Grey Wardens, rather than Grey Wardens being exceptional among men.

Ferelden had already seen what happens when the Order are underestimated; at Soldier's Peak, a few hundred held out against the entire kingdom for far longer than should have been possible. Part of that was the excellence of fortifications there, I had occasion to inspect them some years later, but assault after assault being repelled was also testament to the skill and valour of the Grey Wardens.

How far they fell...

I began to explain that wasting good powder and shells on the Wardens wasn't the best idea, but the rapid chomping of boots on the ground behind me. It was Mariette and rest of the hunting party, armed with composite recurve bows of the sort Ciara had made specifically for taking on large game. We didn't have radios, I had left them with the Army, feeling they'd be more useful there. I turned off the music with a groan, thumbing the glowing screen.

"Marquis!" Mariette cried out, "It's the Fereldans!"

"How many!" I shouted back, getting off the chair so fast that its front legs broke, sening it forwards in splinters.

"Too many for us," said Mariette, gesturing to the party of four or so, "They're on horses too. If you gather them now, your firelancers out can take them."

" _Our_ firelancers," Tam said, correcting her. Mariette inclined her head in agreement.

"What if it's the front of the Royal Army?" Julie asked me, "Can we hold?"

"That's why we were digging these damned ramparts," I said calmly, "The rest of our people are only a day away. We'll hold. In the mean time..."

I turned around towards the mages, whom were looking over with interest at the commotion.

"McNulty!" I shouted, "Grenadiers, front and center!"

The general began snapping off orders, and the sergeants began shouting them. The Grenadiers around the camp began gathering up their firelances and rushed to the open space in the middle of the ringfort, forming ranks. The mages looked on with astonishment at how quickly that was happening, while the chevaliers on the ramparts ignored them, keeping a closer eye out on the wilderness beyond, while Fisher's people did the same from the rigging of the ships.

Blondie and Armen came striding up. Blondie first, clearly in a hurry to say something.

"Marquis, if I may be so bold," she said rapidly through her mask, "I am beginning to think you have no use for my chevaliers."

"On foot against cavalry?" I said back coolly, "Not much, no." Horses not being things we could have brought in any large numbers on the ships we had. Never let it be said that the Guard were not formidable fighters dismounted, but they didn't use spears all that often and they weren't light enough to go around chasing anyone.

"Guard the Marquise," said Tam, "It is not a competition. We all have our place here. That is yours, at this moment."

Louise's mask twitched sideways, the person behind it undoubtedly shocked to hear a command issuing from Tam's mouth. swivelled towards me, inquiring if that was indeed the order I would give. As it would keep her busy, and give me an excuse to keep Julie behind the ramparts, I gave a single nod.

"By your command, Marquis," the chevalier said.

"Same for you Armen," I said, "Your people aren't ready yet."

"Definitely," the mage replied, "We're still figuring out who can do what and assigning them."

With the defence of the ships and those unwilling to fight organised, I left the group, pulling my firelance off my back and into my hands. I heard the light padding of Mariette behind me, which was good because I needed her to tell me where the Fereldans were coming from. McNulty was waiting.

"Marquis, we're ready," he said, gesturing to his troops.

"With me," I replied, before turning to Mariette, "The enemy are on the Highway, right?"

"They were some way off along it, but yes," the harlequin replied, "Twenty or so on horseback."

"Let's go," I said.

I began jogging to the wooden gate we had made out of some of the longboats' planks, the chevaliers swinging it open to allow the passage of the regiment behind me. McNulty and Mariette were right beside me. Julie, Tam and Armen watched us pass, the former two wide-eyed with worry and standing straighter than usual as if restraining themselves from running to join us, the latter giving me an ironic two-finger salute for luck.

Both behaviours gave me new wind. Julie and Tam cared enough to want to come, Armen trusted me enough to know I'd handle matters.

It was only a short march to the Imperial Highway, on a cartway cutting through the thick forests that bordered the lake directly.

If the Orlesian routes are a six-lane Interstate, Ferelden's are a three-lane state highway. Nowhere near as impressive in construction or ornamentation, but more than enough for our purposes. Not entirely unlike the Deep Roads, in fact. Near the docks, they were still fully intact, even the ramps allowing access to them being in good shape.

The cartpath winds through the forest in an S shape, avoiding the hill we had built our watchtower on and its neighbour. This obscured any view of the Highway itself until we were at the ramp. When we got there, things began to get weird almost immediately.

A thick, thoroughly unnatural fog rolled forwards off of the raised road, pouring down into the forest and obscuring us. Unnatural not only in its suddenness and complete wrong timing; it was the middle of the day. Unnatural because it was tinged a slight green. Magically induced, I thought, it must be.

Recognising concealment measures when I saw them, I stopped dead, dropped to my knee and brought my firelance to my cheek, looking down the sights. The Grenadiers fanned out to the sides behind me, taking cover behind trees, the air filled with the sound of them cocking the flints of their far more primitive firelances and snapping on their bayonets.

When I ducked, most of the Army took it as a good idea to duck too.

I swept the barrel of my weapon from side to side, looking for a target, listening for any sign. There was nothing. Sound seemed to be muffled too. Straining to hear, I could have sworn I heard the neighing of horses. The Fereldans were somewhere nearby, that was for sure, and they knew we were near.

But if there was one thing I wasn't really afraid of, it was magic.

I stood up again and took a step forward, hoping my immunity might disperse the fog enough for the others to get a clear shot. As soon as I did, a half dozen bolts of fire the same size as my head burst from the mists and flew straight at me, sending the fog swirling at the points the fire pierced it. Quite the show.

The expected happened. The bolts burst against me harmlessly, the fire dying even before it came into contact with me.

Shaking my head just once to express my utter contempt, knowing the mage could see me, I returned his favour with extreme prejudice. I tracked where the bolts had come from and opened fire, sending burst after burst through the magical fog starting at the point of exit of the bolts and moving left and right outwards from it.

The Grenadiers lost little time in following suit, opening fire at random into the fog, the snap-echoes of the shots blocked by the trees.

I'm not quite sure which of us hit the opposing enchanter. He was only clipped rather than outright shot dead, probably protected by a decently powerful barrier bubble, but the fog died in seconds once he felt the sting.

Forty or so Fereldans materialised ahead and above us on the ramp. Very lightly armoured, only their captain having even a scrap of chainmail. They were all armed with spears, not worthy of the title of lance by any means. It seems they had planned to use the fog to incapacitate us, but instead, those on horseback were helping those that had been wounded or that had lost their horses to the Grenadier's volley. Only one or two lay killed on the ground, and they had been my victims alone.

Which should have meant we had them all stone cold dead. I felt a rising sense of victory in my chest as I saw it, their sheer vulnerability without the cover of smoke. Yet I noticed that no follow up shots came from behind me. The Grenadiers had shot everything they had. I was empty too.

The Fereldans' scrambled up the ramp and back onto the safety of the Highway once more, chased only by one or two arrows from Mariette, before the Grenadiers let loose their second volley. It did little but smear lead across the limestone face of the raised road, the Fereldans galloping away as fast as their horses could take them.

I cursed and kicked the dirt once, getting a satisfying clump of mud moving with the effort. That helped a little.

"Well, that's it!" I said, "Alistair and Anora will know by the end of the week that we're not going anywhere just yet. So much for the element of surprise."

"Marquis, surely you don't think they can defeat us," Mariette said, "Look how easily we saw them off!"

"With magic like that, who knows," McNulty said, "You're lucky you don't have to worry about magic, my lord. That attack would have killed many lesser men. Even Templars."

"That's nothing to worry about," I said, rubbing my neck and closing my eyes to soothe my frustration, "Neither are the Fereldans really. The problem is that once Alistair hears we're east of where we should be if we were leaving, he'll speed up the gathering of his army. Now we'll definitely have to crush it."

"Which is what Gaspard wants," McNulty said, completing my complaint for me.

* * *

The Army was three days late when it finally arrived, Isewen's Lancers leading the way in the morning, followed by the Avvars at lunch time and the rest of the army in the evening.

By which time I was tearing my hair out with worry.

It was a week long journey to Denerim from where we were. By the time our columns drew up in the night camp on the other side of the Imperial Highway, the Fereldan scouting party was already half-way towards their capital, with news that we were east of Lake Calenhad and heading deeper into their country, not out of it.

The only silver lining was that our scouting party of Grenadiers and Fisher's expedition came back from Crestwood and the sea, and they had found no waiting army or fleet to block our way. Even that was tainted by the news that Caer Bronach was occupied by bandits, and it sat right on the main route past the dam, the village and up into the hills. The Dane itself flows off a cliff and into Lake Crestwood, created by an old Tevinter dam over which the Imperial Highway technically goes.

The famous battle was fought on the heights above, because it makes far more sense for an army to cross the broad ford there than the narrow top of the dam. It was the route we planned to take.

By the time all our people had arrived, Soprano taking up the rear, it was halfway to midnight.

I wanted an explanation for the delay, but the war council could wait for morning. Not everyone was awake, and I wanted clear heads for discussing what had to come next. So, I organised the usual pickets and went back to the tavern, where I fell into the pleasant surroundings of a large bed and the embrace of two women I loved.

As at Redcliffe, I slept for a long time, but that morning, so did Julie and Tam.

I woke when Tam shifted slightly, barely conscious. Registering the movement, I cracked open my eyes for no other reason than I wanted to get a glimpse of what time it was. Julie was in the middle that night, apparently feeling cold. She was curled up in a ball between us under the furs, red-brown hair spraying out over Tam's arm where it met the Qunari's electric silver-blonde.

Nothing out of the ordinary at first glance in my blurry, fatigued, worried state of vision and thinking. I looked around, trying to get my arm up to check my watch to see if it was early or late. That action shifted my body and head, earning a groan from Julie. Which put a certain thing in my sight.

Tam's arm was spread out at the head of the bed. Through her skin, her blood vessels were black, a dark web stretching over her light grey skin. My eyes traced the lines to her shoulder and neck.

Pure terror flooded my mind, for Tam, for Julie and I. Did this mean Tam was as good as dead? Did it mean we were infected now too? Markham's assurances seemed utterly empty in that moment, the visibility of the Taint overwhelming them. My throat closed and I rasped involuntarily, struggling to breath. As soon as I drew the first real breath, I regained my senses and pulled away sharply, checking myself for the same black infiltration of my veins.

There was none to be seen.

I collapsed back down onto the bed with selfish relief, like the threat of my own death being gone was a real consolation. The realisation made me sick with guilt, and I corrected sharply, sitting up and looking over at the other two in the bed.

They were both looking at me like I had lost my mind. Perhaps I had.

"Sam," Julie asked, "Are you alright?"

"No," I panted, my mind racing to find the words, "Now, I want you to stay calm..."

"What are you talking about?" Tam asked with a yawn, reaching over to pull me back down. I flinched without thinking, not from her touch but because she was placing her arm in front of all of our eyes.

Julie was as quick on the draw as ever. Her own hand whipped out and grabbed Tam's arm in mid-air, her eyes going as wide as plates as they followed the Taint up Tam's arm and onto her body. Tam herself froze, finally noticing what was going on.

"We need to get you to Vigil's Keep _now,_ " Julie said, her voice wavering a little, "Do you feel any different?"

"No!" Tam objected, "I feel as healthy as ever."

"Do you think it's the tinctures?" Julie said, her head spinning to look at me, "They're black."

"Could be," I said, "For now, we need to get her to Markham."

Julie and I both grabbed Tam and pulled her from the bed to her feet, an indignity she tolerated with great grace. She simply shrugged the both of us off when she was finally standing, her stature and physique making it child's play. She turned to us.

"You need to call the war council," Tam said, "I'm not dead yet. I'm sure all the others are worried too, if this is happening to them. I'll go to them, try and calm things down. If you two aren't infected, then I can show everyone that they are not to be feared as contagious."

Another stab of guilt in my gut.

"Okay, that's a good idea," I said, banishing the thought, "Let's do that." I already had thoughts on how to proceed, cooked up during the waiting of the past few days.

* * *

We did as Tam said. We let her go to the medical tents, while I sent runners to the council to assemble. They did so in the common room of the Spoiled Princess, as almost seemed like tradition by that point.

The leaders filed in, feeling the sombre mood in the air and reacting accordingly. Armen and Ciara's cheery presences were absent, needed more at the medical tents no doubt. Only Mike, indefatigable as ever, kept her usual demeanour. Everyone else was cowed. That was how obvious the unease of both myself and Julie was, and no doubt we were scaring the shit out of some of them. When everyone necessary was present, I got straight to business, hoping to put them at ease by keeping professional.

"First thing I want to know," I asked, calmly but firmly, "Is why you are late."

Soprano took a single step forward to the large table we had chosen. "I take full responsibility, Marquis," she said, "I insisted on tactics that slowed us down while.."

I raised my hand to stop her. "I'm not here to place blame," I said, "We have bigger fish to fry, and I left you in command for a reason. I just need to know why you're late."

"We encountered the dragon cultists and local bandits, my lord," Soprano answered snappily, "The bad weather slowed our march and washed out parts of the route, and the cultists took advantage."

"Losses?" I asked.

"None," Soprano replied, "Colonel Isewen wanted to deploy her Lancers and the Avvars against the cultists directly, which may have sped our course, but I denied her request. Colonel Velarana suggested we use the mages to screen our advance instead, which was slower but less risky to both ourselves and the locals. I agreed."

"Good job," I said, to Soprano, Isewen and Velarana, "But now we have two problems."

I looked down at the map, and placed my finger at our position.

"Three days ago, a Fereldan scouting party attempted to recce our camp," I explained, "They came from the Imperial Highway. I don't know whether they were sent by a noble or the Crown, but they managed to get away with minimal casualties."

My finger tracked all the way to Denerim. "By now, they're halfway to the capital, with the news that we're coming."

"It appears I will get the battle I have prayed for," said Louise, her mask angled down at the table, "Assuming that Arl Teagan sent out the call to arms, we can count on the Royal Army make its appearance in a week, two at the most."

"It will take us a week to reach the junction of the Imperial Highway to the Pilgrim's Path at Vigil's Keep," I said, "That's assuming the Fereldans don't attempt to slow us down, which they almost certainly will if we give them time to organise further. They'll meet us before the junction in that case."

"I am going to guess that is unacceptable," said Barris, "There was a disturbance at the medical tents this morning, something about the Taint spreading."

"If you mean that time is running out for all the Tainted," Markham frowned, "You'd be right. They have shown the signs."

I swallowed a lump in my throat quickly.

"How long do they have?" Julie asked.

"A month until they succomb entirely," Markham answered softly, "But in half that time, they will begin to lose pieces of their minds. The dwarven tinctures become less and less effective over time. In truth, they are created to prevent the Taint from infecting a host, their ability to fight it off in people who are already infected is limited. This is why the black spreads in their blood, following the Taint as it spreads inside the bod..."

I held up my hand again and stopped him there, nodding to show that I got the picture. I didn't need or want to hear how Tam was dying.

"We need to move more quickly," said Mariette, "Yet we cannot."

"Yes, we can," I replied, "It will be difficult, and risky, but I believe we can."

"You want to split up the Army again," Soprano frowned, her guess exactly correct, "Marquis, is that wise?"

"If I was back home on Earth, I'd say no," I replied, "But the Fereldans are stumbling around in the dark, not sure exactly where we are or how fast they can move. Let's assume they make the calculation that they have a week or two before we reach Denerim. If we break that expectation, they'll get scared and we gain more time."

"And make it through to Vigil's Keep without trouble," said McNulty, nodding, "But how?"

"First thing, we load up all the industrial and smithing equipment we have on wagons onto the ships. Fisher, you can take them downriver to the sea. You'll sail to the islands off of Amaranthine. Is that feasible?"

"Very, Marquis," Fisher replied, "The Storm Coast has a bad reputation, but it's well known to all Jaderites. Some of the best fishing is there, and Ferelden has no real navy to speak of, so we know the region quite well." The man's name was no coincidence.

"Great," I smiled, that small piece of the puzzle cheering me up, "We can then use the wagon space to move our slowest people. We'll send up a signal for you to come into Amaranthine's harbour when we arrive."

"And if we never arrive," Julie added, "Get your families to the Free Marches and live well."

"The trick with the ships and wagons might buy you a day's march," said Leha, "Not enough."

"I agree with the quartermaster," said Louise, "All the more so if the Fereldans are using mages. They could ambush us at any number of points on the route if we are not careful."

"That is why we are going to divide the army," I said, "I will take the Peacekeepers ahead, fully mounted, every battery of artillery with us. The Tainted too. We'll blitz up the Imperial Highway, seize control of these hills overlooking the junction, and send the Tainted to the Wardens to be Joined."

"That will blow away the advantage of having the spare wagons," Leha said, "The rear columns would move too slowly."

"But the forward element of the Army will move much faster," Louise countered, "We could be at Vigil's Keep. The Fereldans wouldn't be able to tell it was only part of the Army until it was too late. They'd assume it was our entire force."

"Exactly," I said, "We're relying on the fact that they cannot communicate with their High Command fast enough. By the time the news that our forces have split arrives in Alistair's hands, they will be close to rejoining again."

"What if the nobles in the Bannorn raise their own vassals independently?" Leha asked, "They could attack without warning."

"That's why we're leaving the bulk of our forces behind," I replied, "I doubt the banns can summon enough troops to challenge the twenty thousand that will remain, even without magic and firearms."

"And they won't know the Army has split up either," Mariette pointed out, "Think about it. If they see the rear camp, they will simply assume it is the entire Army."

"Aha, a double bluff," said McNulty with a grin, "I'm beginning to like this plan. We can blindside them entirely."

"That's why it'll work," I said, "The first column marches out at noon, under Soprano's command. The second will march out tomorrow, after the fleet is loaded and departed. We'll assign the Isolationist mages to all three elements, and I've written down some colour-coded signals. We can communicate with them in emergencies."

I placed the piece of paper on the table.

"Julie, you'll stay with the rear column," I said, "If they see you are staying, they won't feel any less safe." I also had no intention of letting her watch Tam take the Joining.

Julie was quiet, staring at the map for a few moments. She wanted to argue it. She wanted to come. But she saw my logic, and her duty. "Take Ciara and Armen with you," she said, "You need someone to keep you safe."

"Marquise, that is my job," Louise bristled, "You have no reason to worry."

"Lady de Villars, you follow his orders," Julie replied with a small smile, "I appreciate your promise, but you can't protect him from himself."

"I wasn't aware I required protection from myself," I said.

"You do," Julie insisted, smiling at last, "And if you ordered Ciara to stop protecting you, she'd tell you to piss up a rope."

The entire war council broke out in raucous, unrestrained laughter. Julie's smile and her joke broke the tension of the situation cleanly, and the lack of it made them a little giddy. Enough to make them laugh far too much.

I shook my head, the sick feeling of dread that had filled me earlier lifting fully at last. We had a plan. A good one. I let the council have their laugh.

"Let's get it done."

* * *

The frantic preparations lasted the entire morning. The civilians watched with consternation, as their family, friends and neighbours prepared for battle. Bags were packed with a week's rations, powder doled out to and weapons readied. Then and now, I was amazed at the commitment of those outside the army as much as I was by those within it. Hearth had been a centre of revolution, and it showed in the exiles. And they all looked to us to secure the freedoms we had promised, in a land across the sea.

I intended to assure that dream would come to reality, swearing to myself that I would make it to the Pilgrim's Path before Alistair could block it.

We said our goodbyes to Julie and Leha, the former tearful, the latter pretending not to care but just as worried. The Peacekeepers, all but one of the regular firelancer regiments and the artillery gunners mounted up.

Eleven thousand or so, riding every animal worthy of the name 'horse' that we had on hand. Four thousand firelancers, two thousand chevaliers, squires and lancers, a hundred Templars, a hundred Hospitallers, nearly a thousand Aequitarian, Libertarian and Lucrosian mages, a thousand gunners Tranquil and accompaniers, a thousand pikemen, a thousand crossbow-women, a thousand Highlanders, and eighty artillery pieces.

In other words, every hard hitting part of our army, every unit that could take on more than their own number, every object of fear for those opposing us.

A note about the mage numbers; we had rescued about five hundred from the Wolf's Lair, but the freedom our Circle offered had attracted pretty much every secret mage in the Dales to us. You would be surprised how many mages manage to live their lives entirely undetected. No great notice was paid to it, because the increase in the numbers was subtle, a constant trickle spread out over time. Velarana also made great pains to hide it, even from me, out of fear of provoking hatred. Barris had cooperated, the idealist that he was.

Together with our Fereldan recruits, we had more than a thousand adult mages in total and perhaps two hundred underaged apprentices. This was in fact the first time I was made fully aware of the fact. The number that had served in the Army had only really been drawn from the original five hundred or so.

It was of no great significance before, but it would be later.

We did not ride hard, but not easy either. Say what you want about the weather, but the country between the Northern hills and the Bannorn is beautiful. The area around Crestwood in particular. From the top of the hillside, you get a great view of the lake, the village, the great waterfall, and of Caer Bronach.

Another notable place we passed on the first day was the ford of the Dane. There is a wide, rapid flowing set of shallows there, where it splits into two, the main stream continuing as the Dane and the second stream as the River Crestwood flowing to the waterfall. Not hard to see why the Orlesian legions would prefer it. For those that haven't seen it, imagine ankle high water the same width as a football field moving between two forests, with small banks protecting them. The second-most vulnerable potential route to Denerim from Orlais.

As I watched our own cavalry cross the river, Isewen's Lancers and Blondie's knights leading the way, I could almost imagine Loghain Mac Tir ordering his longbows to shower them with arrows, the horses slowed by the water and loose smooth stones under it. I imagined what would have happened if it had been my army facing Alistair's in the same place. The artillery raking the opposite side, the smoke wafting in the air between the banks, the firelancers advancing in line across the ford, the clash of bayonets and swords. The casualties such a thing would have almost certainly wrought on our people.

Had we played nice and asked for permission to be where we were, rather than striking hard and fast, it would have almost certainly been a reality.

The Fereldans are no less biased towards Orlesians than the opposite. The Orlesians believe themselves superior, not just the nobles but all the way down to the last peasant. A convenient piece of propaganda to keep the Empire together. You might be oppressed, but at least you're not under some savage doglord. The Fereldans themselves rightfully regard Orlesians as invaders, and could never have tolerated us in their country under arms. And we would have never disarmed.

The rest of the journey was less scenic after a while. Once we passed the road to West Hill, well worn as it was, it was karst hills and mountains to the left, farmlands to the right as far as the eyes can see for days on end. This was interesting in itself.

On the right side of the Highway, farm tracks, wagon trails and muddy roads found their way to the ramps, both the original stone ones and more recent earthen ones, across the entire route. Isewen noted the presence of many boot imprints in a number of them, confirming my assumption that Teagan had sent out a call to arms across the Bannorn to rally at Denerim.

On the left, it was obvious the hills were inhabited, and not by the Avvars or Dalish that might find the rugged terrain of use. In the day, smoke trails in the sky announced the presence of people. At night, the far off orange spark of campfires. No doubt they saw ours. I ordered that we light more fires than we needed to exaggerate our numbers from a distance, just in case, but one thing was clear. The civilians of the northern Bannorn had fled their farms, fearing the pillage and rapine of the chevaliers of old.

Needless to say, I think Soprano would have lined up every single one of Louise's cohorts and shot them had they acted as their predecessors had some fifty years earlier. But the peasants didn't know that. No doubt those further south were fleeing elsewhere, into the Southron Hills or the Brecillian. Alistair had conducted campaigns in those places and into the Blightlands aroung Lothering, making them far safer than before. Work that would be undone a little more than a year after we passed.

The condition of Tam and the others got noticeably worse as time went on. On the second day, they complained of fatigue even after a full night's sleep. By the third, some were hearing garbled voices. By the fourth, all of them were, Tam included. The voices were getting far less garbled and far more violent. Tam tossed and turned all of the fourth night, unable to sleep.

I had enough.

I brought her to Markham and gave her one of my two antibiotic medicines, in private. The voices died almost immediately, the black in her veins retreated significantly over the rest of the night, but the Taint remained. Unfortunately for the Tainted everywhere, it appears that only Earth-origin medicines have this effect. Experiments with penicillin made on Thedas have failed to produce the same results.

The fifth day marked two events.

The first was the discovery of our force by the Fereldans yet again. The Lancers spotted a strong party of armoured knights, and they spotted the Lancers. According to Isewen, they probably could have beaten our Lancers too, but drew off to report the news, no doubt having been ordered to find us by Alistair. Denerim was only two days away south-east from our position. As was Amaranthine to the north, our tantalising and final objective in Ferelden.

The second was our arrival on the junction of the Imperial Highway with the section called the Pilgrim's Path, where the faithful of Andraste north and south journey. Amaranthine, as well as being the prime port city of the country, was also where the Chant of Light was first revealed. Denerim is the birthplace of Andraste. The pilgrims in question arrive at Amaranthine, the safest port, travel on foot to Denerim, and back again. In the south and in the Free Marches in particular, it is considered proper to do this at least once in your life. For the Northern Chantry, it's usually only clerics that perform it.

Overlooking the junction and the River Hafter beyond was the imposing sight of Vigil's Keep itself, cut into the solitary mountain, separating the Fereval Plains from the Bannorn to the south, one of the reasons for Amaranthine's strategic importance other than its port.

The foothills made for excellent positions, particularly the two nearest the bridge over the Hafter. I thought to block it, but there were numerous fording points on it according to Barris and Louise, so there was little point. I ordered the army to dig in on top of the two hills and across the highway itself, which was not raised at this section. Amaranthine's walls were made of parts of the highway in the same manner that Redcliffe's are.

The cannon and firelancers were stationed on the hills. The cavalry, pike-crossbow tercios, the Templars and the mages would make up the centre, bulging outwards towards the bridge, so that if the Fereldans did reach the lines, we could back off into the small valley behind. I sent Isewen over the bridge to look for the Fereldans.

Only when I was satisfied that my orders for all of the above would be carried out perfectly, did we attend to the other reason for our haste. As important as curing the Tainted was, particularly Tam, it was far more important that the route to Amaranthine be kept open.

I ordered Markham to assemble the Hospitallers and the Tainted, and to join Tam and I in the single large tent we had brought for use as a planning room, behind the lines by the side of the Highway. Before we went to see the Grey Wardens, I had a present to give him.

He entered with his usual gruff aloofness, which you might mistake for utmost professionalism if it wasn't for his permanent scowl. That he was the polar opposite to Armen was emphasized by the fact that my companion followed into the tent directly afterwards, Ciara with him, his perpetual grin attached firmly.

I took a moment to appreciate the contrast, jarring as it was, until Armen jerked his head at the Nevarran healer, telling me to get on with it. I waved him off, and greeted the man I had actually ordered to be there.

"Knight-Master Markham," I said, "Before we attend to the Wardens, there is one thing I have to do."

"I don't see what," Markham bitched immediately, "We have everything we need. Time is of the essence." Shy about his opinions, the man was not. Lucky he was a fucking great healer, or else I would have found this less funny in a subordinate.

"This will only take a few minutes," Tam said, "We have something for you." Markham's scowl intensified, but he said nothing, likely on account that Tam was one of the patients he was so worried about.

I reached back behind me and grabbed the furled flag from the table. Together, Tam and I unfurled it between us, revealing it to the audience of three. It was a large white croix pattée centred on a black field, evenly proportioned, to my memory the symbol of the Hospitallers on Earth and now widely known on this world. Beneath the cross was a single word.

 _MARKHAM_

"Every order of knights needs a standard," I said, "This is yours."

The Knight-Master looked at it for several seconds, and his scowl visibly reduced to the lowest level I had seen. I could have sworn there was a small smile on his face, but my memory might be wrong.

"This will be useful," he said politely, "Thank you Marquis, Mistress Tam. I will honour it."

I laughed, out of exasperation. "You're a hard man to compliment, Markham," I said, rolling up the flag again and giving it to him, "Get this on a pole and get it flying. We're going to Vigil's Keep."

"By your order," Markham replied, half-running out of the tent.

If only to shave seconds off the journey to the Wardens. Have to admire his dedication to cause, at least. He was going to have a heart attack if he kept up the pace he was going, I thought, which would have been a great pity. Lucky us, we were only two days from Amaranthine.

"That one is definitely an anti-social type," Armen smiled, "Needs to think more positive thoughts."

"He's a healer," Tam replied, "He sees things daily that would give you nightmares."

"You can fight nightmares with magic," Armen said, all wit, "One of the advantages of being a mage."

"Also a disadvantage that you need to fight your nightmares at all," Tam frowned back, "The rest of us just wake up, _saarebas._ "

"He sleeps easily enough," Ciara chirped, "Let's go get you healed. No point waiting."

"No point at all," Tam agreed, "The Joining will save me, or it will kill me."

I suddenly wanted to wait a little. "Guys, can you go outside for a minute?"

Armen looked like he wanted to know why, but Ciara took him by the hand. "Sure, see you out there," she said happily, before dragging him away out of the tent's flap.

I turned to Tam. She knew what I wanted to do. We came together, and she kissed me. Not lustfully, as we had done so many times before, or as a small moment of affection. This was long but soft. The 'I might die soon' kiss, where only one of us was facing that outcome.

We broke off. "Don't die, god damn it," I said.

"I'll try not to," Tam smiled widely, "I think my chances are good, thanks to your medicine."

"You can take it again just before you drink the blood-lyrium cocktail," I joked, "Hopefully the Taint will be too weak to take you."

Tam nodded.

With that, we exited the tent and found the Hospitallers' flag flying over the column of a hundred troops, armed with firelances or mage-staves, and about a hundred Tainted soldiers. Enough to put on a show, but not enough to intimidate. I doubted that people willing to sacrifice their lives to kill a magical dragon were going to be taken with intimidation, not least the Warden-Commander. Markham was at the head of the troops, waiting with his arms crossed resting over the front of his saddle, impatient.

Both de Villars cousins, Louise holding Bellona's reins, and McNulty, holding my own UN standard, stood by and looked on. Ciara took the flag of light blue from the Grenadier-General when it was offered, and stood beside Tam and I, looking up at us with strange happiness. Regardless of what was about to happen, Ciara was glad to have known Tam.

I mounted Bellona, Tam mounted Fritz, Armen and Ciara mounted two Dalish coursers, Blondie and Mariette mounted their own horses, while everyone else awaited my command. Which I duly gave.

"Move out!"

* * *

The ride to Vigil's Keep from our lines was short, less than half an hour.

From the very first minute, I could tell it had once been an impressive defence structure.

It had two curtain walls, multiple watchtowers, and a central castle that was built straight into the rock of the mountainside behind it. The Orlesians had seized it as a matter of priority during their initial invasion. It had been the hardest nut to crack for the Fereldans during their rebellion. It was the site of a large battle in 9:31, a darkspawn army laying siege to it and very nearly taking it, as only a minimal garrison had been left behind due to a similar attack on Amaranthine required most of the Wardens to repulse.

The effects of the last battle on the Keep were still there, like fresh wounds.

The outer curtain wall was not repaired at all, and remained breached in several places, the rubble strewn about where it had originally fallen. The outer watchtowers were also smashed save the two on the central road. The inner wall and towers had been been repaired, but the stone used was different to the original, slightly paler. You could see where the darkspawn had attacked.

But the banners of the Wardens still flew from every part of the structure, grey griffons on deep blue fields.

We approached at a bare trot on the long, narrow path towards it, observed at every moment by a single archer on the outermost intact tower, until they decided to exit, sliding down a rope that hung from it.

"Looks like we just lost the element of surprise," I said to no one in particular.

"Did we need it?" Louise asked from one side of me, insisting that was her place.

"Nope," said Ciara from the other, her being there for much the same reason as the chevalier.

"We shall be testing whether or not the Grey Wardens are as principled as the tales say then," Armen said from behind.

"They are," Markham warned, "Trust me."

"That bodes well," Tam said, betraying no emotion.

We rode past the ruins of the outer wall, through the gateway, into the civilian settlement. It seemed to be a marketplace for almost anything, but for merchants rather than ordinary customers. Most of the buildings looked to be warehouses.

Waiting for us along the main street was a collection of people, civilians behind soldiers lining the road to the second gate. The latter of whom I assumed were Wardens. The detail that struck me the most was that every single one of them was decked out in silverite plate or chainmail armour. Not merely steel.

My eyebrows raised at the sheer extravagance. Admittedly, all of our firearms were made of the stuff, or their barrels at the least, but we had made them in the very centre of silverite smithing of Orlais, with raw materials taken from the largest silverite mine on Thedas. We hadn't bought it, and I assumed the Wardens had. In truth, there was a large vein of silverite in the Wending Wood, not far from the Vigil. Regardless, it made an impression.

Another noticed a different peculiar fact.

"Why are they all dwarves and elves?" Mariette asked, "Do the Grey Wardens of Ferelden not recruit humans?" Count on the noble to notice the racial makeup first, I thought unkindly.

Tam hummed in consideration. "That would fit the character of the former Warden-Commander," she said, "He was fond of burning down all conventions. The Arishok was fond of him for that, seeing Ferelden's traditions as useless at best."

I nudged Bellona towards the stables, which were large and empty but still not large and empty enough for all two hundred or so of us. It's not like we could have fit the horses in anywhere past the second gate, and they were still closed to us. I dismounted and tied up Bellona, before letting the others do the same and moving past the throng to see how our hosts were acting.

The silverite-clad soldiers had followed us, but their weapons were held at rest, seemingly content that our intentions weren't hostile. Or they had orders. The dwarves and elves watched us closely, shining in what little sunlight there was through the cracks in the almost full cloud cover.

I stood waiting for one of the Wardens to address us, something that took a strangely long amount of time. By then, the others had drawn up beside and behind me, the Hospitallers in company formation, the Tainted helping each other stand in no particular order, the leaders to either side. Our hosts seemed to change when they finally noted the blackened blood vessels across the skin of our sick comrades, softening and whispering to each other.

Finally, there was shouting from behind the guards and they made way. Three dwarves stepped through the gap.

The first was a huge specimen of a man... or dwarf. Looked like he could bend railroad, he was so well built. His red-orange hair and beard, the huge double-sided axe across his shoulder, the silverite armour; here was a dwarf as imagined by the people of my world. He even smelled right; of booze, exertion and cooked meat.

The second and third were a female dwarf and a younger male, which thinking back was probably about eight or nine years old, but I had no experience in judging the ages of dwarf children back then. The younger male's hair was the same as the elder, but his face was more like the female.

Parents then, I decided, but why were they all there?

The male dwarf's eyes quickly found the Tainted, and the look of pity that fell on his face was something to behold. He let out a colossal sigh, rubbed his face for a moment, before approaching me.

"I see why you fanciful buggers came to us," he said, "I'm Oghren."

He said nothing more and waited, as if that was enough. His reputation was supposed to precede him. Perhaps in Ferelden, it did. But not in Orlais. Tam and I glanced at each other, wondering just what he was expecting.

The female dwarf smiled at her male counterpart, not naturally either. "Warden-Constable of Vigil's Keep," she prompted.

"Oh, yeah!" Oghren said, reminded of his own rank, "That's why it's always good to have a fine woman around. Keep you on the straight and narrow."

His eyes ran up and down Tam for a few seconds. "Seems you already had that idea," he added, "Heh."

I found the whole thing so absurd, it was funny. I could have heard Louise de Villar's scoff on Mars, which made it even more amusing. I can only imagine what he would have done if Julie had been present also. "I suppose I have," I laughed back, "We require your assistance."

"I can see that," Oghren said, pulling his beard's two plaided strands in thought, "Good thing we have the materials. The Joining isn't just something we can whip up out of thin air. Sort of like a good drink, it requires ingredients."

"We know," Tam said, becoming impatient, "All about the ingredients, how the Wardens kill the archdemon, and how Amell survived. I was a confidant of the one you know as Sten. You are the dwarf he spoke of, are you not? Take us to the Warden-Commander, or give us the Joining yourself if you are in command here."

"If all that's true, how is the huge mute?" Oghren proclaimed, "Much better with his sword back, I bet?" Unphased by our supposed knowledge of his Order's secrets. Then again, he didn't strike me as the scrupulous type.

"He's Arishok now," Tam said flatly, "Leader of the Qun's armies and fleets."

"Really?" said Oghren, his voice more on edge, "That isn't good news for anyone. Vicious thunderhumper in a fight, that one. An army under him..."

"Agreed," Tam continued, "But right now, we need the Joining, so if you can..."

"We'll take you to the Warden-Commander right away," the female dwarf interrupted, before turning to her companion, "Won't we, Oghren?"

Oghren gave himself one last tug on his beard, before shrugging, which was no mean feat when you're wearing pauldrons of silverite. "Sure, why not?" he said, "She wants to speak to them anyway, but Orlesian or not, she's not likely to help."

"We have much to offer, Warden," said Mariette de Villars, "She would be wise to listen."

"She listens to who she chooses," Oghren said, "She's not as good as old Amell, but she's still more than powerful enough to blast you back into the Stone if she wants."

With that, the Warden-Constable turned and departed, whistling as he went. His son and his troops went with him, meaning for us to follow. The female looked at me apologetically.

"Have your hands full with that one, I see," I said to her.

"Tell me about it," she replied, "I'm Felsi. Welcome to Vigil's Keep."

"Are we?" I said, "Welcome, I mean?"

"Not really," Felsi admitted, crossing her arms, "Invading Ferelden will do that though." She looked at Louise and Mariette, both masked. She was only playing nice due to orders after all, as the rest of them were.

Couldn't fault her logic, military action is never looked on well by those who are the object of it, but I could hardly address the reasons for our actions before a roar came from ahead. "Are you coming or what!" Oghren shouted, "Don't have all day!"

Felsi brought us to the second gate with far more grace than her partner had shown.

"Right," Oghren said, "Bigshots only from this point."

"What about the Tainted?" I asked, "They need your damn cure!"

The dwarf puffed up his chest, bringing his axe into his hands. "If the Commander wants to give it to them, they'll be let through," he said, "They're not going another sodding step without her say-so!"

The inevitable sound of Louise's longsword sliding from its scabbard nicely demonstrated what we all thought of that, but someone managed to stop the action before it could be completed. I turned to find with surprise that it had been Mariette. I indicated with my hand for Louise to calm down, and patted the side of the firelance hanging from straps in front of me. The message being 'if I wanted to kill the dwarf, I would have shot him.'

Blondie got the idea.

"Okay, we'll comply," I said, "Take us to your leader."

Tam, Markham, Ciara, Armen, Louise, and Mariette came forward. The dwarf examined them for a moment, then nodded once.

"This way," Oghren said, "I swear, you're as bad as the pike-twirler, you lot. Need to work on your attitude. Need a strong drink. You do, I do, we all do. Big girl with the mask needs to let someone at her too..."

He continued in that way for several minutes as we walked, but that was as far as I paid attention to him. The inner section contained all sorts of buildings for the manufacture of military necessities, including a stone-constructed smithy and a tannery. These were all shut up, their purpose known only by the chimneys, the anvils outside, or the empty wooden racks for curing pelts.

The reinforced doors of the Keep opened, pushed outwards by still-more heavily armoured troops.

The inside was a fairly standard hall for an Arl's court. Large wooden columns held up the roof, the side supports hanging the Warden banners along with another one I did not recognise. A large fire pit stood in the centre of the space, circular and ringed with a knee-high wall to keep the embers from flying off and setting the place alight. A passage to one side led to a library, another to a stairway to what I would assume were residences, kitchens, mess halls, all the other things a noble lord and his vassals need. The place had been the family seat of the Howes, as I would learn.

At the back was a throne, atop three large steps, an even larger tapestry hanging behind it of a mage slaying a dragon with a stream of lightning: Amell killing the Archdemon. I almost stopped and applauded the masterful work of propaganda; everyone visiting would be reminded of what Ferelden and the world owed the Grey Wardens.

On the throne itself was a small woman of indeterminable age in mage's robes, a cowl over her head with the griffon motif sewn into it around the band. A staff with the same motif, in silverite no less, lay across her lap. Her hands rested on top of it, clasped together.

Oghren moved along towards her without hesitation, so we did too. I nodded to Markham to begin the plan we had for securing the Wardens' assistance, praying to God and Andraste that it would work. Because plan B was far less pleasant. Oghren joined his superior on the stairs, and waited. She had him well trained, I thought.

Markham paced ahead of us, taking the prime position as we came before the throne. The Hospitaller bowed at the waist, hand outstretched in the Orlesian fashion.

"Warden-Commander," he said in Nevarran-accented Common, "I apologise, I do not know your name?"

"Sidona Andras," the Warden-Commander said, "Acting Warden-Commander of Ferelden."

That she did not consider herself the real deal was worthy of comment, but the sight of Amell staring down from the tapestry above her gave me an idea. A wrong one, that she refused the full title out of respect for her predecessor, but still.

"Warden-Commander Andras," Markham continued, "I am Tobias Markham, Knight-Master of the Order of Hospitallers, charged with the protection and healing of the sick. We come seeking your aid against the darkspawn Taint."

Andras cocked an eyebrow at that, clearly having been caught off guard. "Do you now?" she said, "I thought you would have come to demand the release of my mages into your army's care, or come begging for supplies. Though I doubt you need anything of ours, you arrived faster than I or the Master of Horse expected."

The Master of Horse being Teagan, of course. We should have expected that he would send word to the Wardens too. But I let Markham continue.

"It is not our army, my lady," the Knight-Master replied, "The Hospitallers ride with the Army of the Free, but we are not under its command. And those suffering from the Taint have a great need of your help." Of course, Markham knew better than to defy the war council, but the Wardens didn't need to know that.

Andras grimaced, standing up and pulling down her cowl, revealing fuzzy dirty-blonde hair and the long ears of an elf. Which explained why it was hard to place her age. "Do not call me a lady," she said, "Very few do. I am only Acting Warden-Commander. The Landsmeet has not yet ratified my holding of the Arling of Amaranthine, despite my part in saving this fief from the darkspawn, and the King's personal intercession. They delay because of what I am. An Orlesian and an elf."

"You are the lady of this keep," Markham said sternly, "We do not care how they do things in Denerim, the Hospitallers recognise the reality of rank rather than the formality. As does the Free Army."

"If reality is your guide, then you know why I cannot help you," she said, before looking directly at me, "You are invaders. This appeal to my better nature to help the needy is wise, but I see through it. Would you have me believe that you will simply leave those who are Joined in my hands, and march off without them? That those I save would not be fighting the Fereldans? The King might well have my head if he discovered that I had saved those who fight to subjugate his country."

The Warden-Commander sat down again. "I know who you are, Marquis de la Fayette," she said, "Weisshaupt is interested in you. They have been looking for one of your kind for a very long time. They are not the only ones, I understand."

The Grey Wardens knew about the Outlander phenomenon, and it appeared they knew about the Tiberius dynasty too. I would have to ask Tiberius himself some pointed questions on the subject, if or when he arrived. Yet there was little danger of her being able to capture me, so it was easy to remain cool.

"We know plenty of your secrets too," I replied.

"The big Qunari girl with the beautiful bosom," Oghren interrupted, "She knows Sten. The Qunari lad who was with Amell and me, back in the day. Always thought he was a lost cause, but he made it big back home and he's running the show now. If she's to be believed."

"Is that so?" Andras asked Tam, "What did he tell you of the Wardens?" The Warden-Commander's fingers curled around her staff, in what was likely an involuntary, trained motion.

Tam's hand moved to her dagger, her mistrust of mages flaring up, but she spoke.

"Many things," she said, "The formula for the Joining potion, the cost of Grey Warden immunity to the Taint, how you kill an Archdemon, and how Daylen Amell survived killing the last one."

"What is the formula for the Joining potion?" Andras asked immediately.

"Three parts darkspawn blood, one part lyrium," Tam replied just as quickly, "And one drop of archdemon blood."

The Warden-Commannder nodded. "You pass," she said, "Though I am not sure how safe it is for that knowledge to exist outside the order."

"It's not like we're telling everyone either," I replied, "It's not of use to anyone. You control the only supply of archdemon blood. And in my experience, people get scared by blood magic. It hardly serves our cause to have people scared of the best defence against the darkspawn that exists." Although given the events at Adamant, perhaps they ought to have been scared before.

"If only you applied that wisdom to your other actions," Andras said, sitting back in her throne, "The mages in your army may be part of a Circle, but it is a radical experiment that has moved the world closer to war. One where mages are outnumbered a hundred, no, a thousand to one."

"Last I checked, Warden-Commander," said Markham, "No Grey Warden has ever succumbed to demons in the entire history of your Order, excepting during the Fourth Blight, where they became abominations in the last moments of their lives in an attempt to bring down as many darkspawn as possible. If you can walk the world freely, why must we be caged?"

"The Taint within us helps prevent possession," Andras said, "The weak-willed die with certainty during the Joining. The same cannot be said of you, Knight-Master. The Harrowing is inadequate to the task."

"The Harrowing is unnecessary torture," Armen said loudly, "Apprentices are not told they are to fight demons, and cannot prepare accordingly. It is insanity and cruelty."

"We are not here to discuss Circle politics," Markham scolded, "Warden-Commander, we can promise that those you save will not fight in Ferelden, and we have other things to offer too."

Armen backed down, Ciara taking his hand to comfort him as he shook his head in anger.

"Such a promise would have to be made in writing," Andras said, "And it would not be enough alone."

"What are your terms?" Markham asked.

"Halt your march on the capital," Andras said, "Ideally, get out of Ferelden entirely." And if we had on her word, her position as Commander and Arl would have been secured in no time. Very smart.

Markham looked back at me with wide eyes. He saw the opportunity, and wanted to know if we should tell her that it was our entire plan to get out of Ferelden.

I weighed the situation. We now controlled the road to Amaranthine, and whatever forces the banns to the north could rally would be vastly inferior. There was nothing the Fereldans could do to stop us reaching it, even if they did find out that was our true objective. Once we reached it, I was confident we could defend it for a month until Tiberius' arrived to evacuate the city. That was that.

"Warden-Commander, we never were marching on the capital," I said, "We were marching on Amaranthine."

Sidona Andras was silent for several moments. "I had considered that possibility," she said, "As a vassal of the King of Ferelden, I released the soldiers of the Arling and my Ferelden-born human Wardens to military service so that you could not do so. But it appears you were too quick for Alistair."

The news that we would be fighting Wardens if the Crown brought their army forward in time was not welcome, but it would hardly have been of any benefit to throw that in Andras' face.

"More important is why we're going to Amaranthine," I said, "It is the major port of this country, better sheltered than Denerim and less vulnerable to pirates."

"Good strategic reasoning," Andras replied, "But I still must insist you don't take it either."

"Oh, we'll take it," I said, "You can't stop us. But we'll only be there a month."

"A month?" said Andras, "What happens then?"

"A fleet of the Tevinter Navy and merchant vessels will arrive," I replied, "And we will leave Ferelden's soil."

The Warden-Commander grinned widely. She smelled the opportunity too now. "You require access to a city that I control," she said, "So you can leave the country. I don't suppose you would pretend that it was my idea?"

"We were exiled from Orlais," I said, "We were not exiled specifically to Ferelden."

"I'll take that as a yes," Andras said, "But still, it is not enough."

"What else could you possibly want?" Markham asked, "If I understand what you are proposing correctly, your standing with the Fereldan court will rise significantly if you can end the current war. That is payment enough for what we are asking."

"What you are asking is that I disregard the laws of my Order," Andras said icily, "You want to take your people after they have been joined, that is unacceptable without a huge consideration for the Order. I am stalemated at court, not beaten, the Order can exist in Ferelden without me as well. It cannot continue if its most basic rule is broken; that those who are Joined stay with the Order."

"We plan to build a new city in the Free Marches," Tam said, "If I and the others swear allegiance to the Order, we can form a new section there."

Andras made an appreciative noise. "That is very clever," she said, "Though I cannot formally agree to it, only the First Warden could make that kind of a deal, I could perhaps release your people and send a notice to Weisshaupt informing them of it. You already know the secrets that we fear would get out in similar cases."

"But what I require from you is a treaty, obliging your assistance in the event of a Blight. The assistance of your new city. Specifically, access to your blackpowder and the weapons to use it."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. Everyone wanted the damn weapons, didn't they?

"I am delegated the task to sign treaties with whomever I can," Andras added, "That is the price of my cooperation, both in letting you into Amaranthine unopposed, and curing your people without forcing them to remain here. Or trying to. As I said, I am aware of who you are. I know you could kill everyone in this keep if you wanted to. I would prefer my Wardens to live, so they can die fighting more worthy foes." Namely the darkspawn.

Louise marched forwards to me. "Marquis, I would like to remind you that you do not need to make any deal," she said, "I have counted less than a hundred warriors so far. We can seize this place and search it for the necessary materials to carry out the ritual ourselves."

"But that would be pure stupidity," Mariette interjected, "The Warden-Commander has just offered everything we need at no cost in blood. If we play this correctly, she may even be able to convince the Fereldans that we are leaving, that no further military action is required."

"Except there is a cost," Louise countered, "Giving our weapons away to the Grey Wardens at a moment's notice? That knowledge may be sold or stolen from the Wardens later, and used against us. And what happens if the First Warden demands our people return to Ferelden."

"They are not asking for the weapons now," Mariette said, "Only in the event of a Blight. The Fourth Blight happened centuries ago, and the Fifth only occurred a decade ago. It is likely we will all be dead by the time the Wardens can exercise such a treaty. And if the First Warden attempts to force us to do anything _after_ we have what we want, we can use force in return, when it would be more appropriate."

"Better hurry up, Sam," Ciara said, eyeing the throne, "I don't think the Wardens are patient people." Of course they aren't, they're dying of the Taint and their time is short.

The bickering between the two de Villars cousins went on, the elder arguing the military solution, the former the subtle solution, Markham telling them both to shut up but failing. Neither were brought up to be told to shut up by anyone except a direct superior.

"Enough!" Tam shouted, her voice booming throughout the chamber.

That succeeded in shutting mouths at last, to my great relief. Louise and Mariette backed off, deferring to 'The Mistress', their well-honed political skills telling them that defying her would be bad for their careers, and her daggers telling them it could be bad for their health. Easy to tell that sort of thing is going through the mind of a noble when they half-bow when retreating from you. Nobles do deference quite well, when the mood takes them.

"Sam, take the deal," Tam said, as conclusively as it was possible to get.

"Yes, ma'am," I replied. It was her life we were talking about, after all. If she didn't want to spill blood to save it, how could I possibly argue otherwise? With Fereldan knights roaming the roads, it wasn't a great idea to have another fight in the Vigil too. We didn't know how far or close the King was.

"Do we have an accord, Marquis?" Andras asked.

"We do," I replied.

"Excellent," she said, "Oghren, get the Joining cup, the vials and the lyrium. Bring them to me, and then bring those who are to be Joined here."

The dwarf gave a theatrical, sarcastic bow, mimicking Markham's own from before. Andras gave a throaty chuckle at his display. Markham himself eyed the dwarf, displaying his displeasure at being mocked, but it bothered the dwarf not one bit. The two Wardens got on like a house on fire, I thought. No wonder they sent her to Ferelden, I doubt Orlais appreciated that sense of humour. Oghren marched out of the room via the library chamber, whistling again.

"He was a companion of the Hero of Ferelden?" I asked, once he was gone.

"So they tell me," Andras replied, "And that he was even more drunk back then than he is today. But he is one of the most capable warriors the Order has, perhaps ever had."

"Then two miracles have occurred today," I said, "Hopefully, our luck doesn't run out."

* * *

 _AUTHOR'S NOTE: It seems the alerts for the last chapter did not go out, which is highly annoying, but it has fixed itself since._

 _We're moving through Ferelden quickly now._

 _It appears this arc is as controversial as I thought it would be. Glad to see the desired effect._

 _ **Okiro:** Well, worry not, the updates will be coming more quickly from now on._

 _There was indeed a tonal shift, reflecting the bad situation that the Free Army has found itself in._

 _The characters can't know what was happening in the rest of Thedas, they've been out in the wilderness for the entire time, out of contact with the information network that Leha has or any other real source of news that they can access. That will be changing very soon. Ferelden, due to the changes made by Amell and Alistair, is obviously the least affected by the shitstorm Sam has unleashed, but you can already see its effects in the Tower, with regard to the Templars and the implications of harsh treatment towards Libertarians in particular._

 _Julie is only a Joan of Arc figure to the Eastern Dales at the very most. Probably more accurate to narrow it down to the Free Army and the people of Hearth. Whom are also fanatics. Of course they're going to singing praises of her. That didn't come out of the blue either. I very specifically laid out why the Hearthlands were so ripe for revolution, and for a revolutionary leader. They had gone through a war between the barons two years before Sam's arrival, in which Julie's own step-father had died. That war had largely been the result of the effects of the Fifth Blight, which messed with farming and set darkspawn raiding on the land. They were heavily taxed by chevaliers that had utter contempt for their lives and livelihoods. Julie stepped into that environment with a message of freedom in one hand, and a firelance that allowed a peasant to kill a chevalier with ease in the other. I specifically modelled the revolt she caused on the peasants' revolts of England, where such figures led more often than not, and even nobles got on board on occasion._

 _What do you think the Fereldans think of Julie?_

 _Did she make mistakes? Sure. But remember that you're viewing it with both the benefit of hindsight, as written down by Sam decades later, and with the benefit of being objectively removed from the situation. I think I've made it perfectly clear that Sam, and Julie, accept their actions as wrong but submit they did not see alternative actions at the time or believe they could not have acted any other way in the circumstances. While readers can submit alternatives that would have been better, that doesn't mean that the characters themselves could have seen or accepted them._

 _I didn't want to write about existing characters as my main protagonists. I already do that in Battlefield 2183, and I prefer writing OCs. That you don't like it isn't something I can fix, you know?_

 _Still, thank you for the in-depth reviews, I appreciate them more than you can possibly know. I enjoy watching readers unpick the threads. I think it makes me a better writer ultimately._

 _ **Katkiller-V:** I'm glad to see the alerts are back up so I can be informed of your releases! _

_This chapter largely sets up something later. I hope the Wardens' interaction didn't disappoint. I think people were rooting for a refusal of aid, which I just don't view as being particularly realistic. Neither would I have thought of the Wardens complying without a high cost as being realistic. Or that they would do nothing to aid Alistair. Hence what happened._

 _I'm glad someone understands how much of a zealot/fanatic Julie is! It's a fairly large theme of the story._

 _ **Thepkrmgc:** Dagna has indeed! I'm surprised you're the only one to comment on it. Gregoir, the moderate? I would call him pretty staunchly conservative, he just appears moderate next to a certain other Knight-Commander's fanaticism._

 _ **Guest:** Muchos gracias, lad._

 _ **Makurayami:** The werewolves won't be showing up, and what happened to them won't be addressed in the story, so I'll just do so here. _

_Amell defied the Dalish Keeper and reconciled the elves and the werewolves, curing them, simply because he was pissed off at the attempted manipulation. He didn't like doing other people's dirty work against his will. The werewolf survivors are still in the Southron Hills bordering the forest._

 _I would have liked to have the Free Army fight the werewolves, but it clashed with too many elements of the canon I wanted to establish for Amell, so it didn't happen._

 _ **Infieri:** I like Asala too. You will see more of her._

 _ **ErzherzogKarl:** Deary me, that is a long review. _

_Glad you like Mariette's increased involvement. It occurs to me we haven't really seen more of the stereotypical Orlesian noble, because it would be hard to integrate one. A relative of Louise was the solution to that._

 _I guess Julie is both a zealot and a fanatic by those definitions, to varying extents._

 _On the points you made about Julie being a Sue:_

 _\- She did not make a dictionary, she deciphered the Latin alphabet. With Sam's help. Common is the same language as English, Orlesian is French, they even use more or less the same spellings, they just use dwarven runes instead of Latin letters. What Julie did was start using the Latin alphabet, which was no great feat of genius, and she did so because Latin letters are more simply and easier to print._

 _\- She could read and understand 'foreign' books with 'foreign' words because she had Sam to question on matters that she didn't quite understand. Sam is himself a college graduate, courtesy of the US Army._

 _\- She isn't truly capable of transforming memetic knowledge into kinetic actions. I presume you made that assumption because she became proficient with the handcannon and firelance. She did that by remembering the bullet's path when she lined up the sights, and simply repeats the action for the same result. She couldn't do the same with a bow and arrow, or with a sword, because that requires far more physical exertion. Perhaps she could with a crossbow, because that's also a point and shoot weapon. She is also not on Sam's level._

 _\- An intellect on the scale of Einstein? With inventiveness like Da Vinci? I've made the latter comparison through Sam myself, but he has the benefit of hindsight. Julie has created very few things, and very few things on her own. Blackpowder was mostly Armen's doing, Julie is not an alchemist whereas Armen is as close to an omnidisciplinary scientist as you get, trained in many arts from a young age. Firelances were a collaborative effort between Armen, herself, and a third person who hasn't been introduced yet. They're not particularly complicated, they're US Civil War era rifled muskets with Revolutionary War era firing mechanisms, and she had the assistance of both Earth knowledge and magical manufacturing. The rockets she made are of the same century, we are not talking about guided missiles or even WW2 era Katyushas (although she was inspired by the latter). I deliberately ruled out creating more complex weapons, or other things like steam engines, until much more time had passed. I'm still not sure the timeframe I have for the story will ever let me include that sort of thing with one particular exception._

 _\- The firearms she makes are not advanced. They're as advanced as it was possible for her to make with materials, capabilities and people she had on hand, but they're only one or two steps ahead of what the Qunari could make if they bothered their ass._

 _\- She did not make a kneejerk declaration of war against a whole empire, she declared a civil war before the Empire broke out in one and came to crush everything she had worked for and kill everyone she had loved. And if the military victories had continued, the empire's own strength could have been turned against it. That's what revolution does._

 _\- Peasants care about themselves in Orlais and play the Game how they can, regardless of what the nobles think, and nobles only caring about nobles is precisely why Julie was not targeted by the assassins. As far as the enemy was concerned, Sam was the real threat, Julie was a whore who had latched onto him._

 _\- Surviving an assassination attempt is not evidence of Sue-dom in itself._

 _On the Grand-Clerics:_

 _Orlais has the largest population by far, it has the seat of the Chantry, it has the most Grand Clerics, and those in Orlais naturally play the Game far better than those outside it. Other countries have multiple Grand-Clerics, Nevarra has a large number, the Free Marches have plenty but they're divided. Ferelden and Rivain are less populated and more remote, and hence sit at the bottom of the hierarchy. Hierarchy benefits any potential Divine more than equality ever would. She can offer better seats of power to those that vote for her, and threaten to relegate those who refuse to lower posts without outright ruin. Not sure why those who will never be Divine would want equality either, except those that are more or less powerless like the Fereldan or Rivaini clerics. It's a competitive political arena like any other, and it's not a republican one by any means. Equality wouldn't serve anyone. Winning by promising equality would be meaningless._

 _The situation with the Chantry is a plot point for later. Right now, the Army is out in the wilderness and Ferelden is weeks away from Val Royeaux even by ship. However, I must disagree that the Hearth Circle shows why mages are to be feared. They are not the inciting element of the troubles, not by a long shot, and no magical crimes have occurred within the Free Army (yet)._

 _The Circle:_

 _\- Numbers of mages: Generally, I view there to be a game-story separation on this issue, as well as a canon clash. The population of Ferelden (excluding Avvars, Chasind etc) is a million, Orlais has twenty million, in 9:31. We can assume those numbers are more or less the same in 9:39. Being conservative, maybe 0.1% of the population are mages. That means there are a thousand mages in Ferelden, twenty thousand in Orlais. But that's very conservative. Dialogue with Vivienne suggests it's higher, she says it's a "hundred to one". Something I alluded to in this chapter, I might add. So the range is more like 0.5 to 1%. That's five thousand to ten thousand mages in Ferelden alone. I heavily prefer the former figure._

 _We can talk about how many are killed, how many hide their talents, how many flee to the Wilds or abroad, but we're still talking about a lot of mages._

 _\- Libertarians: Yeah, there's Uldred, but there's also Amell. Who saved Ferelden. Who demanded and received greater rights for mages. Whose demands did not lead to disaster, creating a new wave of freedom for mages in the country. The Libertarian arguments would not only be heard, they'd be in full swing by 9:39. That's largely portrayed in canon as-is. The Aequitarians were already beginning to waver by then, Wynne's power largely keeping things in state. Kirkwall certainly didn't help their argument, and it was far more recent and far more decisive than Uldred's mess._

 _\- Kinloch Hold was the most liberal of Circles after the Blight. Then came Kirkwall. Which hardened Templar opinion, which redistributed Templars from there to all the other Circles, which caused the mages to move forwards and cause yet more dehumanisation of their kind in a vicious circle, mind the pun. I wanted to portray that space of time between Kirkwall and the open declaration of war by Fiona and the last vote, where things were getting worse for mages, where Kirkwall's abuses were being spread to other Circles by Templars that used to be stationed there. Even in Ferelden._

 _\- There are already children moving with the Free Army, and considering both Templars and Mages consider war to be inevitable, taking them along is hardly any great moral conundrum compared with leaving them to be caught in the crossfire when that shitstorm hits. The Free Army isn't putting the children in any danger by taking them along either, they're not going to be on the front lines and the Fereldans aren't going to be slaughtering civilians under Alistair's watch._

 _The Wardens:_

 _\- Amaranthine and its status: The Grey Wardens remain independent, but rule the arling in the Crown's name. It's an ambiguous situation to say the least, but one repeated elsewhere on Thedas. Orlais comes to mind. The Wardens supposedly have estates there to support them, granted by the Imperial Throne. You're quite right that helping the invaders would be high treason, except if that help is in line with either the Crown's interest or the Grey Wardens' code. Getting Sam and his army out of Ferelden ASAP, and making sure Alistair signs off on that plan, is not high treason. Joining the Tainted soldiers and Tam to cure them of the Taint is not high treason, it's what the Grey Wardens do generally._

 _You'll have to wait and see how that all goes, mind. Amaranthine was indeed the centre of the Orlesian occupation. They ruled from there. Obviously, things are not forgiven either, or else Sam and Julie wouldn't have thought they had to fight their way across the country in the first place._

 _\- The Tropes: The correct trope you're looking for is Chekov's Armoury._

 _Nobody Dies in itself is not necessarily a bad thing. Killing off characters for shock value isn't always worth it. And with autobiographical stories like this, it is far more cliché._

 _Karma Houdini isn't applicable at all. Vivienne is not an example of it. Sam didn't do "nothing" to her, he took her as a prisoner of war, which is what he was trained to do to people who want to kill him but are helpless and can be kept that way. This is in sharp contrast to the Chantry fanatics in Hearth during the riots, who he couldn't keep that way and almost certainly would have continued to try harming those he loved. While one might seem needlessly merciful and another needlessly bloodthirsty, in the context of who Sam is and has always been portrayed to be, they make perfect sense. There are times where Sam is bloodthirsty, but they are always moments where he loses control for one reason or another, as all humans occasionally do._

 _\- Splitting the army: The logistics of this is dead easy when there's a big fuckoff highway to follow._

 _The part of the Army that left on foot was under the command of Soprano, by far the most fanatical Libertarian of the military staff, and also the direct commander of the most formidable unit in the entire army: the Rangers. You think for a second she'd let the chevaliers or Avvars run riot? That they wouldn't be facing the firelancers themselves if they did? Remember that the chevaliers have seen those weapons in action themselves._

 _Fisher being able to navigate Lake Calenhad is not a surprise. He's a sailor, and he's familiar with the waters, being from Jader, which is not a great distance from the north of the lake by any means._

 _As for his people, recall that he was introduced long before the Fereldan arc, and when they arrived, they were not coming as some naval recruits to boost the Revolution, but as refugees fleeing from Jader. They are not some deus ex machina, they are not 'conveniently there at the right moment'. They were a burden long before they were an asset. That they are an asset now is not bad plotting. Will they remain an asset? Who knows._

 _Julie's Selfishness: She follows her own instincts as a leader, that's not evidence of selfishness. Nor does she follow them exclusively, she has followed Sam's advice more often than not. It's just the big one of laying low instead of organising revolution she didn't really follow, and that wasn't really Sam's decision alone to make. He was the selfish one there as much as she was._

 _The chevaliers' initiation rite is not public knowledge. De Chevin has to explain it in the Masked Empire book, and to someone who ought to be knowledgeable about such things. The requirement to kill an elf is a secret. Julie doesn't know about it, the elves in the Army don't know about it, and I doubt the chevaliers themselves will be advertising it. I've been thinking about making that a plot point for the Inquisition arc, specifically at the Winter Palace, but we'll see._

 _As for what they're doing in Ferelden, Julie hasn't come close to ordering what Orlais did the last time. She's stormed one town, because she had to, and she tried to negotiate beforehand. The Free Army has not burned farms and killed civilians indiscriminately. You can talk about the lack of justice in fighting a war against the country, sure, but it is being conducted with utmost adherence to discipline and the ideals we hold here on Earth. That doesn't mean the Fereldans are going to be forgiving in the slightest, but Julie can't be compared to the Mad King, it's ridiculous._

 _And of course Sam and Julie don't see themselves as monsters either. You speak about Orlais' prejudices, Ferelden's are just as strong the other way. They're also responsible for the safety, liberty and lives of everyone in that Army. Entrusting it to the prejudices of the Landsmeet and the freeholders, as you so helpfully pointed out, would be utter madness._

 _They are tyrants killing innocents from the perspective of the Fereldans. They are patriots doing what is necessary and no further from the perspective of themselves. They are saviours to those they are saving, making the best of a bad situation. Objectively, they are deep in very ambiguous moral territory._

 _All that said, you've struck the nail on the head for the tone I'm going for. This is indeed the Red Wedding Arc._


	45. Chapter 45: Battle of the Hafter

**Chapter Forty-Five: Battle of the Hafter**

If Honnleath is the scene of a battle that will be talked about for a lifetime or two, the combat on the left bank of the Hafter in November of 9:39 may well be spoken about for centuries.

For military men, it is the first clash of modern arms and magic in the history of Thedas. Sahrnia was notable as the battle that ended the era of sword and bow. This was to be the battle that confirmed the change, destroying the possibility of magic fully counteracting the new armaments that my arrival brought. This is not the popular reading of the event, of course. To the mind of the people, the romanticised story about knight-enchanters and mounted chevaliers fighting against brave but hopelessly outgunned freeholder volunteers is preferred, both in Ferelden and in our own country. Even among veterans.

Politically, it was significant too for more than just Ferelden. Albeit that this was unknown to anyone present. There was one person at least who saw the implications as soon as she heard of what had happened: The Divine.

Needless to say, things spiralled out of control quickly afterwards. Not that we could have noticed. We had our own problems. Until we got to Amaranthine, we were essentially in the dark about happenings elsewhere. We had no idea how the Orlesian Civil War was playing out, what the mages and templars were doing, how far the consequences of our previous actions had already gone.

The recreation of the Inquisition was almost inevitable already. With our actions, it became a certainty.

* * *

The Tainted were led into the main hall of Vigil's Keep, assembling around the firepit for warmth. I insisted that they all be Joined at the same time, several other Wardens prepared the huge amount of cups and liquid required for the process. The Warden-Commander agreed, as all of them had no choice but to be Joined or die the slow death.

She and I went to an office above the library to put our agreement in writing, while the preparations continued. The room was as spartan as you'd expect from someone uninterested in ornamentation for its own sake, the great hall of the keep being to impress visitors and hold receptions, not for her personal enjoyment.

The talk was all business, and it all went on paper twice. Once in the Common tongue, written in dwarven script, for the Wardens' records. Once in Orlesian, in Latin script, so that we had the Wardens' seal on a deal that clearly stated our intention to leave Ferelden.

The Warden-Commander would allow us access to Amaranthine, allow those that lived through the process of becoming Wardens to come with us, that those that did would become a new section of the Order pending approval from Weisshaupt, and the Order would intercede to bring the idea for the withdrawal of the Free Army from Fereldan soil to Alistair and Anora.

In return, we would provide the Grey Wardens with firelances in peacetime, and heavier things in the event of Blights. At a reasonable markup. There was no way I intended to listen to Leha chew my ear off about being charitable for no good reason. If the Wardens wanted blackpowder weapons, we'd do the manufacturing and they could buy them from us. The Fereldan Order could buy the first few hundred at-cost. From what I heard, they could damn well afford it.

I signed both pieces of paper first, while Andras began heating and mixing the grey sealing wax. I remember grumbling in my head about feather quills, missing my ballpoint pen as usual. Scratching my name on the documents was a pain in the ass, but I completed it and offered Andras the quill. She refused to take it, looking at my hand and back at me.

"One more thing," she said.

Annoyed, I pushed off from the table and crossed my arms. "We've already drawn up the documents," I said, "I'm not conceding anything else."

"It's nothing that needs to be put in writing," Andras replied, stirring the wax in a little pouring bowl, "You said your ships are going to come with the Tevinter Navy?"

Aha, I thought, it's _that_ topic. "Yes," I said, "And I'm thinking you know something about that?"

I got a single nod.

"There's a story about the Ferelden Wardens," she said, pouring the wax onto the Orlesian document. She pressed her ring onto the pool, leaving a griffon-shaped imprint on it.

"Once upon a time, magisters came to Sophia Dryden, the last Warden-Commander before the Wardens were expelled from Ferelden. They claimed claiming they needed to go to the Deep Roads to look for something. They wouldn't tell the Wardens what it was, but they offered gold and magical knowledge. The Grey Wardens of Tevinter and Ferelden were both under significant pressure at the time, the Vinters thanks to the Magisterium reducing their tithes to almost nothing, and the Fereldans due to the madness of King Arland Theirin."

"I'm sure you like reminding the current king he's related to a madman," I said, "Get to the point."

"It didn't take Dryden long to realise the Tevinters were looking for a person in the Deep Roads," Andras continued, ignoring my comment, "They knew specifically where to look too. But they found nothing at the site but blood. Darkspawn, mostly, but not entirely. Whoever they were looking for was long gone, and the darkspawn returned in force, making a further search impossible."

The bodies we found in the Upper Galleries suddenly made more sense. I could only imagine what would have happened if Tiberius' ancestors had caught up to them before they became corpses.

"Let me guess," I said, "They brought your fellow Wardens to somewhere beneath the Frostbacks. Almost half way between Orzammar and Valammar."

Andras' mouth dropped open. "How did you know that?" she said.

"We found who they were looking for on the march here," I replied, "Or, the bodies at least."

"Outlanders," Andras scoffed, "People from other worlds. Always humans with a particularly extraordinary set of capabilities, or so I'm told." She sighed loudly, shaking her head.

"Just one other world," I replied, "You don't seem all that impressed."

"I'm an elf," she said, "There's something perverse to me about a world where only humans exist. Like a glimpse of a future where my nightmares are reality."

I paused. I hadn't thought of it that way, and no one had ever spoken to me in a manner suggestive of the racial differences between our worlds mattering. Except Briala's implications, but she was a visionary in her own way. "There never were elves on Earth," I said, "I... know enough about the history of this place to know that isn't a great comfort, but ..."

"Then you understand why I'm helping you," Andras said, pouring the wax for the second seal and planting the ring on it, "As Sidona Andras, not just Acting Warden-Commander."

"You strike a hard deal for someone who believes in what we're doing," I said, "If the Fereldans heard that, it might be dangerous too. You're an Orlesian."

Andras hummed a tune while she let the wax set. "If it brings about a world where an elf mage doesn't have to commit her life to a death cult to avoid being locked up," Andras replied, "It is worth the risk. Just as my deal is worth it to you, both right now and in the centuries to come. Darkspawn don't care one bit for banners and ideas."

She pulled her copy of the agreement up into her hands, looking it over. "Besides, with this, I'll be an Arlessa," she smiled, "And finally step out of some of Amell's very long shadow. Even if they refuse and you lose, I'll be able to say I tried to defend Ferelden despite having no real obligation personally to do so."

I snorted. While I could see the Fereldans refusing the offer, depending on who was present at their war council, I couldn't see them presenting a real threat. Never mind the technological advantages, I held the high ground.

"Lose?" I said, "If Alistair plays hard to get, he'll be the one regretting it." I held my hand out for her to shake. She looked at me, pleading silently not to let that eventuality come to pass. But she did shake my hand, giving it a firm once over.

"Let's go save your soldiers," Andras said, plucking her staff off its place across the table.

* * *

The hundred soldiers or so stood off around the fire pit, staring at the flames, as the Joining cups were handed to them by Warden-Constable Oghren. Other Wardens were arranging bedding and some tarps, so that those that lived through what was about to happen and those that would not would have some comfort. The only other people present were those that had entered with me, our honour guard still refused entry, but they were forced to stand away near the throne.

Armen, Louise and Mariette looked on with a sense of wide-eyed awe, that they were seeing something that very few outside the Order had. Markham's gaze scanned the room, taking in every detail. Ciara on the other hand was chewing her thumbnail. They were all dealing with it in their own way.

Andras cut through the ring of people and into the middle of the space between them and the fire, overseeing the process and giving what had to be words of encouragement to each of the men and women taking a cup. They appreciated it, thanking her for the opportunity to live. She just told them to thank me instead. A good person at heart, and I admired her for it.

Leaving that element to the professionals and with nothing left to do but wait, I circled around to Tam at the far side. I found her in good spirits, outwardly at least, carefully watching those taking the cups. But my stomach churned with worry.

"You took the antibiotics, right?" I whispered.

Tam turned around. "I did," she replied, "I just wish we had enough for everyone."

"So do I," I said, not feeling any better about that, "We're not even sure it'll help, so that's something. Not losing you though, so to hell with it."

"What will happen, we cannot control," Tam said, "I am resigned to my fate. If I die, I will do so knowing I acted according to my conscience. If I live... I may not be able to have the family I've wanted for years..."

Another stomach drop. "Enough of that talk," I growled, "You'll be fine." Tam smiled back at me, knowing my insistence could do nothing about it, and gave me a touch on the cheek with the side of her hand.

Andras and Oghren went around clockwise, coming towards where we were standing. I felt itches everywhere, intensifying as they moved closer. I almost didn't hear the surprised cough from Oghren as he met someone he knew directly to Tam's right, where I couldn't see.

"Dagna?!" he asked, "What are you doing? You got Tainted too? I thought you were mucking about with the Circle or something."

I shifted on my feet to look past Tam, even as she turned to see what was going on herself. Oghren was standing in front of a small-even-for-her-race female dwarf. The same brown haired one from Kinloch Hold, no less.

"I needed to get out of there," Dagna said, "Things were getting... well, bad in the Tower. Besides, there's a man immune to all magical aberration standing right there!" She pointed at me.

"How could I possibly turn up the chance to study him?" she added.

"Now hold on a minute," I said, "How did you even get in here?"

"Eh, I walked through the front door?" Dagna chirped, like I was being stupid or something.

"And no one stopped you?" Andras asked.

"Nope," said Dagna happily, popping the 'p'.

"Dagna, the Wardens are no place for you," Oghren said, looming over her, "And that madman's army definitely isn't. I need a drink just thinking about what might happen to you. Cute girl like you shouldn't be stuck.."

The smaller dwarf crossed her arms in defiance, shutting Oghren up. "I can take care of myself," she said with confidence, "Mostly."

Andras cleared her throat loudly, tapping her staff on the ground while she did. "Miss Dagna, was it?" she said, "Are you joining the Grey Wardens?"

"No, but..." Dagna began.

"Then wait over there with the others," Andras insisted, stepping aside and holding out her arm towards the throne, "And be glad I am letting you stay at all, on account of you knowing the Warden-Constable."

Dagna ran off as quickly as her legs could carry her, smirks following her from the sick soldiers. I shook my head, consoled at least that she had provided some solace to them. "Sorry about that," I said, "I didn't realise we had a stowaway. I'll have to talk to some of the mages we picked up at the Circle."

"No harm done," Andras replied, before looking to Tam, "You're the last." Another Warden brought out a silver chalice, with griffons in relief on the side of it, the black liquid contents glowing a deep red ever so slightly, sloshing as it was held out.

Tam gave a single nod, and accepted it.

The other Wardens withdrew, leaving just Oghren and Andras in the middle of us all. Oghren grabbed hold of the neck of his armour with one hand and grabbed a skin off his belt with his other, waiting for the Warden-Commander to speak. She climbed up onto the firepit's surrounding wall, and began walking along it, her shadow projected on the ceiling, walls and the tapestry.

"Join us, brothers and sisters!" Andras declared proudly, staff held aloft, "Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant! Join us in the duty that cannot be forsworn."

Andras paused, looking over at Tam and I. "And if you should perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten," she continued more softly, "And that one day, we shall join you."

"Drink up, boys and girls!" Oghren laughed, preferring the action to the words. He pulled open his skin and drank deeply, the smell of ale floating around me. At least until everyone else, Tam included, drank from their own cups.

No hesitation, no delay; they knew that this was their last chance to live past the month's end.

They all finished at more or less the same time, many sticking out their tongues and rasping at the taste of the ritual's potion. Slowly, metal and wood cups began to fall, clattering onto the stone floor with hollow thuds and ringing. Deep, pained coughing erupted from dozens of throats at once.

I barely had enough time to notice the man falling to his knees, blood coming from his mouth, before Tam fell backwards onto me.

I caught her before she bounced off of me, just in time. I set her down on the ground, onto some of the hay-filled bedding laid out for that purpose, barely able to think. I quickly grabbed her wrist, placing my fingers over it, searching for a pulse. Sickness rose up when I didn't immediately find it, fear infecting me like a disease. How could I possibly face Julie with this news? How could we go on without Tam?

I clutched her tight, praying that she wasn't dead. The Maker answered. She exhaled, just enough for me to feel it. My heart thumping as hard as it ever did, I let her down again onto the ground and then collapsed onto my back, exhausted and panting.

"Son of a bitch," I said to the ceiling, closing my eyes.

"That's no way to talk to someone that's helping you," came a gruff, mocking voice from above.

"Hush and help me up," I said, struggling to breath, "I need to know how many of the others lived."

A thick, sweaty hand grabbed my own, and together, Oghren and I managed to get me standing again. I looked to the man I had seen fall. He was definitely dead, if the pool of blood around his body was any evidence. I had almost fallen into it without noticing, in fact.

Private Théo Renard of the Grenadiers, for the record.

The first name on the Grey Warden Memorial at Place de la Victoire. Not the last Renard on the memorials there either.

Not many names from the Vigil's Joining there though.

I looked between the private and Tam, thinking over how easily it could have been the other way around. What a terrible risk to have to take, and what a terrible way to die.

The Wardens were busy separating out those who lived and died. While the way my people had perished was horrendous; they all had blood coming out of their mouths, the numbers were low enough for relief. Everyone else looked like they were soundly asleep

I let the Wardens do their work, until Armen approached me.

"Something's up," he said quietly, "Only one in four was taken. That's too low."

"You think it has something to do with me?" I asked, "I'm not sure I should care as long as more live."

"That's the spirit," Oghren interrupted, "We Wardens of Ferelden brew a very special Joining potion. Hard hitting stuff, tastes even worse than usual, but it works."

"We'll have to throw the old man a party after this," Andras said from behind me, "But they don't need to know too much about that, Warden-Constable. I think only the Qunari knows."

"If you say so, Commander," Oghren replied, before taking another swill from his skin.

I barely registered the remarks, distracted too much by my people and their condition. Only about a quarter died, something I'm told only Ferelden's Wardens achieve. For reasons unknown to most.

But the tale of Soldier's Peak isn't part of this story. Come to think of it, it may be related to the tale she told of the Tiberian magisters coming to Ferelden... I'll have to explore that possibility. If the Wardens exchanged more words on the subject, I did not notice.

Particularly as another Grey Warden came storming in through the main doors, pushing one of them open with the full weight of his body. Which wasn't much because he was a short elf. He came in out of the evening darkness with a message in-hand. He paused at the sight of bodies, flustered even before he saw them, but Andras moving up to me caught his attention. He came straight to me and put a paper in my hands.

I read it, and suddenly I was glad that Tam was knocked out. I handed the piece of paper to Andras to read, waving Armen, Mariette and Louise closer to me. They came up just as the Warden-Commander began to translate aloud in Common.

"From Isewen to the Marquis,

Message reads: _Fereldan Royal Army sighted less than a day's march away. Exact number unknown, reconnaissance group discovered before counting of tents and fires could allow estimate. Forward column heavily outnumbered. Request your return to the Army at earliest convenience._ "

At earliest convenience is subordinate talk for 'Hurry the hell up!'

"That was quick," I said, "Someone or something lit a fire under Alistair's ass."

"All the better," Louise said, "The faster they move, the more tired they will be trying to storm those hills."

"You'd think the King would be aware of something like that," Mariette warned, "It makes little military sense.

"More likely it was the Queen who urged speed," Andras frowned, "She is no player of the Game, but she is the closest thing Ferelden has. If anything can sink our little scheme, it is her insistence on playing the safe bet for keeping the realm unified. Attacking your army before it can make it to Denerim, even if it was only a delaying attack, would make for very good politics. Enough to rally far more volunteers to the banner."

That was in keeping with what little I knew about Anora. She very much preferred to work from the shadows, as long as no one challenged her authority. And as she was very fond of Alistair, something that was reciprocated, the two monarchs were as authoritative as any since Calenhad himself.

"You're going to have to be very convincing," I said to Andras, "Because tomorrow, you're going to bring the idea of us leaving by sea to the King when his army arrives."

The Warden-Commander nodded, unperturbed by the possibility of failure. I hoped that was due to her having a strong relationship with the former Warden on the throne, chewing the inside of my cheek as I thought for the first time about how exactly I intended to handle failure if it came.

* * *

Tam and the others would sleep though the next two days, and I'm glad they did. It was our turn to take a terrible risk.

There is little point in discussing the arguments over battle planning detail, the plan went to complete shit, but it was more or less the same thing I had laid out upon our arrival. A line dug in across the Imperial Highway and around the top of two hills, with the Hafter bridge to the southeast and the Vigil to the rear. The only significant difference between when we arrived and when battle would commence was where the mages would be, and it was an important one.

Unlike Orlais, which relies heavily on crossbows for its archery, Ferelden was a country for the longbow. They could really reach out and touch us with those, at about the same ranges we could shoot back.

I was worried about that, so the mages got redistributed. The Libertarians and Lucrosians would be spread out along the entire line, to put up magical barriers around the troops. Bullets seem to be harder to stop with such magic than arrows, for whatever reason. The firelancers would still be arranged on the hilltops.

There was still the matter of the mages on the other side to deal with. The Templars were formed up in the centre behind the pikes and crossbow troops. The Aequitarians we mounted up. That way, we could counter any concentration of enemy mages, and if they didn't concentrate, we could exploit that too.

Something a certain officer noted themselves.

From left to right, the army was arranged as follows;

McNulty in command of the left, made up of one thousand five hundred firelancers and two batteries totalling thirty cannon.

Barris in command of the centre, with his hundred Templars and two thousand 'tercio' troops, crossbows deployed ahead of the defences so he could draw the enemy in with a retreat.

Among the ranks, Armen's Libertarians, the smirking guy himself with Barris in the centre. Behind the hills, Louise de Villars, Isewen and Velarana, commanding the cavalry of the Guard, the Lancers and the Aequitarians.

On the right, Soprano commanded two thousand five hundred firelancers, including her Rangers, and three batteries of cannon, two fifteen gun ones and one specialist one placing among the front troops. The Avvars were up there too. As was I.

Mike was commanding the rear column of the army, so wasn't present.

When the Royal Army of Ferelden finally showed itself, I felt we were as ready as we could be.

I watched the road beyond the bridge for the whole morning, sitting on top of the earth and wood defences the troops had spent the morning and the day before piling up, one-sided trenches and abatis, as it came on. There was a clear field of view in front for miles around, only small trees dispersed around to break it in some places. Light forest was to either side.

A good deal of the ground in front of us was marshy, the flood plain living up to its name as the banks swelled with rainwater. The causeway that the Highway sat on was dry, but the rest of the ground in front was not. The overcast skies had dumped buckets on us in the night, but that had stopped. The exception was the right flank, where the banks and ground were higher thanks to the protruding part of our hill.

Even by our standards, the enemy made a sight.

The knights of Ferelden came first, as one body of mounted troops. Fluttering red banners flying above them, the mabari appearing as a golden stain on them from a distance. They were almost as heavily armoured as our own chevaliers, and about as numerous. They were accompanied by archers at the rear of the column, also mounted. I read the intention behind their presence easily; Orlesian armies had a tendency to mount heavy cavalry attacks on the Fereldan forces during the previous war, to prevent them closing chokepoints.

The cavalry came across the bridge, not a care for the cannon batteries looking down on them (albeit beyond what we could shoot accurately at). The knights and archers hopped off their horses, set down stakes around the bridgehead they had just seized, and waited for an assault they were sure was coming in battle formation.

All perfectly reasonable, as any military person will understand. Had they been forced to take the bridge by force or use the fords elsewhere, I could have turned it into a reverse Battle of the River Dane with great ease. And I was counting on their mythologising of that battle, to refuse to cross, to refuse to make the same mistake the chevaliers had decades before. To draw the Fereldans in.

If the olive branch I intended to send went down in flames, I would have to bloody them. I couldn't do that with water in the way. They'd make a break for it as soon as they realised they were outmatched, and I needed to hold them for longer than that to send the required message that war was not the solution to the problem.

An hour later, the main columns began arriving. Compared with the Orlesian legions and their own cavalry, they were less well equipped. Chainmail or splintmail was the best armour they had, and none had sets that protected anything other than their upper torso. Leather predominated, except for the metal kettle helmets.

In bygone eras, that might have been a disadvantage. Not any longer. The firelance made wearing plate armour a bad investment of money and energy, at least when facing armies that used them. The Fereldans would be able to move more quickly than most of the troops we had faced before. Their bows, swords and axes could all get the job done, if they used their mobility correctly.

The King's party arrived at midday, accompanied by the human Grey Wardens that had been discharged to serve him, and I began to worry about the same time that it did. He was not at the rear of his columns. Still more troops were pouring in, setting camp on their side of the bridge or moving across it to reinforce those that had already been sent. More than I had expected.

More and more longbow troops, in particular. Another legacy of the Fifth Blight; it's far safer to kill darkspawn from a distance.

"They just keep coming," I said to Ciara, who was sat beside me the whole morning, "Looks like there could be thirty thousand of them. Hope to hell they don't know we have only eleven. "

She was dressed in a Kevlar helmet and plate-carrier, but her light hunting gear underneath, the best compromise of protection and mobility there was. Her daggers were on the front of her chest, for quickdraw stabbing. Expecting the worse, as I was.

"We don't have that kind of luck," she replied, stringing her bow, "But they have to be wondering what we're doing up here on the hills, which helps."

I looked across to the northern hill, Hill 2 by our nomenclature, slightly further back from the river than where I was standing, on Hill 1. It bristled with firelancers and cannon, peeking out of the cover like wary animals. Ciara's assessment was dead on. Traditionally, you would block a river crossing, not allow it.

The Fereldans were brave to take the initiative on the perceived mistake on my part, and they weren't stupid enough to go straight on the attack until they had formed up their full strength.

"We'll make a Fredericksburg out of this if they're not put off by that," I said, rubbing my eyes, "Not that anyone here knows what that means."

"I don't know what that means," Ciara pointed out, fiddling with an arrow.

"Be glad you don't," I replied, "And pray you won't find out."

"Pray for those ones?" she snorted, flicking her head towards the opponent, "Can you do something for me?"

"Anything," I said. I expected some words for Armen, in case she died. That wasn't what she was getting at all.

"Get out your binoculars or that scope of yours," Ciara said, pointing at the position of the bridgehead, "Take a look."

I didn't quite see what she was getting at, but I had promised to do what she had asked, so I upheld my word. I plucked the heavy binos out of their place on my hip, and set to looking.

I saw what I had before; longbowmen, stakes in the ground, horses, armoured swordsmen. Nothing unusual.

"Now look at our army," Ciara said, stretching her arms up above her head and standing up.

I looked around and saw our soldiers. Round helmets over their heads, cast in the same sort of shape as my own. Thick padded hats underneath them for both comfort and proper protection. Leather and cloth formed in the same way as our own kevlar plate-carriers, protecting the most vital areas while allowing movement. Above them, Old Glory, the UN banner and the regimental colours of the Rangers waved in the biting breeze.

Nothing unusual there either, in other words. I was at a complete loss.

"Okay," I said, "What was I supposed to have noticed?"

"Orlesians, Avvars, Fereldans, mages," Ciara said, counting off the people on the fingers of her right hand, " _Elves._ "

Her argument finally clicked. "You doubt Alistair has such an army," I said.

"I know he doesn't," she nodded, "Maybe not out of his own choices, but whatever happened with the Hero of Ferelden, most of what he did to fix things didn't last."

Probably because he left, I mused to myself.

"The mages kept their freedoms," I said, "But I guess that hasn't lasted either. The Knight-Commander at Kinloch was jumpy as a jackrabbit."

Ciara blinked, out of lack of knowledge of what a jackrabbit was. Informing her some days later was good fun. "All I know is that I won't pity them if we fight," she said, "They would have no pity for me."

"Sam," said a voice from behind, intonation deep but feminine.

Surprised, I turned to find Asala and Mariette lurking behind me. The former attired in the Avvar fashion once again, half-naked in the usual intimidating-but-beautiful way, painted white and blue. The latter dressed in a heart-stoppingly similar manner to the things she was wearing the first time I met her, the time she had tried to kill me; in full harlequin armour, right up to the idealised human face as a mask, daggers at her hips, bow in her hands. Though less colourful, with darker tones in blue. A piece for night attacks, I thought immediately.

The sight of the two warriors was enough to put Ciara on edge, her own fingers nocking an arrow and standing to the side of me to get a good shot. I'm sure if I could have seen Mariette's face, she would have been visibly amused. Asala gave my friend a single glance, and moved up to me. A little too close, really, but Qunari concepts of personal space or even privacy are lacking to begin with, so I tried not to draw any conclusions.

"There is a Grey Warden _saarebas_ at the bottom of the hill," Asala said, "Claims she is allowed to come up."

I sighed. Everyone was being quite insane about my personal safety. That they had stopped a mage, whom could very much harm them, to protect me, whom was entirely immune to magic, wasn't the best display of logic. But the security protocols I had beaten into Mike's folks a year or more before were in turn beaten into everyone else in the original ten thousand soldiers of the Army, and almost all of those present were from those first two waves of recruits.

"She's no threat," I said, "Asala, can you bring her up please?"

"Certainly," the Qunari smiled back. She wandered off back down the muddy path, as it tracked to the peak of the hill behind me.

Mariette took her place at my side, again too close and without the excuse of being from a culture that didn't get that concept. Which while masked was downright offputting. "Marquis," she said, "You charmer. Two Qunari now. I should have known. You're just too tired for me, is all."

"That would be insulting my stamina," I quipped, pushing myself off the raised ground I was sitting on, getting away from her, "But I'm a little busy at the moment."

Mariette let out a single, haughty laugh. "The Marquise would not have hesitated to flirt," she said.

"She isn't here," Ciara said, "And she isn't here."

The harlequin shrugged with her hands, as an actual shoulder shrug was probably too _paysan_ , and leaned against the earthworks, watching me through the eye-slits. I deemed it wise to look practically anywhere else, which led my eyes upwards enough to spot the single eagle circling overhead. Just the one, the silver headed one. One of the two usual suspects.

"Well now," I said up at the sky, "Where's your friend?"

Hanging around Julie, I would later find out.

The others looked up, and we all regarded the fine looking bird do its thing, swooping around, as if it was examining our defences. It was a great distraction for a little while, and I was still in that state when Asala returned with the Warden-Commander unnoticed.

"What are you doing?" Andras asked, incredulous.

I glanced at her, finding her brown eyes staring at me from under her silver-lined blue cowl sharply. She was fully kitted out in silverite.

"Ah, just a little bird watching," I said, returning to it, "That eagle is one of two that followed us from Orlais. And I have no idea how they followed us through the Deep Roads, or why."

Andras clicked her tongue, looking up herself for a moment. "That is strange, to say the least," she said, "But is this really the time?"

"Got to appreciate the little things," I replied, "Might be dead by sundown."

That was an attitude the Warden-Commander, and indeed all others present, could appreciate. "The new Warden-Recruits are still asleep," she reported, "And I spotted the King's Banner on the way in."

"Time for you to go parley," I concluded.

"How likely do you think it is that the King will accept," Mariette asked, "I do not think I would, in his place."

Andras breathed out loudly, inclining her head downwards. "It depends on many factors," she said, "There are likely to be many voices both for and against our deal among the nobles. The Chancellor, Eamon Guerrin, is likely to be for peace. The Warden-Constable I sent in command of those I discharged for service will not be, he has personal reasons to oppose the deal that have nothing to do with any of us. The southern nobles will likely all want to go home rather than fight, the northerners will fear that only fighting can stop you from raiding their property eventually."

"So it's a toss up?" I asked, "Those don't seem like good odds."

"It's a good deal," Andras said, "It is possible I can convince some of the merits."

"Some, but not all," said Asala, "And Ferelden is ruled by its nobles, more than its King."

"The true power is with its Queen, now," the Warden-Commander smiled, "Alistair is a moral leader and a warrior of renown. A Grey Warden beyond compare except to Amell himself. But the political leader is Anora. She won't weigh the benefits of the deal to Ferelden alone, she will weigh whether or not the nobles will revolt if she accepts it. She will undoubtedly have come along to assure her role in any decisions that have to be made."

"Better hope fucking Teagan isn't there," I frowned, "I guarantee you he'll throw his weight behind an assault. Julie got riled up when they spoke. Not that she was wrong, but he took it badly."

"I would be more worried about Lord Cousland," Andras said, "Teagan alone could not swing things if his brother says the opposite. Fergus Cousland is a Teyrn, and Amaranthine falls legally within his terynir. He's my liege lord. If he says no, the deal is dead. He is a reasonable man, but he knows what loss truly means... and he might be afraid for his lands."

After all, it was his responsibility to care for and organise their safety, from the Waking Sea Bannorn to Amaranthine's own.

"What happens if you don't convince them?" Mariette asked, "To you, and our deal."

"I'll still gain the support of the nobles that wanted peace," Andras smiled, "I will seem like a reasonable person, with Ferelden's interests at heart. And as for our deal... well, if they don't accept it and you win the battle, I can honour it freely. If you don't, I can't."

If we lost the battle, marching into Amaranthine unopposed would be the least of our worries. But I was determined that we wouldn't lose. I turned on my radio, and climbed up onto the earthworks, in full view of the army.

"Okay people, the Warden-Commander is going forward," I said, "If things don't go well, we hold the line until they break and run. Good luck to you all."

"Don't worry Sam," Armen said back, "I'm sure they'll soil themselves after the first cannonade." Breaths of amusement came through on the line from multiple throats. Or perhaps, of nerves.

'If only' was my only thought of the possibility.

* * *

Andras rode through our line alone, approaching the Fereldan's own perimeter at an easy trot on a maroon destrier. To my great relief, she wasn't shot down as she did so, and was admitted pretty snappily past the sentries. By this point, the entire Royal Army had arrived, and almost all of it was across the bridge on our side. She rode across the bridge and into their camp, unobstructed.

Clearly, they hadn't yet decided on a strategy for dealing with us, or they would have tried to put it into action already, but it was guaranteed that they were in the midst of doing so. It was winter. The number of daylight hours was limited. We had disassembled our nightly camps in the dark hours of the morning every day so we could use the best use of every single daylight one, during our advance.

The Fereldans could not attack us wholesale at night, and it was likely they knew our forces had split by then. Julie and the rest of our army were only a day away, two at the most. They couldn't delay.

I thought it all boded well for Alistair and Anora accepting the deal. Having only a few hours of light left to attack a prepared position put the advantage squarely in our corner. The Warden-Commander would show up just as they were deciding how to handle that, with a peace plan. I could almost believe they would see sense at once, only memories of Teagan's utter refusal to face facts dampening my enthusiasm.

I was right to withhold absolute hope.

Less than an hour after Andras had entered the Ferelden camp, the Royal Army began spreading out into a line of battle from its bridgehead, matching the length of our line with ease and then some. The royal banners and the Grey Warden banners soon appeared at the bridge. The King was coming, and not in peace.

Andras reappeared from the Fereldan lines and galloped back up the Highway, stopping below my position. She shook her head at me. No joy. The deal had been refused.

I rubbed my face, utterly exasperated for a moment by the stubbornness of Fereldans, but forced myself into the mindset required for what was coming; killing. I waved Andras on, signalling for her to get back to Vigil's Keep. She did so, the centre of the lines parting to let her pass. I watched her go, before giving the orders.

"Okay, diplomacy has failed," I said over the radio, "Time to show the Fereldans why that is a bad thing."

"We're ready, Marquis," McNulty said from Hill 2, "Let them come."

"That's the spirit," I said, "All batteries, begin prep."

"Yes, Marquis," replied Locke, the Tranquil gunner as emotionless as ever.

The orders were relayed via the section commanders, and the nearest cannons became a hive of activity, as the Tranquil prepared the powder charges, piled up solid shot and canister rounds, and began placing the long-necked lyrium-grain fuzes into the shells to be fired. They did it all like it was a ritual, precise movements accomplished for the worship of the Goddess of War. Nervous wasn't something that the Tranquil got. It disgusted me that they couldn't, that this had been taken from them, even if it did help me.

A round helmet appeared in the lower part of my vision, and I found Ciara checking her daggers.

"Okay, you ready?" I said, "Stick with me, and don't do anything rash."

"I came to stop you doing anything rash," she replied with a smile, "Remember?"

"So did I," said Mariette from my right, a deep blue blob in my peripheral vision. Which made me a little itchy on that side.

Asala let a noise out of her throat that told all needed to let us know how reliable she thought Mariette was, before wandering off to join the regiment she was actually assigned to. This was slightly hypocritical of a woman who had watched me attack a mage and the abomination it spawned without appearing to break a sweat. That she had set on me. Lucky the Qun is unforgiving, their loss is very much our gain. But admittedly, Asala hadn't seen Mariette at work that day outside Vindargent.

Echoes of music rang out in the air, not our own Dalish fifes and drums, but a deeper beat.

 _Boom-boom-boom-ba-ba-ba-boom-boom-boom._

The Fereldens were beating the advance. Their wide line of longbowmen advanced across the field in front of us, their flanks covered with strong arrays of infantry, the edges of the marshy ground the only thing keeping them from spreading out even further. There was more than enough space for them to attack with their numbers, especially as Hill 1 could be attacked almost from three sides.

Which is why I had the bulk of the artillery placed on it, and why I had the Highlanders with me.

"Batteries one through four, load and fire," I ordered, "Battery five, load roundshot." Five being made up of the smoothbore cannons that we didn't have time to complete before Gaspard kicked us out of Orlais. Hell, most of their carriages were makeshift, especially compared to the ones used by their rifled cousins.

The Tranquil nearby grabbed the powder bags, rammed them home into the cannons. Most of us observed them, soldiers and officers alike, particularly as they did the same with the explosive shells, the ram-tools specially modified to allow the loading without setting them off. Even I had some trepidation at the batteries being so close; usually, we weren't in among the guns.

As the Tranquil completed the loading and began adjusting their aim, I began observing the Fereldans again through my binos. They were making good headway. The far-right of their line was already wheeling to get around on that side. I began to notice mages in the front ranks of most of the units as I scanned from right to left, and their staves were beginning to glow. Cold shot through my gut. They were about to do something spectacular.

The cannons fired almost as one, the roar of superheated gas sending their shells whirring off into the air.

Less than a second later, the entire front line of the Fereldan Army disappeared behind an immense green cloud of fog, flowing outwards from dozens of points along it. As the shells landed, the cloaking of the entire force was complete. We heard the explosions, the flashes turning the fog luminous for split seconds, strobing for a few seconds. I had little doubt we had a good effect on target too; our gunners' aim was true.

But now we were blind, robbing us of the accuracy and firepower advantage we had at range. Worse, the fog was billowing towards us. The Fereldans were still advancing.

"Fuck," I thought aloud, "That's not good."

To pile on more misery, a swarm of arrows dived out of the mists and among our crossbow troops, the forward most position we had. The unfortunate women would have been turned into pincushions if they weren't hiding in foxholes, but that didn't stop some of the arrows hitting home. The shots came in high arcs, more or less at their maximum range, so the digging in we had done down there was less useful.

Poor girls took arrowheads to the shoulders and into their collars, and would have to the head if it wasn't for their helmets. A second volley followed, and a third. They climbed out of their foxholes bleeding and screaming with pain, their comrades doing the same, gathering the wounded and dying under arms and over their shoulders. They began retreating in disarray. My heart burned with fury.

And all the while, the rumbling beyond got louder and louder. The fog advanced, almost swallowing our retreating troops, before stopping dead again.

"Barris, back to the second line!" I ordered, "They're coming!"

Another two volleys of arrows pierced the ground or ricocheted away on the cobblestones of the Highway, but didn't catch any more of my people. At least as far as I could see. The fog was beginning to eat the vista.

" _Formez deux rangs!_ " Soprano commanded from behind me, her voice carrying in the air, " _Baïonnettes!_ "

The firelancers, initially deployed to fire at their own individual targets, gathered towards my position. They came together in two ranks in the main trench behind the abatis, as it wound in a gentle semi circle, punctuated by cannon. As they began snapping their bayonets on, I couldn't help but reflect that it looked more like something out of Earth's First World War, right down to the hobnailed boots, _stahlhelms_ and the green gas advancing towards us.

The casualties we could do without..

The cannons fired their second volley in a Mexican wave, the shells sending the magical smoke whirling and shifting, muzzle flashes reflected off of it. It was getting darker out, the sun an hour off of setting. The detonations were a lot closer this time, the Tranquil gunners approximating where the enemy had been, in the way I had told them to back when we were training them up. The reward for my foresightedness on that was muffled screams, and soon after, the ferrous stench you'd expect.

But if I could hear them that clearly and could smell them, they were closer than I had thought. They had made it to the bottom of the hill already, cleared the marshes. A bolt of fear went through me. At the rate they were moving, the Fereldans would be up and over us in no time. They weren't wasting a single second of the tactical advantage they had gained through the concealment of the smoke.

They'd have to slow when they got to the abatis, and we'd likely see them at that point. And they'd see us.

"Barriers," I said into my mouthpiece, "Now!"

The order went around, and the slight blue glow of magical barriers shone around the bodies of my troops, shattering into the incorporeal glass shards as it tried to contact my own. I looked around, making sure everyone was protected. Ciara and Mariette were glowing slightly, Ciara smiling up at me knowing I was now the only one without such protection. The Rangers to my left were the same. Asala and the Highlanders were glowing green, the barrier magic of the Avvar mages operating on a somewhat different principle, but they weren't going to be taking fire easily.

Just in time too.

Like a blizzard, the unnatural smoke gave way to whole flurries of magical bolts; fire, ice, electricity whipped past the trench line in waves. I ducked, Ciara ducked, the entire line ducked, sheltering behind the earthworks. The Fereldans might as well have been using machineguns. How the hell they had come up with the idea of suppressive fire, I don't know, but it was damned effective. Not a man or woman present wanted to put themselves in the way of that.

Except I was immune to it, so I soon thought myself stupid for reacting like that.

I needed to see what was coming, and give the troops a chance to use their firelances. So I crouch-shuffled to a place I thought I wouldn't bring the attacks down into the ranks nearby, and where I could avoid being spotted by any bowmen. I certainly wasn't immune to arrows, not even temporarily like my troops were.

The sight before me was heart-stopping.

Attempting to negotiate the tangled mesh of sharpened branches and felled tree-trunks was a regiment or two of silverite-clad, heavily armed soldiers. Swordsmen, archers, mages. The blue-and-silver Griffon banner hanging over them alongside the red-and-gold of the Fereldan Mabari. The Grey Wardens and the sworn-swords of the Warden-Commander in person. To the left, swordsmen in far greater numbers were advancing too, relying on mass rather than quality to think to get the job done.

As I had planned, the abatis' combination of random post-holes, stakes, sharpened trunks and animal waste were working wonders at slowing them down. But their mages kept up their fire, seeming unusually resilient to fatigue and mana-loss, and it was only a matter of time before we were in for a world of hurt.

"Marquis, this is McNulty," came a voice over the radio, firelance cracks echoing over the line, "I've got the King's Banner right in front of me, Maker-damned dogs jumping through the obstacles, and cavalry behind them! I need reinforcements!"

That was more than I thought the Fereldans would have thrown at Hill 2. It was higher at its peak, better protected by the marsh, had deeper defensive works, and it was further away from the bridge. The guns and firelancers I had placed there would get an extra volley off before things got personal. It was the dogs that were the trouble. They'd save the Fereldans a volley or two, and that might be enough to grind the two regiments up there into the dirt. Not that cracking the Grenadiers would be any small task.

"The centre is being showered with arrows, Marquis," said Barris, "But we can hold." The pikemen wore full plate armour, so I certainly hoped so. The space between the two hills was still obscured with magical smoke, even if the approaches to them from the front were not, but I could see the dark forms of arrow shafts falling even from where I was. I hadn't thought it possible to be further impressed with the detail of Fereldan planning, but there it was.

We still had superior firepower. What we needed to do was use it. Quickly.

"They're trying to take both hills," I said, "I've got Grey Wardens coming up at me, the ones Andras released for military service. Barris, send me up your Templars and send your crossbows to McNulty.

Velarana, break off your Aequitarians from Baronne de Villars' command, and join McNulty's position.

De Villars, Isewen, form up to attack as we discussed on my order."

"Yes, Marquis!" came back, a reply henceforth returned without emotion.

"Soprano, prepare for volley fire," I added at last. The tattooed elf nodded at me from her position down the line, giving me a thumbs up before undoubtedly growling her orders to her runners.

Ciara and Mariette had snuck over to me in the mean time, bows nocked for the quickdraw.

"What about them?" asked Mariette, nudging her head at the Avvars to my extreme right.

"They're exactly where they need to be," I replied, "And they know what to do."

"So what do we do?" Ciara asked.

"You stay down," I sighed, "I'll do something bad for my health."

The Grey Wardens were almost half-way through the abatis, which was a lot closer than I would have liked them to get. I cocked the charging handle of my heavy firelance, and waited for the right moment. The Tranquil were turning the gleaming guns once more, well shielded by the attending Libertarians even with all the attention they brought.

How appropriate that silverite artillery would be used to kill men wearing silverite.

The cannons roared. The frontal batteries's smoothbore barrels raked the abatis with roundshot in enfilade, shooting from their positions closer to the centre outwards through the packed Fereldan lines to their right. The rifled cannons behind joined in very quickly afterwards, explosive shells.

The effect was the mangling of more men and women than I care to overly think about.

The roundshot tore through the warriors and the defences with equal abandon, whatever magical protections the former had meaning nothing against the sheer kinetic energy. The explosive rounds followed up, targeting the men-at-arms rather than the Wardens due to the danger of hitting us. They have to have been among the unluckiest bastards to have ever lived. The shells hit heads and shoulders due to the angles, and thus detonated at head and shoulder height... liquefying and shattering heads and shoulders.

I felt a wave of nausea ride over me, glad that everyone else had been ducking down and were ignorant of it all, but it was no time for that. I mercilessly beat the feeling down.

The Fereldans wavered, trying to grab any cover they could and finding none to be had. The Wardens as much as the men-at-arms. The moment to act had come.

I was at the 'hinge' of our line between the Highlanders and the Rangers, where I could have seen almost everything in theory. Certainly I could see every single Warden. I stood up, set my firelance on its bipod, put the buttplate to my shoulder and my cheek to the stock, took aim and fired.

I had one category of target; Warden mages and archers. The combination of their superior magic, excellent armour and the reputation of their comrades made them an intolerable triple threat. I swept from the edge of the Warden line on the right inwards towards the centre, giving three round bursts. Fish in a friggin' barrel doesn't begin to describe it. Ciara and Mariette also stood up, to put their archery to good use. Ill-advisedly.

Together, we stitched them up good.

Soprano and the Avvars saw their own moment to strike. The artillery had broken up the enemy advance, my own attack had stunned the most dangerous part of it completely.

Our own mages let loose first. Not with multiple, rapid bolts, but with large concentrations of elemental power, as they had been instructed to do. Fireballs sailed forwards, glowing brighter than the sun was through the clouds. Ice burst up from the mud in great stalagmites. Lightning bolts fell from the sky, not visible themselves except as bright afterimages on your retina. The barriers of the Fereldans, men-at-arms and Wardens both, shattered. Men burned, were impaled, were electrocuted. Still they came on.

The bravery left me utterly breathless, incredulous that people could stand suffering to such a degree and keep moving.

Then the Rangers rose up.

" _Levez-vous_!" cried the sergeant nearest me at the top of her voice, " _Levez-vous maintenant!_ "

The Rangers shoved themselves off the ground, practically throwing their full body weight plus that of their armour. They came together in order without further command, a wall made of soldiers, muskets and gleaming bayonets, behind the piled dirt in front of them. The Avvars did the same, an arrows in one hand, bows and their next arrows in the other. The Fereldans could likely only see them from the chest up at best.

" _EN JOUE!_ "

The firelancers cocked the flints of their weapons, the clicking jarring to the ear. The barrels were levelled, the second ranks aiming over the shoulders of the first. Our Highlanders nocked and drew their weapons, aiming them for direct shots. I imagine even the Wardens feared what was about to happen; they tried again to duck.

" _FEU!_ "

The volleys of the regiments closer to the centre crackled forth first, before the ones nearest me added their own fire. The bullets rippled through the Fereldans, and they fell in rows. The Avvars' arrows followed in afterwards, introducing a little more chaos to the killing. Our opponents were slipping over the dead and wounded, a seething mass of injured people as far as I could tell.

At least, among the regular men-at-arms. The Wardens and Silverguards fared far better. They fell in equal numbers, but those who had taken shots to the chest seemed to be alive for the most part.

Silverite can just about save a man from a lead minié ball, if it's thick enough and you've got good padding underneath. But you'll still break some ribs and get the breath knocked out of you long enough that you might still die. And the chest is the only area that really works for. Still, good thing it's hugely expensive if you don't control a source directly. It doesn't work so well against jacketed spitzer rounds.

Regardless, it looked to me like the whole Fereldan left was wavering before the three bodyblows we had just delivered to them. They were wide eyed. None were still on their feet, but none wanted to lay down in the blood and guts around them either, so they were only half-crawling. They were splattered with both ichor and mud.

The Tranquil were mere seconds away from unleashing the canister shot on them, because they were very nearly out of the abatis. The firelancers would be able to put a second volley out soon after that. The Avvars were now taking potshots with their bows, keeping the Fereldans down.

I felt myself lift with the triumph. By every military science I am aware of, their attack should have been defeated right there. I believed we _had_ stopped them.

But there are moments in history where one person truly can make the difference.

I was in the process of reloading my weapon when I noticed a single figure, standing. A Grey Warden, by her armour. I knew it was a her from the form-fitting cut of the scaled silverite armour, with blue cloth. She was a mage too, which was the important part. Her staff was raised over her winged silverite helmet, and a bubble of fire was growing from its tip. It grew from a pinhead to the size of a car in maybe three seconds.

I didn't even have time to say 'Oh shit!', or complete my reloading, before it flew right at the intersection of the Ranger and Highlander regiments. That is to say, right at me.

You might think that I would be unconcerned, but who was standing right beside me?

I didn't feel anything in particular as I began to act, which I hope means that my actions were so automatic because of who I was protecting.

I let go of my weapon, letting the sling catch in. With my arms free, I stepped in front of Ciara and Mariette. What the latter was thinking was still concealed by her mask, but Ciara looked like she might turn to ash before the fire even reached her. She was going as white as a sheet, and it probably would have taken a crowbar to get her jaws to open.

Struggling to avoid the very pointy arrows in their hands, I curled my arms around their necks and drew them tight up against me, their heads tucked in at my chest.

The fireball landed only a yard or two behind me, on the top edge of the earthworks.

The flames burst forth to either side of me, bright orange waves roiling past like a tsunami. Whatever process that protected me from magic parted them, creating a shadow of safety in front of me. Ciara and Mariette were within it, only just. The tip of Mariette's bow caught fire, like a candle.

Others were not so fortunate. My soldiers had seen the magic coming, and they weren't stupid enough to stand around waiting to get burned alive. They scrambled away, or jumped aside. But they weren't fast enough.

The conflagration swept straight past us and into the edges of both the Highlander and Ranger regiments, catching the outer platoons. The flames seemed alive, tracking and homing in towards the living. They swallowed the men and women whole. The barriers around the troops shattered first, unable to maintain protection against an attack that came from all directions. Next came the searing of flesh red and then black. Our people fell to the ground in piles, the leather of their plate-carriers cracked, their shining weapons covered in soot, their skin like coal, their hair gone. The smell was indescribable.

Not one who had been touched escaped with their life. Worse, the defences were ablaze at the corner section where we were, making them as much a danger and an impediment to us as they were to the Fereldans.

Sick with fury, I released Ciara and Mariette to complete the process of reloading my firelance. My companions both recoiled from the sight around them. The soldiers were trying their level best not to look either, as they rammed home the bullets into their own firelances mere feet away from the dead. The Rangers were all veterans, they handled that with aplomb. The nightmares could come later.

I clicked my weapon closed and looked at the enemy. They had rallied and were advancing once more, less than fifty yards away at most. They were being drawn in, and wouldn't be running away. I grabbed my mouthpiece.

"De Villars, attack now," I said, "Ignore the forces on the hills until their centre is routing."

The plan had been to attack just as the enemy was running away from the blooding we were to give them, but that shit had gone straight out the window as soon as we couldn't see them. No point leaving the chevaliers sitting on ass.

"It shall be done, Marquis," Blondie replied.

"All forces on Hill 2," I continued, "Move to redoubt position." Where all but one of our artillery was.

There was no acknowledgement this time. The Tranquil started the retreat by grabbed their gun carriages, lifting up the arms of the things, and hauling them backwards rapidly, one or two gathering the powder kegs. The rest of the firelancers and Highlanders followed suit right behind them. Satisfied that they were doing so in good order, I turned to make see what the enemy was doing.

I winced as a flash of white light half blinded me. The Grey Warden mage from before stood before me, half flash-stepped through the smoking ruins of our defences to go on the attack. It was a Warden-Constable, she had the same markings on her armour as Oghren had. She seemed as bewildered to see us as we were to see her. We all scrambled for weapons.

The mage got there first. She raised her spare hand and summoned a spirit blade, but unlike any I had ever seen a knight-enchanter summon. A giant, yellow curve, like a scimitar, and it seems she required no specialised hilt to do so, making it materialise out of thin air. She brought her curled fist down, coming down at my neck from a damned good angle to decapitate me.

Except the blade broke in two and disappeared as soon as it came within a hair's breath of me.

I got to my weapon next. She was far too close for the heavy firelance, so my hand had went to the mace hanging off my hip. I swiped at her without particular effort as to judging where I wanted to hit, and the head of the mace slammed into the side of her helmet. I must have put enough force onto it, because her helmet fell off, revealing deep black hair, neck length. The second strike was far more precise, placing the full force of the backstroke onto her collar. The bone cracked, and she fell to her knees.

It was at this point that everyone else joined the fray. Mariette gave the mage a kick to the head, for good measure. Lucky for the raven-haired mage, the harlequin was not wearing her dagger-shoes. Ciara loosed an arrow, but not at the mage. The rest of the Grey Wardens were emerging from the burning wreckage beside us. My companion made her mark, but the arrow stuck out of the silverite breastplate of her target, having done little.

I changed my mace over to my left hand, took hold of my firelance's grip, and squeezed off a long spray of bullets to dissuade them from charging us. That many could have easily overwhelmed us. Not sure I hit a single one of them, but the tracers flying through the air sure had them shitting themselves.

When I was sure they wouldn't have time to close the distance, I grabbed Mariette, who looked like she was going to go full American History X on the Warden Mage.

"Back!" I shouted.

We all ran like hell to the redoubt line, the firelancers and Highlanders waiting with the freshly arrived Templars. We heard a rumble behind us, that told me either that the Grey Wardens were not wasting time in chasing us or that our own cavalry had just rounded the hill to charge. In truth, it was both, but I wasn't about to stop and check.

Upon reaching the redoubt line, we knelt down in front of the Rangers, just as they took aim as one body to release another volley. Being so close to the muzzles over our heads, the cracks of the firelances were half-deafening. I let another few bursts go for luck too. Still more of the enemy fell.

The Wardens and Silverguards were far fewer in number now, as were the sword units to the right, but they still thought they could take us. They had to be near the end. We almost were, and we hadn't trekked up a hill under shell and canister fire. Yet they'd make it before the Tranquil could put more grapeshot into their ranks to convince them of that reality. Only one thing for it.

"Cold steel!" I ordered, rising to my feet.

" _SOLDATS, PREPAREZ-VOUS A L'ATTAQUE!"_ came the order from Soprano.

The rebel yell went up from the Rangers, and the Avvars joined in, the former bringing their firelances into position to best use the long blades on them, the latter foregoing their longbows for longswords. Asala, Cormac and Aoife stepped in front of their troops.

" _CHARGEZ!_ "

"CHARGE!"

Yelling like banshees, the whole line burst out of the redoubt and straight at the Fereldans. The remaining mages in our ranks struck theirs first, creating at least three dozen running magical duels between the two forces as we closed. At least until the Templar section let loose with their Smites, and magical capability of the entire flank died.

The Rangers met the Wardens and their vassals head on, the tight ranks something the enemy had no answer for now. 'Force Concentration' in action. All the Wardens could do was hold fast, parrying as many thrusts from our soldiers as they could.

On our left, the regular firelancers closed with the swordsmen, which was far less in our favour numerically, but far more in our favour in terms of the equipment. Silverite bayonets cut through iron and steel chainmail like butter.

The Highlanders' line stretched beyond that of the Wardens, and the Avvars took the opportunity to envelop the Silverguards on the right, almost surrounding them and greatly outnumbering them. Of course, they didn't have silverite weapons and were facing troops wearing the stuff, so they were going to need the numbers.

Particularly as the Fereldans seemed to have no intention of giving up. If anything, their morale seemed to rise now that they were stuck in. Our own determination was unshaken by this either. We didn't have the option of running away after all, the Fereldans certainly did.

Mariette followed along, slipping in between the fighting men and women to deliver lethal blows with her dagger to either side of mine and Ciara's advance through the Warden centre. With the benefit of hindsight, I have to say I was too busy watching her, keeping one eye on her at all times. Her attacks against distracted foes among their compatriots were both extremely impressive and extremely dangerous.

Which is why I didn't see the gleaming axe coming at me until it was too late. A man at least my equal in stature, with long black hair and harsh eyes, covered in armour and the blue of the Warden Order, swung straight for my head. Kevlar's great for stopping ballistic attacks; arrows, smaller bullets, shrapnel, that sort of thing. But it's really not great for stopping an axe of any sort.

I brought up my firelance sideways to parry the attack, the attacker being too close for me to use it on him. The axe bit into the barrel just shy of the receiver, travelling half way through before being stopped, rendering the whole thing useless as a weapon. Which rendered me entirely defenceless unless I could get my mace again before the second strike.

If it hadn't been for Ciara, I would have been cut to little pieces.

She appeared in front of me, crouching and swinging her dagger about. She sliced open the man's sleeve, but not deeply enough to actually cut him. I saw that he was a Constable too, his symbol of rank hanging off a small golden chain. It seems he had been looking for me as much as I had been for him. I whipped the mace off my hip once more, pulling the firelance off of me and dropping it to the muddy ground. It was useless now anyway.

He swung again in a wide arc, missing me and sending Ciara dodging away. Mariette pressed, trying to use his attention on Ciara to advantage, but she was outmatched, finding her dagger thrusts countered with attacks aimed at her hands. The last one hit home, impacting her left wrist at the end of a swing, her dagger flying from her hand into the ground. She wisely backed off before I could tell her to.

Ciara went in for another hit, drawing blood this time along the Constable's arm with an upward stab. He responded with a vicious kick to her leg, sending my companion sprawling into the mud and blood below. A couple of the Rangers dragged her back before he could finish her, but that wasn't his intention.

With both Mariette and Ciara out of the way, he rounded on me, parrying a bayonet stab to approach me. We began trading blows, mace versus axe, small shields for defence. I knew at once that he would get the better of me. I was trained for riot control for a couple of months. This guy had a great deal more training in close quarters armed combat than that. Every time I attacked, he was ready with a riposte. Every time he attacked, I just barely got out of his way.

I figured all I needed was to delay, to wait until the Rangers beside me got to him in numbers. An idea that was reinforced by the fuzzy sight of Avvars beginning to surround the Wardens and Silverguards from behind. What I thought were positive reports from McNulty and De Villars filled my ear over the radio, but I couldn't make out what they were saying and fight the Constable at the same time.

The bastard must have figured out I was stalling, because his aggression rose all of a sudden. His axe slapped away my mace, and he delivered a swift kick straight between my legs. I fell back on my ass in agony, having not expected such a low blow, literally, eyes watering. He hovered over me for a moment, hesitating to strike.

"I am Warden-Constable Nathaniel Howe!" he declared rapidly, "And I do this for Ferel..."

Not about to let him execute me, I lashed out with my foot into his knee. He staggered, allowing me to get away another step, my head still swimming with pain. He looked outraged that I had interrupted him, which made me feel immensely better, but not as good as just afterwards.

As he rose again to resume killing me, presumably with a great deal less showmanship this time, the silver-headed eagle dove out of the rapidly darkening sky and clawed him in the face. He waved his axe angrily, wondering what had just happened, but the eagle didn't give him the time to retaliate, beating its wings hard to climb into the air once more. It looked like he might have lost an eye, but either way, one was filled with blood.

Which is when Mariette reappeared, a dark blue figure darting between the lines almost on her hands and knees. She came from the side he was likely unable to see, and sliced him along his thigh, and attempted to stab him in the lower torso. The armour deflected the second attack, but by some miracle, he was still standing despite the ichor pouring from his leg. He was trying to get at Mariette again, but she was just as swift as she had been when she had danced rings around me.

I went over, shuffled over is probably more accurate, and gave him an eye for an eye. A swift kick to the injured leg, followed up with a full body punch to the head. The Warden-Constable crumpled to the floor, knees first before falling backwards onto his back, unconscious. The thought of smashing his skull in crossed my mind, though the need to double over and recover from my own misery was fairly overwhelming.

His fellow Wardens weren't inclined just yet to let that slide, and came past their colleagues to avenge him.

A white-fletched arrow flew over my right shoulder to stop the first. A fusiliade of five or six firelances came over my left to stop the rest. All a little too close for comfort. I ducked, thinking that more could be coming, but none did. At last, the Grey Wardens seemed to be cowed. They were disengaging, backing off into a pocket surrounded by the Rangers and Highlanders on all sides. They knew we had their leader, it seemed.

"Lay down your arms!" I wheezed, "Surrender and you won't be harmed!"

The click of flint hammers being pulled back on firelances followed my words, the retreat of the enemy allowing our people to reload their weapons. The rapidly closing darkness of evening lending itself to a divine interpretation of the moment, the Wardens and Silverguards saw the futility of continued resistance right then and there. They stuck their swords in the ground on the outer edge of what remained of their formation, and backed away.

I waved the troops forward to seize them, and doubled over hands-on-knees, half with relief, half to soothe my aching.

Soprano and Ciara padded up from behind, accompanied by a platoon of firelancers and a squad of Templars. Mariette joined us too, pulling her mask off and releasing her long blonde hair.

"Marquis, my apologies," said Soprano, "You weren't answering the radio. We thought you were dead."

"I am," I groaned back, "Report, General."

"We have won, sir," Soprano replied, "Look for yourself."

I did so, scanning the rest of the battlefield. The Fereldan centre and right was in flight to my left. Our Guards and Lancers were running riot, having taken the infantry and longbowmen in the centre respectively in the flanks. The firelancers on our own hill nearest the Highway were pouring fire on retreating columns of sword and spearmen. On the other hill, there was another pocket of Fereldans surrounded by our troops. Including the Royal Banner.

"How?" I asked.

"McNulty and Barris held the line, De Villars broke their centre, and Colonel Velarana captured the King, my lord," Soprano continued, "He was unable to use his Templar abilities for some reason."

Like I said, one person can change the course of a battle or history itself. Velarana did more than change the course of a battle that day. A fact she would never let anyone forget, but she earned the bragging rights by delivering victory from the jaws of defeat.

"Get Markham down here with the Hospitallers," I said, straightening up, "And send Colonel Velarana to me at once."

"At once, yes sir."

* * *

After the surprise the enemy had pulled out to nearly confound us, nearly neutralising the whole technological advantage we had, it was good discipline and the initiative of my officers that had won the day.

The debriefing on what had happened elsewhere on the battlefield was very interesting indeed.

In the centre, Armen and Barris came under a concerted attack. Longbows kept the entire section static, our mages having to concentrate hard on maintaining the magical barriers. With Teagan in command, the Fereldans sent in their own Templars to counteract the magic there, allowing the infantry and longbowmen to press the attack against the pikes.

Once the Wardens on our right had cleared the floodplain, the cavalry under De Villars and Isewen thundered around the Wardens' rear and straight into the side of the Fereldan centre attack, breaking it and sending those further along fleeing for their lives..

The attack on our left, against McNulty, was led by King Alistair himself. The light infantry and wardogs of the Ash Warriors went in first, to clear the abatis with light axes and distract the firelancers and Grenadiers. They were followed by the Kingsguard, the Knights of Fereldan and the Highever infantry under Fergus Cousland. This combination very nearly broke our left flank, despite huge Fereldan casualties, until Barris' crossbows arrived to plug the gaps.

The Fereldans still managed to get well inside the trenchline defences though, and McNulty too had been pushed back to his redoubt positions when Colonel Velarana arrived with the mounted Aequitarians. Shock cavalry action combined with magic is a very powerful combination. The Colonel repelled the far-right flank of the Fereldan Army and rode along the first trench line to envelop the Kingsguard, pummelling them with magical attacks during the entire manoeuvre. The coup de grace was delivered by the entire Aequitarian contingent Fade-stepping off of their horses, spirit blades at the ready, taking the fight in close.

There are myths that Velarana personally duelled Alistair, but they are unfortunately apocryphal. Alistair ordered a surrender once he was sure that anything else would get his entire Kingsguard killed. This sent the rest of the Fereldan right into retreat, at about the same time that Blondie was crashing into their centre with her chevaliers, although it was far more orderly.

The price for this victory was staggering. Fully half of the eleven thousand troops taken into battle were casualties, and very few of those were walking wounded. One thousand two hundred dead, the rest injured badly enough to be laid up for at least a few days. Some would still be recovering two months later. If we didn't have Markham, they would have died, more likely than not.

How many Fereldans died or were injured, I can't say. We couldn't count, the field before us was a scene of mass murder. We healed up those we had captured, those that would let us. We had taken two thousand prisoners, most of whom we released immediately after disarming them, as we had no means to imprison them. Those that escaped, we couldn't pursue. Night fell less than an hour after the Fereldan rout.

We kept the Wardens, the Kingsguard and the King, who was himself injured, taking a crossbow bolt to the shoulder. Markham put him under to heal him, so I wouldn't speak to the man that night.

Nathaniel Howe and the other Warden-Constable, Bethany Hawke, survived their wounds too. To Warden-Commander Andras' great delight. They'd play their parts in the months to come.

I promoted Velarana on the spot to General, placing all the mages under her direct command. She graciously accepted the promotion. She might not have won the political fight, yet, but she deserved at least that much. Mariette also got a commission in the Army, at the rank of Major, my trust in her now firmly established. She gave me a kiss in return, which was far from platonic, but taken by all present to be affection rather than lust. I offered Ciara any number of things to honour her, she accepted only Howe's silverite axe.

At the end of the day, we had held our position and protected that vital route to Amaranthine. Our people were saved. I went to bed physically and mentally exhausted, with a prayer to God to send Julie and the rest of the Army as fast as possible and to have Tam wake up already.

* * *

 _AUTHOR'S NOTE: The showdown!_

 _This was an absolute bitch to write, and I'm sure there'll be some inconsistencies as a result, but I'm quite happy with the overall feel of it._

 _In other news, I have begun the mapping out of the major battles of this series. Sahrnia is already complete, and this battle is almost so, as I wrote it while creating the maps for it. If anyone wants to recommend a place for me to put them up, that would be great. Imgur or deviantart maybe?_

 _ **Meathouse:** Here's an update at a more reasonable hour... for some._

 _ **Noblescar:** Have to remember that the Grey Wardens get involved in politics too. Particularly in Tevinter and Orlais._

 _ **Katkiller-V:** Weisshaupt's going to have its own problems soon enough..._

 _The occupation of Amaranthine begins next chapter, look forward to it._

 _On Julie, the days of her unchallenged rule will be coming to an end fairly shortly._

 _As for setting up a new country, your analysis isn't wrong on the face of it... but the situation can change. Remember that there's some serious mercantile and manufacturing knowledge available in the refugee pool. Tiberius' objectives are far more immediate though. Where Sam is doesn't matter so much as getting the exact thing required.._

 _ **thepkrmgc:** Gregoir being a fair and rational actor doesn't change his ideology though._

 _ **ImHavok795:** You ordered more. Here's some._

 _ **5 Coloured Walker:** Thanks as always for the nitpicks._

 _The current date as of this chapter is November 9:39, years after the events of Kirkwall and DA2. Including the Arishok's defeat at the hands of Hawke._

 _Orlais has blackpowder, it doesn't have the capability to actually manufacture designs for the weapons necessarily. Yet. And Orlais is in the middle of civil war, it'll take some time before it'll be expanding._

 _ **Infieri:** Markham is a crotchety old bastard... but I guess he's got a heart of gold._

 _The Circle of the Free Army is pretty famous among mages by this stage, and both the Orlesian mages and the Templars are watching the newcomers. That's not to say it'll always be happy days, but it's more than enough to assure it for now._

 _ **Phygmalion:** The sheer number of fics where a self-insert or another original character knows about Dragon Age sort of annoyed me. This was written almost as a foil to that genre. Glad to see it is effective in that role._

 _ **Transcendant:** You've touched on what will be more or less the central theme for the Amaranthine chapters and the entire next volume. Lots for you to look out for in the near future._

 _ **WhisperInTheTrees:** Very high praise indeed. To the extent that I'm encouraged to write my original stuff, including an original version of this story (the idea for which I adapted for DA). Though I have absolutely no idea why a person would read a Dragon Age fanfic without knowing Dragon Age, I'm not even sure this story is entirely comprehensible without knowing a decent bit of the canon._

 _Glad you are entertained._


	46. Chapter 46: Summit

**Chapter Forty-Six: Summit**

I awoke the next day, as stiff as a plank, aching all over. The sound of the rain tapping on the tent canvas above my head was what did it, rather than the cold that left the breath smoking. Something to be thankful for given how many corpses were within a click of our camp. We moved it to the peaks of the hills, on the lee side to where the fighting had been, to avoid getting washed out in the night.

If the rain had arrived only a few hours earlier than it did, we might have lost the battle.

My pains preventing me from simply sitting up, I rolled over onto my stomach and pushed myself up in the furs. At which point my eyes drew level with the other occupant of the bedding.

Mariette de Villars lay breathing softly beside me, her eyes closed, her mask missing, hair tangled across her face. Utterly asleep. In my addled mind, I couldn't help but think her face looked like a sleeping she-wolf. Both de Villars cousins had that sort of face, high cheekbones and sharp-when-closed wide-when-open eyes. Very lupine. Very French.

I snapped out of my inane thinking on the subject to address the proper question. What the hell was she doing there?

I quickly looked both her and myself up and down. Any trepidation about what I might not remember drained out of me. She was still dressed in the light hunting outfit she had been in the last time I saw her, and the clothing didn't appear to be in any disarray. I was still in the linen shirt and combat fatigue pants I was wearing before I went to sleep.

Suddenly, the image of what just had brought Mariette to be sleeping there flashed in my mind, and I felt a broad grin come across my face. There was nothing for it, I left her to her own devices and got up. Dressing in fatigues and washing, my watch told me it was early in the morning. Beginning of morning watch. Perfect.

I went to the table where my heavy firelance was perched, still half covered in mud and blood, leaning over it to inspect the barrel. Including the gleaming cut in its side, exposing the bore. That barrel was on its last legs by the standards of my home, but still could have done reasonable service for another battle or two. It wasn't ammunition for my firelances that was the problem really, I had thousands of rounds left. It was the weapons themselves. The heavy firelance, capable of firing hundreds of rounds before needing to be reloaded, now only had one barrel spare.

Sighing, I traced my finger over the wound on the metal. It really was a waste that it had taken the hit. But better than paying with my life. Warden-Constable Howe's face in my memory of the event was snarling, determined to kill, red with exertion and the cold.

I heard the soft movement of fur behind me and the restrained breath of a yawn, I grabbed a cup, poured some water into it from my flask and turned around. Mariette was sitting up, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes and placing her hair back to some semblance of civilisation with expert skill. Skill I don't have, which is why you wouldn't catch me dead with long hair.

"Morning, sunshine," I said, holding out the water for her to take, "Sleep well?"

Mariette looked up at me with raised eyebrows, confused why I wasn't reacting with anger or surprise as far as I could tell. She took the water offered and sipped it.

"Wandered into the wrong tent," she explained quickly, between sips. I had to restrain my sides from splitting open.

I became annoyed at her dishonesty, feeling the fire in my gut rise. If she was going to act like this, she could at least be truthful about it.

"If that's the story you want to go with," I replied with a shrug, "I don't buy it for a moment." I began grabbing my combat webbing and the assault firelance I had brought as a spare, throwing both onto me. I heard the movement behind me.

"What do you mean by that?" Mariette said, coming close enough for me to feel her body heat, "Why does this suddenly irritate you?"

'This' meaning her continuous flirting. I turned to her, finding her look up at me. Which made me more irritated, sending me gritting my teeth. She had already kissed me. It needed to stop there.

"You don't need to do it any more," I replied, "You've spilled blood with me, for me, you don't need to pretend to want to sleep with me to gain influence. You've proven yourself already."

What happened next was truly a thing of wonder. Mariette de Villars turned a deep red. I took it the wrong way. I put my hands on her shoulders and looked her dead in the eye.

"I'm serious, whatever it is you think you need to do is unnecessary," I continued, "You're one of us now." And to hell with using your body as currency, fair maiden.

Mariette hadn't hesitated for a single second to put herself in more harm's way than pretty much any of my soldiers. She had ducked and weaved through the enemy's front like a gymnast. A gymnast with knives. She had won her place. Just like her cousin had. Both of them nobles of the most impeccable breeding.

That last part is something that will be very relevant, dear reader, as I am sure those of you with a good reading of history will know.

The bright blue orbs looked back at me unblinkingly, searching my face for … God only knows what. And then she bolted out of the tent, without so much as another word, having put on her boots at some point unnoticed to me. She just became a blur and disappeared.

I sighed deeply and looked at the ceiling, the rain once again the only thing to be heard. I got the feeling that Mariette was going to be a problem. For entirely the opposite reason I had thought she would in the beginning. I rubbed what remained of sleep out of my face, feeling it helped me think about what just her malfunction was.

"Sam," said a voice.

I turned around, and found Armen standing just inside the tent. His grin missing, replaced my a dark look of disappointment and narrowed eyeslits.

"You didn't..." he said.

Indignant fire rose in my throat at his assumption.

"No!" I blurted out, "I mean, she snuck into my bed to try, but I was asleep and she just fell asleep beside me... This doesn't sound very convincing." I had been gesticulating the entire time, between waving at the flap and pointing at the furs. Didn't look very convincing either, in other words.

Armen's grin returned, my inability to get my story straight obvious proof in his mind that I was innocent. If only because the fear of losing Tam and Julie after all we had been through over rolling around with Mariette seemed overwhelming. More so than a charge of Fereldans, apparently, but that is just who I am. That gets jaded after a while.

"Sorry," he smirked, "I think women just prefer high status men."

His change in demeanour annoyed me.

"Please tell me you're here because Tam is awake?" I asked, resuming my calm.

In response, Ciara poked her head through the tent flap, her dirty-blonde hair turned a solid brown in the damp. "No, we're here because the King is awake," she said, "And he wants to see you."

I scratched my chin, thinking about that. I really didn't want to be conducting negotiations. Wasn't even sure I was allowed to. Who was responsible for what in our army beyond military affairs was either entirely vague or consisted of the maxim 'Julie Hunt is _Imperatrix Mundi_ '.Either way, there was a more pressing matter.

Let him stew a while," I said, "The wounded and the Tainted first. We're going up to Vigil's Keep."

"The Warden-Commander is here, with the King," Armen stated, almost through his teeth.

I was sorely tempted to ask how Andras had managed to get through the highly formidable guards, but she was a Grey Warden, so it was almost a foregone conclusion that she had used that. Legally or not, saying that you're a Grey Warden followed by a command to stand aside tended to work in those days.

"Don't care," I replied, "Tam first." Letting slip my real motivation. Ciara smiled warmly at that, making me feel embarrassed for even vocalising it, so I stepped out into the rain to cool myself off again.

* * *

It was a miserable ride up to the Vigil, not least because I had come to Thedas from a desert region. So I had to rely on a thick cloak to keep dry, which was far from ideal. I would have traded quite a bit for the privilege of a waterproof plastic parka. Worse, Armen and Ciara's mounts kept stopping, refusing to move for whole minutes at a time. Bellona didn't care one bit about the rain, freezing cold as it was, partially because she was wearing her barding which protected her.

We passed by the carts full of our war prizes, filled with weapons and armour separated out by the material. Obviously leather couldn't be repaired, but chainmail certainly could. We now had enough swords and armour to equip still more troops. Better yet, we had the ponies and carts to move it all. Louise had taken the Fereldan camp in the early night to loot it, finding it abandoned by the nobles but still haunted by the elven servants left behind.

Imagine their surprise when the chevaliers didn't cut them down or begin ravaging them. They would have been starting off back to Denerim by the time I was making my own, far shorter journey.

I informed the sergeant on duty at the picket line of my intentions so that the officer on duty would be aware. McNulty had the morning shift, I recall. We followed the Imperial Highway, bumping into some of Isewen's scouts on the way. They reported no Fereldans behind our blockade of the Hafter bridge, which I was grateful for. Last thing we needed was another serious battle.

Vigil's Keep's thoroughfares were empty, and not just because of the rain. The air around the place felt thick, not with the freezing humidity alone, but because of what had happened. The men and women I had cut down at the Hafter lived at the Vigil. The people left behind were their friends and family, more so the former than the latter but with enough of the latter for it to be significant for us.

If it hadn't been for the fact that we had offered peace and the King refused, as well as the good conduct of our Army for the duration, there would have been trouble. Andras had seen to it that it was known that peace was tried. In fact, she hadn't watched the battle, having rode straight back to the Vigil to inform the people that it was occurring.

We arrived at the main gate to the Keep itself, finding the entrance guarded by the small mixed firelance-mage combat unit of the Hospitallers. Barely thirty of them, twenty firelancers and ten mages. The rest were busy. That would have been enough to hold the gate against any mob, though.

They saluted as we passed, the Hospitaller banner was lowered in salute too. Their Knight-Master clearly wanting the townspeople to know who it was holding down the fort. Good, I thought, they'll be regarded as separate to the Army that way. Which was the whole point of having an order of 'knights' in the first place to protect and organise hospitals.

We entered the main hall.

The open spaces were filled with the medical tents, the cold and damp of the hillside determined to be unacceptable for treating the worst of our casualties. You could no longer see the throne or the firepit, though the glow of the fire poured through the canvass, making shadows of the injured and the healers a like. Mixed with the groans and murmurs, it was damned eerie.

I led the way through the narrow path to the firepit itself, winding through the tents and standing aside for the mages.

There we found Oghren, looking miserable and devoid of his silverite in favour of good linen, along with Dagna, looking as chirpy despite warming up her hands in her workwoman's outfit. They both looked up as we arrived. Oghren grunted, and returned his eyes to the roaring fire.

"Marquis," Dagna smiled, "Congratulations on your victory." Oghren grunted once more, following up with a swig from his aleskin. He hadn't put his money on us, obviously.

I frowned back down at her. "Thank you," I said, "Though the cost was high."

"Your healers are great," she chirped on, "I'm sure they'll save everyone. I've already witnessed three techniques for healing that I haven't seen before. And I have some ideas for improving them! I knew it was the right decision to come along."

I blew out an amused breath, glad that someone saw the silver lining. Though I was sure Leha would show up eventually and see the _silverite_ lining.

"The Circles in Ferelden aren't generally known for their innovation," Armen replied, "The Orlesian nobles pull strings to make sure the best healers are available to them." Dagna made a high pitched noise of disapproval at that.

My mind moved by the prompt to the blood magic technique I had seen Tiberius used on Julie. I wondered what Dagna would have thought had she witnessed it. And if she'd get the chance to find out at Amaranthine. But that led to thoughts about the nuptials coming ever closer, and I banished the line of inquiry from me head.

"Are any of the Grey Wardens awake yet?" I asked, "Our ones, I mean."

"No, Marquis," came the voice of Markham from behind. I turned to find him splattered with blood and looking utterly exhausted.

"Almost all of our wounded are also unconscious," the healer continued, "Easy to treat them, this way."

I nodded, seeing no fault in his logic. Though I would have liked to speak with some of them, after my main business at the Keep had concluded. "Where is Tam?" I asked.

"The Wardens have been moved to the upper floors," Markham said, "We needed the space." To say the least.

"I'll take them," Oghren said to the Hospitaller, "Best you stay down here, in case you're needed."

Markham inclined his head in agreement. Oghren waved us forward. Ciara went ahead to follow him, loosening her silverite axe from the loop of leather she hung it from. She didn't trust the guy. I gave Armen a warning glance, but he could no more control her sympathies than I could control Julie's.

The stout dwarf thumped along through the tent city, not deeming it necessary to allow orderlies to pass, and brought us upstairs. To the Grey Warden quarters. Which, as you can imagine, had the space. With a good half or more of their number dead or in our custody.

The first door in a long corridor with a dozen such doors yielded to Oghren's boot with ease, and we filed in. Inside was relatively luxurious. A large feather bed and a bookcase full of printed and hand written works (easy to know the difference from their spines alone). A small fireplace created the only light in the room, as the window was closed and the curtains drawn to keep the heat in. Some leather-covered chairs that looked well worn.

It must have been a Constable's quarters. Probably that big bastard Howe's own, I thought.

Tam was in the bed. She was laying on her back, her head turned sideways on a large pillow and her hair tied back in a single ponytail between her horns. She was dressed in a light linenweave, her clothes folded neatly at the corner of the bed and her weapons sitting on a dressing table.

Ciara bolted over to her, full of curiosity. She peered down at the sleeping Qunari for half a minute, putting her hand on Tam's arm.

"Doesn't look any more dead," Ciara said back to me with cheer, "She's a little cold though."

"Probably because the fire's almost out," said Armen. The mage grabbed a piece of chopped wood into the fireplace and set it ablaze, both feats accomplished by magic. Oghren's eyebrows rose upwards, perhaps unused to seeing mages use their talents for such trivial tasks. Or maybe the last people he saw that did so were Amell and the Witch of the Wilds.

But I wasn't in a state of mind where I could just accept Armen's explanation. It was Tam, after all.

I dragged one of the leather seats over to the bedside, shooing Ciara out of the way, before planting my ass down onto it. I watched Tam for a few minutes in complete silence, wishing Julie could have teleported to us. It felt wrong for her to be absent.

Tam's eyes moved under her eyelids. I thought that strange. Was she dreaming? She was supposed to be out entirely. I leaned over and touched her forehead, wishing I could do more to comfort her.

Her eyes shot open at once, violet irises out of focus. She sat up like a shot.

I hadn't expected that, and I recoiled so hard that I managed to flip over in the chair and bump my head on the stone floor. Almost into the fireplace, I might add, the heat from it pouring onto me. Cursing, I climbed off the fallen chair with a little help from Ciara, the room filling with the sound of Tam's heavy breathing.

My lover was clutching her neck and chest, looking around the room like it wasn't real, blinking rapidly. She gazed at the figures in the room, finding me and staring for a moment. I guess her eyesight was a little blurred, because it took a while for her to get who she was looking at.

"Sam?" she asked.

"It's me," I said, sitting down beside her on the bed. I gave her a cup of water, which she drank deeply. Not going to make a fool of myself doing that, at least, or so I thought. I'm sure I remember seeing a dark look of amusement on Oghren's face at my unfortunate reaction.

Tam drew close and slowly hugged me, her breathing finally getting under control. Her heart was beating hard, easily hard enough for me to feet at her chest and neck. She was warm too, contrary to Ciara's assertion.

"You made it," I soothed, "It's okay. How do you feel?"

"I feel... invigorated," Tam replied, in confusion, "Like I could run for days."

That was in line with what I knew about Wardens, but it was something else to hear it from her. Didn't get a chance to comment, though. She pulled me into a kiss, which lifted the weight of the battle and all the bullshit clean off my shoulders.

Of course, the unspoken part between the two of us was the other thing we both knew about Wardens. The tradeoff was a short life and fertility issues. We stared at each other, knowing that life probably wouldn't be the same as before. Tam's life as a civilian was over.

The sound of Oghren scoffing interrupted us. "Glad you got your happy ending after all," he growled, "When you killed so many good people."

I eyed him, making it perfectly clear how much danger he was in. The glowing of the tip of Armen's spear-headed staff added nicely to the effect.

"Should have stayed out of it then?" I growled back, "Get outta here, before I lose my temper."

Oghren let out a single, sarcastic laugh, and exited the room without another word or look at us.

"You fought a battle?" Tam asked, rubbing her head, "How long was I out?"

"Only a day or two," Ciara replied, "Missed all the fun."

"By which Ciara means one of the hardest fights we've ever had," Armen added with bemusement.

"I take it you won," Tam smiled.

"We don't lose often," Armen said with flick of his hand, "I'm glad to see you alive. Come on, we'll tell you all about it."

Tam looked down at her clothes and grimaced. "After I get out of these... ridiculous things," she said, holding up her arms.

"Good idea," I said, "We're meeting the king after this."

Tam nodded and stood up, slipping into her usual dutiful demeanour. And out of her temporary clothing.

"I'm starving," she informed me. I handed her a big loaf of bread, trying to avoid ogling her in the process. I failed.

* * *

Once Tam was back in her highly-revealing bodywrap and had her curved dagger on her hip, we were almost ready to go. A Warden recruit had come along and informed us that several more of the Tainted had awoken, and that they were okay. Hungry too. Evidently an expanded appetite was the first thing anyone experienced when finally awaking from whatever process the Joining puts their bodies through.

We retrieved Fritz from the stables, where the stableboys had taken good care of him, allowing us all to ride back down to our camps. Not even Tam would ride through winter rain without a cloak, so she got wrapped up in no less than two of the things before we made the return journey.

The pickets informed us that the king was growing impatient and that the Highlanders had requested my presence in the tent he was being held in. Which was the polite way of saying that they were growing tired of the man's complaints and pacing, and they'd deal with him in the old Avvar highland way soon if he didn't stop.

"This king thinks much of himself," Tam intoned with disapproval, as we walked the horses through camp.

"What king doesn't?" Armen replied back, "Hard to be king if you don't believe in yourself."

"You didn't see the battle, Tam, he has a right to be a little arrogant," I said, throwing in my two cents, "But I thought he used to be a commoner. He should have some perspective. He's a prisoner now, acting uppity in that position usually gets prisoners beaten."

"He was a commoner ten years ago," Ciara responded, "Then a Grey Warden. Then a king."

"One gave him a sense of worth beyond the common," Tam thought aloud, "The other elevated him to a position of power. No surprise that he became a tyrant."

That more or less settled the discussion.

The tent we were using for the imprisonment of the most important Fereldans had been the King's own, taken from his own camp. Red and bright yellow cloth covered the more or less waterproof canvass underneath, the Fereldan mabaris on each panel. Someone had daubed a big black X on each one of the dog insignias with paint or mud, which was running in the heavy rainfall. It was as large as anything the Free Army had, as certainly larger than my own.

Around it stood some of our Avvars, Asala and Cormac in command at the entrance. The two saluted on my approach, which I returned casually. Asala's gaze flickered to Tam in surprise, before returning to

"I hear the big cheese wants to talk to me," I said. I'd be finding out how appropriate that moniker was in no time.

"Lowlanders," Cormac said, following up by spitting into the waterlogged grass at his feet. A little too close to my own boots in fact. At least he had the good sense to look sorry for it, which was hilarious for a man as large as he was. Particularly as I was a 'lowlander' myself.

"King Alistair did request your presence, Marquis," said Asala, "We managed to shut him up by bringing him food." Tam's stomach made a loud complaint of its own, responding to the news there was food inside. Loud enough to be heard over the patter of the rain.

"Insistent son of a bitch then," I muttered, "Okay, let's get out of the wet."

Asala opened the tent flap for me, letting me pass inside.

The tent wasn't particularly full. There were maybe a dozen bedrolls laid out, and one 'master' bed clearly for use of the King. Though he wasn't the one in it. There was a single large brazier in the middle of the room, and a table hanging from the ceiling line that held the food that had been brought. Simple fare, bread and cheese. The meat and fish we had brought or caught were reserved for our soldiers. Various types of camp stools were strewn about the place.

The inhabitants of the tent were froze on my entry, aside from a healer or two who made themselves as scarce as possible.

Various nobles to the right, minding their own business. The commanders of the Ash Warriors and the Kingsguard, I recalled. Big guys, one painted up like an Avvar except in red, the other in well-stitched orange silk. La-di-dah.

The only Grey Wardens present other than the Warden-Commander were three Constables. Two of whom I had met on the field of battle. All of them wearing the padded shirts and trousers they had worn under their armour, in well dyed grey colours. Because Grey Wardens are grey.

The one I didn't know was Sigrun, a heavily tattooed dwarf with a serious death wish. Former Legionnaire of the Dead. That was about the extent of how much I got to know her. She kept quiet around me. She had been wearing fully engraved silverite plate when she had surrendered, which she had done only because of the threat to her fellow Wardens. Made me want to test it against musketry. Didn't get the chance. She looked at me with polite interest.

The first of the Warden-Constables I had 'met' was laying in the King's bed, recovering from the wound I had given her. Couldn't really see much of her except the top of her head, but the black hair and bruised face was enough to tell me it was her. She was peering over the wooden footboard of the bed at me, fatigued but not hostile. Perhaps she was too tired for hostility.

Howe of course had no such issue, and looked at me as if he were an angel and I was Satan himself. That grossly overestimated his position, and it pissed _me_ off more than a little, but I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of knowing it. So I let him glare at me from the bedside, impotent and defeated as he was. I came to the realisation that it was probably him who was demanding an audience, not the King. If he tried anything, I would have very much enjoyed shooting him in the leg. Or groin.

The Warden-Commander was sat opposite where Howe was standing, probably talking to the King before we arrived. She was in her robes, her staff propped up against the headboard of the bed next to another one.

Alistair himself was tall. Maybe an inch taller than I was. It was hard to tell. Similar build to me too, this was a warrior. Blonde-ish hair that had begun to darken in places. His face looked older than what I knew his age to be. He was pretty much the same age as I was, chronologically. A little younger. He had been the only one permitted to keep his armour, but was wearing something I was familiar with; almost a carbon copy of the comfortable but useful clothing that Teagan had worn when he met us outside the gates of Redcliffe. With the one difference of the royal crest replacing those of Redcliffe and Rainesfere on the neck.

They all took notice. All the more so when two Qunari women and two elves came in behind me. The nobles actually gasped. Seeing as they were awaiting me, I flipped down the sopping hood of my cloak and took off my helmet, as is polite.

Warden-Commander Andras ignored the others, and got off her chair to greet me.

"Marquis, I'm glad you're finally here," she said in Common, "We were just discussing our agreement, the King and I."

"Were you?" I replied wistfully, removing my cloak fully, "That's nice."

Andras looked at me with fear, eyes wider and mouth shut hard enough to be noticed. Good, I thought, they all needed to know who was in charge. Although it wasn't entirely her fault, so I still felt a little guilty about using her as the means of transmitting the news.

"I trust that our agreement is still in effect," Andras said firmly.

"It is," I replied, "Those portions of our agreement that concern Amaranthine and its surrounding lands, and the Grey Wardens, I mean." As I spoke, the King had wandered away from the bed and over to the suspended table with the food on it. Ciara's newly acquired silverite axe finally leapt from its leather loop and into her hand. The right response as far as I was concerned.

"What about peace?" Andras said, taking my left hand with both of her, considerably smaller ones, "Whatever point you wanted to prove about the superiority of your forces has been made. We can spare Ferelden any further bloodshed."

I understood what she was doing. She was begging. Clothing it in the language of a friend. The use of 'we' being the clue there. Clearly, whatever clout she may have bought with the anti-war barons from the south didn't count much for the king. Yet, I couldn't help her. I had been thinking about my position on the ride in. There were certain proprieties that had to be maintained.

"Warden-Commander, I trust you implicitly, you saved my lover and my men from the Taint," I said, with maximum sincerity, "But the issue of peace or war is no longer in my hands." The King looked on with narrowed eyes, eating some cheese. Saying nothing. He didn't need to, and he knew it.

"What do you mean?!" snapped Howe, coming forward.

"I offered you a peace," I replied, remaining perfectly calm, "You rejected it."

"Yet it is still within your power to grant it," Howe said, getting in my face, "You never wanted peace. You're here to steal our country, like any other Orlesian." Now that was just plain ridiculous. I was beginning to get what Andras had said the day before, about Howe having issues which explained why he had marched off the human Wardens to join the King's forces.

"Do I sound Orlesian?" I said, deliberately upping my mixed American accent for effect.

"You act Orlesian," came the reply, along with an accusatory finger, "You want Amaranthine to hold it as a port. For yourself, for Celene, for Gaspard, for yourself, it does not matter. Your tales of a Tevinter fleet are lies, and your offer of peace was another lie."

And with that, he had crossed the line. The idea that I was working for the Empress or the Grand-Duke was simply beyond the pale.

"Asala," I said.

The former Qunari Viddasala knew what I wanted. She grabbed Howe by the arm, so fast he could not react, and flipped her over her shoulder, using his own weight to plant him firmly on the floor of the tent. She lay her own weight across his neck with her shin, kneeling on him. Howe began to turn red, spluttering for air. I felt no pity for the man. He was clearly unbalanced. The history of his family required him to play the zealous patriot, I would wager.

"Take him outside and chain him to a post," I ordered, "Maybe a cold shower will wake him up from whatever crazy he's been inhaling deeply."

Asala gave a single nod, before getting off the man and dragging him out of the tent by the legs. An undignified way for a man who had demonstrated a complete lack of grace throughout. I had exactly zero sympathy. My damned nuts still hurt from the kick he gave me, if only from the memory than from any injury. Definitely didn't get injured. Probably would have made life a whole lot more convenient if I had been injured there, but alas... let us get away from the subject of my testicular fortitude.

"Marquis, I must object," said Andras, "That man is my second."

"No, that's a prisoner of war," I replied, "We're not going to let him die, if that's what you're worried about. Like I said, just a little cold shower to bring his temper down." Maybe then he'd get the message that he was a prisoner in the first place.

The battered and bruised Warden mage in the bed sat up straighter. "He's a good man!" she said, "You shouldn't just mistreat him because he offended you!"

I had almost forgotten she was present. "He talks to me like I'm a peasant," I replied, "Whoever you are?"

"Bethany Hawke," she replied, "And how is that any different?"

"Well Constable Hawke, I can't let him speak like that because I am _not_ a peasant," I replied, "I'm Commanding General of the Free Army. I don't really care about the personal insult. What I care about is that he disregards the honour due to the Army, to my people. He did so at his own peril. We will not tolerate being treated like the village idiots of Thedas, the ones who let ourselves be slapped and ask for another. If it takes him freezing his ass off in the winter rain for both you and he to understand that, so be it."

Human beings truly are animals. Establish dominance, and many will respect it.

"You are cruel," the Constable said.

"War makes men cruel," I said.

Warden-Constable Hawke held her tongue, though cast a venomous glare at me for good measure. It was futile to disagree further, probably because both Alistair and Andras understood my reasoning well enough. They hadn't spoken up, nor did their faces betray any anger or outrage. My logic in this wouldn't have flown on Earth, but we aren't on Earth.

"We should execute him," Tam said in Orlesian, "He is clearly without reason. He will attempt to escape and kill you."

Tempting, but a little too harsh. Which is why she said it in Orlesian. No chance that anyone other than Andras spoke it to more than a passing degree. The idea itself would have been a breach of my oaths, or at least a breach large enough to give me pause. The more time wore on, the less important I found that adhering to them strictly was.

"Let him try," I snorted back in Common, "I'll stitch him up good." I gave my firelance a pat to add emphasis, with an amused snort from Ciara to boot.

Alistair finally deemed it wise to intervene, his observations over. He came alongside Andras, putting a hand on her shoulder lightly to get her to retreat, and squared off directly across from us. He finished the small bit of cheese he had left, and examined us.

"If you wanted to convince me that you aren't the same as the chevaliers," he said, "You're doing it wrong." I detected no malice in his tone, nor any defiance at all. He said it almost half-jokingly, simply stating the fact. It was disarming in the extreme. Not a very kingly behaviour, but I don't care about that at all.

"How's that?" I asked.

"Chaining a man to a post in the rain... _like a dog_ ," he tutted, "So very Orlesian. So is invading Ferelden under false pretences, I might add. Can't blame some of us for being angry."

I didn't blame them for being angry. I blamed them for losing all intellect because of their anger.

"What false pretences?" Ciara said, "We were exiled here. By Gaspard. He is no friend to us."

Alistair paused, looking at Ciara. "Who are you?" he asked. Not in a way that suggested he did not think her his equal. That would have been expected, in fact. No, he was genuinely interested to know who she was and why she was there. Given that she was the only elf around in Dalish garb with a Dalish accent, that might have been why.

Armen answered for her. "Former vice-chancellor of Free Orlais," he said flatly, "She helped rule over more people than you do, your majesty."

The Eastern Dales was home to about one and a half million. Two and a half if you counted the Crownlands, but the only parts of that we ever controlled were Halamshiral and Gethran's Crossing. Ferelden is home to only a million or so.

Alistair looked genuinely baffled at the concept of our youngest companion holding political office. To be honest, it baffled me too. "She doesn't look like she has seen her twentieth birthday yet," he said flatly.

"I haven't," Ciara shrugged, gesticulating with her axe, "A Vice-chancellor is for PR, mostly. Lots of shaking hands. Not surprised you haven't heard of me."

The King was unperturbed by the axe movements. "PR?" Alistair asked.

"Public relations," Tam replied.

"Ahhh, I see," he said, "The letters..." Three cheers for the alphabet. Regardless of script, it was the same on both worlds. Ever a curiosity, that.

This tangent was getting on my nerves. "Her point stands," I cut in, "We did not come to Ferelden under false pretences. In fact, we would not have had to wage battle at all if it hadn't been for Teagan Guerrin."

"Bit rich for you to blame Teagan for all of this," Alistair replied, "He told us what you asked for. I wouldn't have given in to such demands either."

"Would you have refused to negotiate entirely?" I asked, "Or did Teagan leave out the part where he insulted us without even hearing what we wanted? Or is he so stupid that he doesn't understand the concept of a strong opening position?"

The man was ambassador to Orlais. He should have known better. Hence our displeasure.

"Perhaps that was unwise, but it was necessary," Alistair conceded, "He was testing you. We know your reputation, Marquis. He had to see if you would act as any Orlesian marshal would have. And you did. You didn't hesitate to attack when you didn't get your own way. You proved that we are right to distrust anything that comes out of an Orlesian noble's mouth."

That was crass hypocrisy to my ear, throat-twisting levels of it. Yet I could see the argument too. Doubly frustrating.

"Yet you want peace now?" I said back, cool as you please, "Now that you have nothing to trade in return for it? Anything we want we can take now. Your army is shattered and I could burn Denerim to the ground if I liked. Not that it would accomplish anything but creating more hatred, but I could."

"I'm trying to save the lives of my people," Alistair replied.

"I'm not threatening them," I replied, "We twice offered terms. Both times, you told us to go to hell."

"You don't understand," he continued, "I rule Ferelden jointly with Anora. As long as she is free, the realm will resist. Particularly with Fergus Cousland and Teagan Guerrin alive too. If I accept the terms of your previous offer, it can still be salvaged. Anything else looks like surrender. We can both get what we want here."

I stopped dead, rubbing the bridge of my nose to calm myself. This was going nowhere. I needed to get to the point.

"If you want peace, I can't give it to you," I said, "I was authorised to give you the offer, and to fight you if it was refused. It was refused."

There was no explicit instructions that I couldn't make the offer a second time... but I could almost imagine Julie's scowl if I had done so without extracting further concessions. Concessions that might make the difference between life and death further down the line. We had won a battle. Things were different. We had the advantage.

"Authorised by who?" Alistair asked, "You're the leader of this army, are you not?"

"Julie," said Tam.

"The Marquise de la Fayette," I added, "She is... our sovereign, I guess." The best description available for her huge unofficial power.

The King's eyes flickered between Tam and I. So he had heard that story too. I crossed my arms, trying to figure out what words to use to get him to stop. He answered before I had formulated them. "Your wife?" Alistair asked, before pausing a moment, "She is not here?"

And I thanked God she hadn't been, or else she would have been in the earthworks with me in the fiercest part of the battle.

"No," I said, "She is with the rest of the army. I'm sure you were made aware that we had split it, or else you wouldn't have attacked."

The King nodded to himself, like something had been confirmed. "We got word a few hours before. That was the only reason I allowed the attack in the first place," Alistair said, "Otherwise I would have held the bridge and the fords against you instead. So we have to wait until your wife arrives?"

"In our system of government, the military answers to the civilian authorities," Armen explained, "In fact, making separate political agreements is treason. Though I doubt our dear leader would cut off poor Sam's head for doing so in this case."

"She has other ways of punishing me," I sighed, "The Army answers to her as representative of the people's will.."

Alistair raised an eyebrow. "We could use some of that around here," he admitted, "Anora and I are always having to fight off complaints from the Bannorn nobles about us creating the freeholder militias. They don't like the Crown having an army large enough to beat them. Problem is that we need a large army to beat you Orlesians or anything else."

This move into more familiar territory was more than welcome. The King seemed to accept, at last, that he would be waiting a little longer. Besides, I wanted to talk about the battle.

"Yeah, about that," I said, "Mind if we speak about it a little?"

Alistair gestured for us to come in from the entrance area, like it was still his tent. Not seeing any reason to shatter that fantasy, I moved in, grabbing a free stool and putting it down in the very middle of the space. The others followed suit, and soon we had a little circle going that encompassed the end of the main bed. Alistair's other commanders joined it, but the King himself just leaned on the bottom of the bed, the Grey Warden on it shifting carefully to listen.

"I should have guessed you would be interested in talking about our... way of war," Alistair said, "I think Anora would scold me for indulging you, but you saw the whole bag of tricks. No harm now."

"How very kind," Armen said flatly.

"I can hardly ask for peace and be uncooperative," Alistair replied, the implied accusation of self-interest sliding off him, "Take this as my way of showing that I intend to deal fairly. That is very important in diplomacy."

Sounded like something he was quoting. Probably the Queen's own lessons. Armen needed the lesson himself, frankly. Of course, 'fair' is a foreign concept in diplomacy. I could see the argument brewing on my friend's face, so I stopped it before it erupted.

"We can't ask for anything more," I said quickly, "I have only one question. Was it you who came up with... all of that? The smoke? The mages?"

Alistair shrugged. "I can't take all the credit," he said, "Without Amell, we wouldn't have had the mages to pull it off. He's not been here for a couple of years now. Hope he's doing well. Not likely considering who he's with. Of course, only reason we had so many troops ready so quickly was the freeholder companies, and they _were_ my idea. If it was back in Loghain's day, you'd only have faced about ten thousand with no mage support. And we'd all be dead."

The we meaning Fereldans in this case.

"Well, you surprised me," I said, "And that's not an easy thing to do."

"Word of your blackpowder weapons has spread fast," Alistair continued, "Eamon thought it would only be a matter of time before they ended up being used in an invasion by Orlais. Didn't think you would win your little rebellion, or at least that you'd be able to keep your weapons' secret."

"So you came up with a way to fight us," I nodded, "That fog was a masterstroke, who's idea was it?"

Alistair smiled to himself. "Neria Surana," he said, "Our court mage, and leader of the Aequitarian fraternity in Ferelden. She came up with the fog originally to allow us to attack Orlesian-held keeps or fortified camps. During the Occupation, the last one, that was something the rebels under my father had real trouble with. Or so I'm told. It made sense to use it against you. Can't shoot what you can't see."

"But the Free Army has more than just fancy new toys," said Armen.

"Discipline," said Tam proudly, "The key to perfection in any endeavour."

The ability to speak with commanders at distance instantly also helped, I knew, but there was no indication that anyone knew about that outside of our officer cadres.

"So we learned," Alistair said, "Your troops didn't flee under magical bombardment, but Surana had expected that. You have your own mages. The fog didn't put you off either. Your artillery had capabilities we didn't know about."

"Exploding and canister shot," I nodded, "Teagan didn't see them at Redcliffe."

"And our reports about your battles in Orlais didn't mention any specifics," Alistair said, "The wildest rumours are flying around about you, you know? I see now that most of them are true." He turned his eyes beside me to Tam again, sat close as she was. With sadness, no less. Strange.

I stood up, having the answer to my question.

"My condolences on your combat losses," I said, "Having spoken to you, I deeply regret that we are enemies. I believe you to be an honest man." Not that it would help him. Seemed like the thing to say though.

Alistair rose too. "Thank you," he said, "I will... reserve judgement on you, if you don't mind." He had a great amount of self-control, contrary to his reputation from the Blight. Hard-earned, I suspect.

I smirked at his response, seeing through it. He didn't think much of me. He was just being polite about it, the circumstances dictated as much. That much we gathered from the continuing hostility of Ferelden later on, not all of which we can lay at the feet of their Queen. Fair enough. I was an invader, after all.

* * *

The next day, the rain had stopped and the clouds parted, the low winter sun filling our camp with eye-blinding light. The temperature didn't rise much though, and given the number of corpses on the fields nearby, that was a good thing. We had burned our own dead that night, after identifying who we could. I overheard some soldiers saying that the sunlight was the Maker's way of bringing their souls to the next life, and hoped they were right.

By midday, Tam and I were speaking with Andras just outside my tent, or rather Tam was speaking and I was hanging around nearby. Grey Warden secrets and protocols were the order of the day. As she knew most of that already, Andras had asked Tam if she was to be Warden-Commander. I said she was if she wanted to be. There was no question of it being my decision though. We weren't going to let the Wardens build a whole other army in whatever land we eventually settled in. It would fall under my purview.

Tam didn't decide right there and then, but as she knew most of the interesting stuff already, she agreed to hear the more boring secrets to pass on if necessary. So the Warden-Commander and she were talking about procedures for the distribution of archdemon blood between the various factions of the Wardens, which are actually quite complicated, when the noise began.

A low rumbling shout that built up to a great cheer, like a wave rushing to shore. The Warden-Commander broke off her conversation and looked around, wondering just what the hell was going on. But Tam and I had a good clue. And the anticipation made me feel drunk.

The crowd of soldiers appeared first around the double line of tents blocking our view of the camp entrance, weapons raised over their heads, eyes turned over their shoulders to watch what was happening behind them. Next, a half dozen Lancers and Guards on horseback. The escort. Leha was with them, in her Carta gear looking about her with searching eyes. Assessing potential damage rather than looking for me.

Finally, Julie came around, my sunglasses balanced on her nose, her red-brown hair flowing out from under her khaki beret, dressed in brown furs over a British Army uniform. Revas carried her at a slow trot as the crowd parted, a standard bearer directly behind carrying the Stars and Stripes.

She spotted us after a few seconds.

Revas bolted forwards through the muddy grass, ahead of the crowd and to us, dodging braziers and equipment with ease. The horse slid to a halt in front of us, neighing loudly at the exertion, before her rider dismounted swiftly. Julie padded the last few steps to us out, her eyes watering. I don't know what burned in my chest in that moment. I just felt... complete. We were back together. That was what mattered.

All three of us embraced, Julie covering our faces with kisses while squeezing us as tightly to her as she could. The cheering continued as a good portion of the Army came to crowd around us. Those on horseback moving to avoid being blocked.

"Thank the Maker," she said, releasing us only as far as arms-length, "I thought I had lost you. I could barely sleep, I rode ahead to get here as soon as possible." My fault for not sending word fast enough. I was too distracted the day before, and only sent word of what had happened when most of the day had been wasted. Julie got all the major details, better late than never. I guess the message only arrived just as the other column was setting up camp the night before.

"The Maker did not have anything to do with it," Tam said, "We live due to the efforts of mortals, whom we can thank without the need to pray."

Julie glanced at Andras, with a strange amount of nervousness, betrayed by how rapid it was. "Is this one of them?" she asked, "She's a Warden."

I waved Andras forward, and she complied. "This is Sidona Andras," I said, "Acting Warden-Commander of Ferelden and governor of the Amaranthine arling."

The elf proceeded to curtsy, lifting the hem of her robes with one hand and planting her staff in the ground with the other. The action was augmented as the Warden-Commander pulled her hood down afterwards. Revealing her ears.

Julie stared, fascinated and flattered if the small smile that broke out on her face was any evidence. This was the first Warden she had met. A hero straight out of a legend. A mage and an elf with real authority to boot.

"Julie Hunt, Marquise de la Fayette," she said, "I owe you … more than my life."

"The Marquis and I made an agreement that more than adequately compensated us, my lady," Andras replied in Orlesian, "As long as the agreement is kept." I winced. The opening barrage had been let loose. I prepared for the counterstrike I thought to be coming in return.

"It shall be," Julie promised, taking Andras by the hand, "I cannot blame you for the actions of your liege-lord." It was my turn to stare. This was extremely generous.

"There will be peace then?" Andras asked, as incredulous as I was.

"There will," said Julie, "Assuming the Landsmeet and the Queen will accept it."

"I have no doubt they will," Andras said, "The fury you unleashed on our armies will have cowed them. The nobles that swayed the King and Queen to allow the attack will now be without allies."

Julie's eyes tracked to me, curved with amusement. "Our army does fury very well," she admitted in jest, "Sam taught them it. But enough of that. As far as I'm concerned, the war is over. We shall be friends, yes?"

"I hope so, Marquise," Andras said, buoyed up.

I shook my head, simply not believing my ears. What was Julie playing at, giving away our advantage like that? But I couldn't inquire, as our troops had reached us and could overhear. And other friends began congregating.

"So, you're still alive?" said Leha, from on top of her own small courser, "Told her you would be. Trying to kill you is like trying to kill a bee, you're hard to catch and your sting hurts. And there's not a swatter in the world large enough." The novelty and threat of bees exaggerated for a woman that had spent her childhood underground.

"Glad to see you too, Leha," I replied, with a rude gesture added in for flavour, "Good news all around, we captured the enemy camp, paychests and all. Some of them at least."

Our dwarven companion-slash-quartermaster gave the dirtiest look of happiness I ever saw on someone not thinking about sex, putting her hands on her hips as if to say "Oh really?" A sliverite lining indeed. That she got to play with large piles of gold and silver is the main reason she likes me. Drink and rentboys are cheap, but it's the breeding of coins she was truly in love with. I was happy to oblige her lusts in all three regards.

"We captured a king too!" called Ciara, emerging from the crowd with Armen. She did a running jump into a hug with Julie, before being set down on her legs again. Armen got a quick embrace too, which he politely returned with a roll of the eyes at me. I gave him a rude gesture that he could shove it up his ass in return.

"You kept him out of harm's way?" Julie asked Ciara. Referring to me.

"Of course," Ciara replied, "It was harder work than I thought it would be."

"I seem to remember you saying that Sam saved your life," Armen sniffed, scratching his chin.

"I seem to remember telling you that I did the same for him," said Ciara, punching him on the arm.

The exchange had us all grinning. Well, except Andras. She was left feeling a bit like the third wheel. Or perhaps she was just bewildered that we would speak in such a way in public. Too used to dealing with nobles and their aristocratic manners.

"All did their part," Tam nodded, "Some more unexpectedly than others."

"Others who saved your lives?" Julie asked.

I coughed, somewhat sheepish about who exactly that was referring to. Given what had happened. "Yeah, Mariette de Villars," I said, "Without her, Ciara and I would have been chopped up like firewood."

The side of Julie's lips curled upwards in not quite a smile, but definitely one that told a story of what her positive thoughts of that development. Reminded me of a cat. "Why am I not surprised?" she purred, "She's ambitious. So am I."

"I've already made her a Major," I said quickly, as if that should have been enough.

"So impersonal," Julie pouted, "We can do better than that."

"I'm sure we can," I frowned, "But we have more important things to do. Like dealing with the King."

"Certainly," Julie sighed, "Assemble the high command as soon as possible, and invite him to war council." she paused and looked at Andras. "You too, Warden-Commander, unless you'd rather not?"

Andras bowed in reply. "Oh no, Marquise," she said, "I think my attendance would be beneficial." I thought so too, if only so that the generosity she had been shown could be explained in full.

"Good," said Julie, before raising her voice so the whole crowd could hear clearly, "The rest of the Army should be here by sunset. I intend that we continue our march to Amaranthine tomorrow!"

A great roar of approval went up, firelances shaken up and down overhead, a few celebratory shots fired into the air too. That set off the sergeants in their midst, clearing the avenues of the camp as quickly as they had filled up. A reasonable conclusion, I thought.

Julie hooked Tam and I by the arm and we went into our tent, to relax. A groan from Leha and a giggle from Ciara indicating to all what they knew we would be getting up to. Or what they thought they knew. They too dispersed, the Warden-Commander heading off towards the King's tent. The best possible person to deliver the news, I think.

Our glorious leader wasn't in that sort of mood, innuendo about the younger de Villars aside.

She collapsed into the furs after taking off her boots, patting for us to join her. That sounded like something we all needed. I took off my firelance and put it down beside the damaged one, and joined Tam in laying down beside.

"Things are looking good," Julie whispered, "Long may it continue."

"Why are we whispering?" I asked.

"The tent's walls aren't solid?" Tam suggested.

"No, I'm just … tired," she said, shutting her eyes. She curled up between us, facing towards me, leaning back on Tam. Tam also closed her eyes.

But there was something I wanted to ask. Had to ask.

"Were you serious with the Warden-Commander?" I whispered, "Will we make peace?"

Julie didn't answer. She was already fast asleep. I let out a single exasperated breath. She really hadn't slept well, if she could turn off the lights that fast. If she had been just trying to avoid my question, she could not have kept a straight face.

I decided a snooze was right up my alley.

* * *

The rest of the army finally showed up on schedule, and set camp below the walls of the Vigil, the tents and temporary fortifications now sprawling from the all the way to our positions on the hills overlooking the Hafter. That left plenty of time, which we spent in the way I stated earlier, in taking tally of the captured equipment and personnel, and in visiting our people up in the Keep itself. Both the wounded and the new Grey Wardens.

The latter two things put Julie in a very good mood.

The provisions and equipment we captured were very numerous indeed. Julie and Leha were practically hopping with joy at the sight of the wagonloads. Julie at the armour and weapons. Leha at the coinchests and food. They estimated that they could make another two thousand firelances if they melted down all of the silverite, and while the money we captured was less than we had ourselves, it was a welcome boost. I certainly liked the sound of two thousand more firelances.

At the Keep, Grand-Cleric Brandon and the other Chantry women helped the overstretched Hospitallers deal with the aftermath of battle. Julie made sure to speak briefly with every conscious person, inquiring about the battle if it wasn't too much trouble or asking the former Tainted how they felt. Joking with them more often than not. Reassuring those that had lost limbs that they would not be made destitute, though they were thankfully few in number thanks to Markham's efforts. Markham himself got a hug, which actually managed to fluster him. He didn't get out much, to put it mildly.

There was cheer over our victory and sadness over our losses.

However, once the army arrived, so had all of the command staff. Namely, the one missing general was back. Mike was properly annoyed at having missed the big battle, not even having to see off raiders throughout the rear column's entire journey.

We assembled in the command tent beside my own, the table again covered with the map of Ferelden.

Julie, Tam, Leha, Armen, Ciara, Mike, Soprano, McNulty, Blondie, Isewen, Velarana, Barris and Mariette.

Heroes of our fair republic. There's a painting of this meeting based on a sketch that Julie did, idealised to the point of erasing the sheer look of relief on all our faces, hanging in the National Gallery. I invite all of you to go see it, if the Gallery still exists. It makes us all look drunk. In a way, we were.

The atmosphere at this meeting was truly jovial. That our comradeship had grown that much was a testament to the reward that our great ambition had given us. The officers spoke among themselves, as some things were prepared for the meeting. Julie was reading through the document I had signed with Andras, for one. I raised my hand for quiet, and was given it.

"So here we are," I said, "The danger to us in Ferelden is pretty much at an end. We'll reach Amaranthine long before the Queen or the nobles can raise another army to stop us, and we can hold the city long enough for Tiberius to bring the fleet to get us out."

"The only danger now is if the magister doesn't hold up his end of the bargain," Tam rumbled, "Or if the Qun intercepts them." She regarded one of the two eventualities as likely.

"Then we'll hold Amaranthine," Mike said, loud as ever, "And make our own arrangements."

"Exactly," said Julie, "Our fortune has turned. Thanks to all of your efforts, and those of our soldiers. I wish I could say I had something to do with it, but I don't. Of course, there remains the question of what we do next, but it can wait until we are in Amaranthine."

"Too afraid to tempt fate?" Armen asked.

"Very much so," Julie replied, "We still have matters to resolve here, too. Velarana, De Villars and Isewen, step forward."

There was silence as those who were called obeyed right away, the others stepping back to allow their passage and edging along the table to watch. I already had an idea of Julie's intents here. Mariette drew up alongside me, following her cousin, sparing me a glance. She wasn't wearing a mask for once, and her cousin caught the look. There would probably be hell to pay for that later, I thought.

Julie addressed Velarana first, dropping into formal Orlesian with ease.

"General, you sealed our victory by capturing a king alive. If you hadn't, this war might very well have stretched on without end."

Velarana inclined her head, saying exactly zip, her face remaining impassive in an almost ostentatious display of modesty. I wondered what her game was there, not the first time I did wonder such a thing. We'd be finding out pretty soon.

"Baroness de Villars and Colonel Isewen," Julie continued, "Your swift intervention was also essential. I have heard from many of the wounded that the enemy only broke once they caught sight of you charging across the plain. You scattered our foes and captured the enemy camp."

"I am a chevalier, Your Excellency," Louise replied, using Julie's old title of address, "Scattering our foes is what we were bred to do."

"We're getting the hang of it too," Isewen added. That got laughter out of me and a couple of the others. Isewen and her Lancers were as far from noble-blooded warriors as it was possible for Orlesians to be, yet they kept up with the Guards with ease.

"I think it's clear that you three have become the heroes of the battle among the troops," Julie continued, "So when we reach Amaranthine, and we have it secured, we shall organise a triumphal march. In your honour."

The three chosen did not react. I wasn't sure if they were stunned or they thought it a bad idea, at first.

"This army, this movement, needs heroes," Julie continued, "By your actions, you've made yourselves into heroes. You deserve to be seen by the people as heroes, and I intend to make sure that they do see."

"It is a great honour, Your Excellency," said Louise.

"Though I don't think we're heroes," Isewen pitched in, "We followed orders." Selling herself way too short, to my mind.

"You did so fearlessly," I said, "Sometimes that's all it takes."

All three seemed to accept it, though Velarana still hadn't said anything. She seemed more lost in thought than paying strict attention. Multitasking. Calculating. What exactly, I had a feeling about.

Julie said a few words into Mariette's ear before we continued. I began to worry about what exactly, as the council returned to its previous arrangement of positions. But the moment passed quickly, and Mariette didn't give away the game. I reminded myself to talk to her about it, though I wouldn't get the chance for some time.

"Before we bring in the King," said Julie, "I have decided on one other measure. We will have a month and a half to wait at least for the Tevinter ships once we reach Amaranthine. I have determined that it would be the perfect time to hold an election."

Talk about a bolt out of the blue. I had just assumed she would continue until we had reached our final destination. So, apparently, had everyone else. It didn't seem in her nature to lay down power, I knew that better than anyone. She had come to the decision alone, separated from us. It must have given her some clarity over what she truly wanted, I realised. She was letting the people decide if they wanted to keep her.

The possibilities were... menacing. And I couldn't help but see Armen and Velarana lock eyes, once their surprise had subsided. Which it did faster than anyone else barring myself.

"It may be the only safe time to do so," Julie explained, "And there are many questions that need to be answered before we reach our new home. What sort of realm shall we build? I cannot simply dictate my desires, though I'm sure you all know I have strong opinions."

"No kidding," I said flatly, the amusement of all.

"So we'll have an election a month after we arrive," Julie concluded.

"Won't that be difficult?" Soprano asked, "I don't doubt that we can secure the city, but the inhabitants may see disrupting any election as a chance to seize a symbolic victory."

Julie pondered that, biting her lip for a few seconds, before turning to me. "Sam?"

"I can't guarantee perfect security in a city I've never seen before," I replied, grabbing ideas off the top of my head, "But we do have options. Everything from cordoning off an election area to expelling the entire Fereldan populace for a day."

"Let's try and avoid that last option," McNulty snorted, "Else we'll be chasing people out of every alley with bayonets for a whole week beforehand."

"That would be the last resort," I replied gravely, "In the event of armed revolt, in other words."

"I certainly hope so," said Barris, "Fereldans are proud, but they're not stupid." Debatable, I thought.

"We can do without the armed revolt," Ciara said, "Let's try and get on with them instead."

"Agreed," Julie smiled, "Now, just one more thing. Sam, can you go fetch the King and the Warden-Commander please?"

I gave a thumbs up, and went around the edge of the table to the tent entrance.

I exited out into the red of the evening sun, our luck with the weather having held out. The bustle of the camp sounding as I cleared the flaps, which always made me feel comfortable. The Royal Entourage was waiting, Alistair and Andras in front, flanked by the Kingsguard commander and Bethany Hawke respectively. Andras was very wise to leave Howe behind.

I saw that everything was in order with them, with the exception of the four Avvar Highlanders alongside them. The four Highlanders who were supposed to be standing directly in front of the tent entrance to prevent anyone from coming in without leave. In fact, everyone seemed to be looking at me with either curiosity or fear.

"Soldiers, why are you not at your posts?" I asked the soldiers coolly.

"The eagles," Alistair replied for them, pointing slightly above me, "Not sure I'd stand there myself, actually."

I craned my head over my shoulder, and found our eagles perched directly on top of the crossbeam that held up the tent canvass making up the outer entrance. The brown headed one was cleaning its feathers, the silver headed one looking at me. They gave out soft squawks to each other, or possibly to me. And there was no way in hell I was going to try and shoo them away. Their claws were _huge_ , far more so than what I believed normal.

"Ah, I see," I said, "You're reunited too now. We're really going to have to find someone who knows what your story is."

"Are you talking to the eagles?" Alistair asked flatly.

"It's a lot less mad than it seems," I replied, "The things follow me around. Have to be polite. They have claws."

"That does sound wise, I guess," said Alistair, "Once knew a witch who could turn into a raven. Liked to peck at me when we were travelling. Revenge for my witty repartee. Can only imagine what she would have done if she had those claws."

"Morrigan," I smiled, "Amell's lover. And saviour. I've heard of her … quirks." One of Tam's favourite topics when we were all drinking, in fact, was discussing the heroes of the Fifth Blight. Just because they were so unlikely, that it made for good stories.

Alistair's mouth tightened. "You know more than most," he said.

"His mistress knew Sten, Your Majesty," Andras said, "She knows many Warden secrets."

Alistair's tongue moved in his mouth, as if he was considering saying something about that.

"You're wanted inside," I said, "Shall we?"

"Lead on," Alistair conceded, with an uneasy look at the birds.

I held the tent flap open for them to pass, hoping that the eagles would not do anything as long as I was there. In the event, they spread their wings out wide just as Alistair approached, almost in salute. Stranger and stranger. The entire royal party eased past carefully, and I followed in after them.

The war council was far more stiff than when I had left, standing straighter and with narrower eyes. The Fereldans were interlopers, except for Barris of course, and they were being made to feel it. There was also a barely perceptible glow around all of them. One of the mages had cast a barrier spell. Just to be careful.

The one exception was Julie, whom had kept her lighthearted yet formal posture and speech.

"Your Majesty," she said in Common, accented as ever, "I'm glad you could join us."

"The eagles almost stopped me," Alistair replied, "But I'm here. Your prisoner."

"Not for long," Julie reassured, "Warden-Commander Andras, have you informed the King of my words to you earlier?"

"I have told him of the agreement and your words, yes," Andras confirmed, "That you shall make peace on the terms I agreed with your lord husband."

Julie picked up a document from the table, our copy of the agreement in the Latin script, the seal of the Grey Wardens on it along with my signature. She scanned it for a moment, taking in the details. My apprehensions about her generosity ballooned again.

Julie summarised the terms. "The Warden-Commander shall grant free access to Amaranthine for the Free Army and its wards, those of its soldiers whom have joined the Order shall be allowed to leave with it, and in return, the Order shall receive certain advantages and hostilities shall cease."

She put down the document again. "This seems more than fair," she said, "A pity you did not take such a generous offer before we had to smash your army, but no matter. A deal is a deal." Leha giving a single large and approving nod at the last line. She and Julie were, at heart, entrepreneurs. I approved of the not-so-veiled chiding of the Fereldans for their failure to see its benefits before.

"I'm glad you agree," Alistair said, "There has been enough bloodshed. I'm sure I can convince the Queen of its merits." In light of our shattering defeat, would have been a nice addition to that sentence. Not likely to get that sort of honesty though.

"Good, which leaves only one problem to overcome," Julie said, her smile turning wicked, "The ransoms."

And so her plan was revealed. A ultimatum for which the Fereldans were entirely unprepared. Andras turned as white as a sheet. I could imagine her fears. Never mind being an Arlessa, she might have to flee Ferelden for her life. I felt great sympathy for her, and wished to give her asylum should it come to that. If she'd accept it.

"Ransoms?" Alistair asked, "I don't understand. You just agreed to peace."

"Yes, our agreement was for peace," Julie said, picking up the document once more, "Among other things. But it says nothing here about the unconditional release of prisoners. Baroness de Villars, it is common practice to ransom noble captives, is it not?"

Blondie's skull mask swivelled towards the King. "It is," she said, "In fact, many captured Fereldan and Orlesian nobles were ransomed at the end of our … tenure in this realm. There is strong precedent."

Alistair's face soured. He clearly hadn't anticipated this possibility. If he had been noble born, he almost certainly would have.

"So you see, Your Majesty," Julie continued, "We captured you. And like _Le Coeur du Lion_ , your realm can buy you back. It must. You do not have any heirs, do you? Can the Queen rule alone, without the blood of Calenhad in her veins or by her side? Or in her belly?"

I think half the command staff recoiled from that barbed remark. The infertility of Queen Anora being assumed to be a touchy subject. Julie's opinion of hereditary rule being what it is, I wish I could have warned her off going there. But it was perhaps an assumption too far. The King didn't seem any more angry for it.

"You are enjoying this," Alistair said, "A little too much."

"I am simply claiming what is ours by right," Julie said, "As you would have if you had captured Sam."

"In any case, the Landsmeet will never pay a ransom," the King continued, crossing his large arms, "The Crown's budget is stretched, and the nobles won't pony up." Probably didn't help that we had the paychests.

Julie spread her hands on the table, unperturbed. "I know," she said, "Especially those who now see the path to the throne opening up for them. De Villars, how many houses of Ferelden share the blood of Calenhad?"

It was not Louise but Mariette who responded first. "The Couslands have a strong connection," she said, "But the royal bloodlines are shared by many. The Guerrins too have a good claim, as does the Bryland family."

"See how this obsession with bloodlines will tear your country apart?" Julie asked, "As it already has with Orlais, so many times?" Gaspard, after all, had a more direct claim to the Orlesian throne than Celene did, which was the core of their conflict.

"I always thought it strange, myself," Alistair sniffed, "It was Amell who convinced me the country needed an heir of Calenhad. That only I could have pushed the reforms needed to save the realm. He was right."

"So you agree," Julie said, "Your loss would send this country into a state of anarchy and civil war. Neither of us want that, so you must pay."

"How?" Alistair replied.

"Well, there is a noble here who can pay," Julie said, "The Warden-Commander."

Andras seemed to snap out of whatever daylight nightmare she was living in as a result of Julie's machinations, but didn't respond. Luckily, she had a Constable on hand.

"The Grey Wardens are not wealthy enough to pay a king's ransom," said Bethany Hawke, "I am the treasurer of Vigil's Keep, I can tell you that for a fact."

"I expected as much," said Julie, "But I know you have one of the most productive fiefs in the entire kingdom. Grain from the Bannorn, silverite from the Wending Wood, iron from the Storm Coast, trade via the sea... Warden-Commander, you can save Ferelden from chaos, right here and now."

Andras' colour began returning to her face, her mind working to process what had just been suggested. Sidona Andras, Saviour of the Realm. Finally stepping out of Amell's shadow.

Julie was getting better at pushing the right buttons. The provocation from before was mere foreplay, designed to put the fear of the Maker up the King and Wardens. Now, she offered the path to salvation. She had learned from her mistakes in Orlais, I hoped.

"So I, the Arlessa of Amaranthine, shall pay the king's ransom herself?" Andras stated slowly, "I think that's a fine idea."

"Aww, I won't be chopped to little bits because the Landsmeet is broke?" Alistair quipped, "And the only price I have to pay is to make someone an Arlessa who should have been anyway? Very convenient."

"I'm sure the Landsmeet will be greatly embarrassed," Louise said, "To have been saved such humiliation and discord by an Orlesian elf mage." Ever on the pulse of the nobility, Louise de Villars.

"Not the first humiliation of that sort they've suffered," Alistair replied, "They'll get over it or arses will sting." That didn't sound like a threat he intended the Queen to carry out. Very good.

"Leha," Julie said, ignoring him. Our friend produced another piece of paper, and Julie slid it over the table to Warden-Constable Hawke. "These are the materials we require. In foodstuffs we will take only surplus intended for sale overseas. For everything else, we need all of what is available."

Hawke and Andras looked over the list, conferring with each other quietly.

"Gaspard and Celene are going to be livid," the Warden-Commander chuckled, "Most of our grain goes to the Empress' granaries. Most of our metal goes to the Grand-Duke's smiths. They've been preparing for war for some years now, and they'll need every scrap for their little war."

"With the greatest respect," I started, "Fuck Gaspard and Celene, and their needs. All the better to starve them of the means to murder." And thus give us the means, should we need it.

"What's this about ships?" the Constable asked, "They're not ours to give away."

"No, but you are the law here," Julie replied, "We don't want their owners dragging you in. It's window dressing, I know, but we'd like you to acknowledge the seizure of Orlesian or Qunari vessels as spoils of war. This way, no one can claim Ferelden had a choice in the matter."

I sensed the hand of Leha at work. Squeezing the Fereldans for all they were reasonably worth. No doubt moderated by Julie's wish to not destroy another realm.

"That shouldn't be a problem," Alistair replied, looking over Hawke's shoulder at the list, "What do you need all of this for? Trade?"

"Firelances, cannon, printing presses," Julie mused aloud, "Weapons. The Tevinter fleet is scheduled to arrive on First Day. That leaves us with time, time we can use to prepare."

"Prepare for what?" Constable Hawke asked.

"What else do you use weapons and ships for?" Tam replied, "War."

Velarana cleared her throat, the first noise I had heard from her since I promoted her. "Hopefully, not a war of our choosing," she said sternly.

"No war is of our choosing," said Julie, not quite getting Velarana's objection, "But we fight nonetheless."

"Say I agree to this," Andras said, leaving the list to Hawke, "What happens exactly?"

"We go to Amaranthine," Julie replied, "Once I'm satisfied it is secure, we release the King. I thought we already agreed that you don't have a choice?"

"The details matter," said Alistair, "The Landsmeet wouldn't accept me being held captive for your entire stay either. Just in case you decide to make the stay permanent."

"Well, you have nothing to worry about there," said Julie, "Two days march to the city, maybe another day to secure it. They won't have time to fret for long. You'll be back in Denerim by week's end."

* * *

Leha produced another two documents, one in Latin script and another in dwarven script, laying out the full terms of the ransom. Andras signed and sealed it, this time as Arlessa of Amaranthine by royal proclamation. Alistair was legally empowered to fill empty fiefdoms in wartime, so he used that power and added his own seal, in the same grey wax. The Landsmeet could undo the appointment, in theory, once peace returned. But the King seemed to think it unlikely. He had too many supporters and would owe too much to Andras to allow it.

I was happy for the Warden-Commander. She was genuine.

The march to Amaranthine itself began the next morning, and passed by without any resistance or interruption. The countryside around was deserted, the freeholders having fled before the advance of our army. I ordered that no harm should come to their property, and set watches to that effect. A couple of civilians tried to sneak off to loot nearby homes, but they got caught by our sentries. Mike had them flogged.

The second night saw us encamped just outside the city, investing it for siege as a precaution. Not very wholeheartedly, we had the King and its liege lord with us, but still. Once that was complete, there was only one other thing to do.

I ordered Armen and the Libertarians to form a circle outside of camp, and together, they chanted a spell. A gigantic column of blue light shot upwards from them into the sky, our signal to Fisher's fleet that we had won, were in position to take the city in the morning and expected him to enter via the port at the same time. Fisher had already acted, in fact, but we didn't know that. The return signal beam shot up from Marable's Isolationist mages to the north, indicating that the fleet had not run into any trouble they couldn't handle.

Amaranthine was as good as ours.

* * *

 _AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know I said that the occupation of Amaranthine was to begin, but I thought of too many things that needed to happen before we got there. Which resulted in this. As always, there'll be rolling edits for errors, etc._

 _Quite a bit happened in this chapter. Mariette slipping further into her role, politicking back and forth, and the reunion of our Companions._

 _At this point, I think it's probably impossible to avoid the harem label, with Aurelia coming around the corner and Mariette's deal, even though neither has actually happened on that front as of yet. I'm prepared for the howls of indignation about it, and I've been giving that problem(?) some thought. It occurs to me that an actual set of people encountering these circumstances would find many pitfalls. Ones that haven't necessarily manifested themselves yet here, due to the three people so far being involved in all directions. Trouble in paradise, is the phrase that comes to mind._

 _The maps I mentioned last time are ready, I just need to decide which platform to host them is better. Deviantart or Imgur? Perhaps readers can give me their opinion on that. I'd like to put up bigger versions of my story thumbnails, heraldry for various people, etc as well._

 _As for the story as a whole, it's surpassed 450 followers and is creeping up on 400 favourites, closing in on Battlefield 2183 as my most successful story (by those measures at least). That's amazing, ladies and gents. Cheers for your support._

 _ **5 Coloured Walker:** Here's more. _

_I must check if I actually fixed your nitpick from last time now._

 _ **Noblescar:** Hope this fulfilled your Sam-Alistair needs. I tried to portray Alistair properly, not so much as the absolute ruler of Ferelden that Celene might be to Orlais, hardened but not irreconcilable to people who played Origins. I just can't imagine him losing his shit. Keep calm and carry on. _

_I wonder what you meant about a change in plans though. Do tell._

 _ **Thepkrmgc:** Again, hope this fulfilled your expectations for the negotiations._

 _ **Katkiller-V:** Well, I couldn't see any way for the Fereldans to triumph without it seeming like Deus Ex Machina. The Fereldan military is not examined in any great detail before the last chapter, and in the end it is still a feudal army facing a professional one with radio comms and firearms. I think they did as well as they possibly could have in the circumstances, albeit that them attacking was a strategic error._

 _Besides, I don't feel the need to smash my characters at every available opportunity haha! Only when it's most interesting to me to do so._

 _ **Halo is bad ass:** If you mean Hawke, yes. But the elder Hawke in this is a she. And we're going to meet her very soon._

 _ **Francisco914:** The hopes of Earth weren't won without bloodshed, maybe it's too early to be giving up hope. Glad you enjoyed the story so far either way._

 _ **Viper0300:** Wish I could release more, but I appreciate the encouragement._

 _ **Zx:** Found the story by chance how exactly? I'm always interested to hear how people came to it. Hope this satisfied some of your appetite for more._


	47. Chapter 47: Amaranthine

**Chapter Forty-Seven: Amaranthine**

Sheltered from the winter storms of the Waking Sea by the large islands off its coast, the City of Amaranthine started off as a primitive fishing village as so many coastal cities do. Yet even then, its advantage was known.

It was from Amaranthine that the armies of Andraste began their assault on Tevinter, the Imperium having been divided and weakened by the First Blight. The village was the most productive for fishing in the entire kingdom, particularly in winter, due to the storms driving fish into the calmer waters off-shore.

However, even long into the Calenhad period as the Fereldans call it, Amaranthine was nothing more than a village. Totally eclipsed by Denerim, Gwaren and Highever in all respects. All that changed with the Orlesian invasion.

Ferelden, having finally developed its hugely fertile lands for export agriculture after centuries of mere subsistence, found itself greatly desirable to His Radiance the Emperor. The Orlesians invaded twice in order to gain control of said lands. They found it a simple task on the second try. The invasion came not via the passes in the Frostbacks but by sea. The Fereldans did not have a navy, nor the network of coastal fortresses they have now. Orlais landed its armies at Amaranthine, and swept over the Fereldan plains until only the hills and swamps of the west and south were free from its rule.

Which brings us to why Amaranthine is so important today. Denerim, although the capital, can hardly be considered an all-year port. The mouth of the estuary it sits on opens directly onto the Amaranthine Ocean (an ironic name if ever there was one). The storms batter its walls directly. It is also the birthplace both of Andraste and the nascent Fereldan nation. The Orlesians found it entirely unsuitable for use as a capital or a port, with the added complaint that it is ugly as sin. An assessment I agree with.

So the Emperor chose Amaranthine as the site of a new capital, built in the Orlesian style. The village grew to a city almost overnight, employing huge numbers of native Fereldans to aid in the construction, starting with the sewers and ending with the walls. Soon afterwards, the economic might of the city raised its head, as the Orlesians began exporting grain from the Bannorn through it. Other goods soon followed. Ore, wool, leather, pelts, herbs, livestock. Amaranthine was, and is thanks largely to our own efforts, by far the richest city in Ferelden.

This is why the Howes joining the Rebellion against Orlais was such a big deal, and probably why Rendon Howe found his rewards for doing so to be meagre at best.

By the time we had arrived, the city had been through it to some extent. Old Rendon had sold almost all of the original elven population into slavery in Tevinter during the Fifth Blight. The City had been assaulted by the darkspawn barely a year later, barely holding out under Warden-Commander Andras' leadership.

Amell and Andras both began the healing process. The elves of Denerim were welcomed by Amell after an attempted pogrom over their bann marrying a human woman. Andras had fostered production and trade, assuring the place of the Grey Wardens in Ferelden. With the agreement of Fergus Cousland, a Howe even sat as its bann as vassal to Andras. What the people might consider the 'natural order' had been restored.

It was to that city we had arrived in November of 9:39.

* * *

I examined the walls of Amaranthine, darkened in shadow as the orange sun began its journey, overwhelmed by a sense of nostalgia. They were just like those in Hearth in design, a solid high wall protected by roundtowers. Albeit bigger by ten feet at least. Below them were the cottages and huts of the labourers, one and two floor buildings sheltering from the gusting wind. No smoke came out of any of those chimneys. For the obvious reason.

No doubt someone had ran north from the Vigil shouting to every homestead _"The chevaliers are coming! The chevaliers are coming!"_

As I observed, I was being observed, which made me itchy. Between the crenellations, there were men peering down, too far for their faces to be read but clearly expecting a fight. The aforementioned chevaliers led by Louise were all drawn up in battle array just outside of longbow range, with my good self at their head with my companions. And directly behind us, Mike and her pike/crossbow tercios.

Awaiting good king Alistair and the freshly minted Arlessa of Amaranthine to emerge from the gates.

"They're scared," I frowned, "Might put up a fight out of fear."

"No good," Ciara mused, "If someone showed up and told me soldiers had to sleep in my home, I would want to fight too." That very complaint was mentioned in my own homeland's declaration of independence, no less.

"They would be stupid to," Julie replied, "They should consider how the soldiers would feel being targeted. And how soldiers react to such resistance." Words spoken from experience, I thought. Experience she hadn't relayed to Tam or I.

"Their king is well loved," Louise said, "I doubt they shall defy his will. In fact, we should not have let the King enter. He could simply take command of the city and attempt to hold out against us."

That would have been foolish in the extreme. "Which is why we have _Anne d'Anzio_ ," I replied, "That gatehouse won't stand up to her." Anzio Annie being the name of our large siege artillery piece, the only one we had made by that point.

"This is Ferelden," Leha warned, "They defy whoever they damn please. Their king, our army, it doesn't matter. We'll do what we must, as we always have."

"We would be wise to show restraint," said Tam, sniffling, "In all things."

"You're all getting ahead of yourselves," Armen agreed, "First, they have to open the gate or indicate that they will not do so."

" _If_ they open the gate," Louise said, "That too may be a trap."

We all homed in on the thing in question, staring at it, almost willing it to rise up. It refused, staying firmly down, as it had for a half hour already. I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. There wasn't any tension to rub away, just boredom. I wanted Alistair to get on with whatever way he was going to swing things.

Lucky us that a piece of entertainment was forthcoming.

Louise walked her horse over to me, cutting in between Ciara and I. Close enough for me to see her eyes through the skull-mask's eyes. I backed off an inch in the saddle. "Marquis, may I have a word with you?" she asked.

"You already have," I said, inviting her to continue with a gesture. She didn't seem to get the message until I turned my head to her.

"I wish to apologise," the chevalier continued, "For the behaviour of my cousin. Had I known she would..." That's as far as she got before she was interrupted by the unsuppressed snickering of the Dalish huntress behind her, bubbling out without shame. Blondie's mask swivelled like a tank turret towards Ciara, and with about the same level of deadly intent.

"Oh, don't even dream I'm afraid of you," Ciara chuckled, wagging a finger, "You're just a big fluffy dog under all that armour. Worrying about your cousin like she's your sister is the proof."

The dear Baroness de Villars spluttered an unintelligible objection, before gathering herself. "I'm trying to speak to the Marquis," Louise said to her, "About something of great import."

I looked to Julie and Tam, to see their reaction. Julie was smirking, highly amused by it all. Tam was impassive, either not caring or succeeding in projecting the same. No trouble ahead then. I breathed out with relief.

"You're worried about Mariette," I said, turning back to Louise. She paused, to consider her words.

"I know her behaviour is not what you view as normal," the chevalier explained, "I am worried that she is making herself unwelcome." And thus putting herself in danger. The circumstances of Mariette's arrival into our hands weighed heavily on Louise's shoulders

"Mariette is not unwelcome..." I started, before I was sure exactly how to finish, "She saved my life, but..."

"She just has bad timing," Julie said, bringing me to my own conclusion, "We are not adverse to taking whatever pleasure that life gives us. There is too much suffering in the world to do anything else."

"So you are not furious with her?" said Louise, "For presuming to..."

"I am Orlesian, just as you are," Julie smiled, "I understand. Sam is beginning to, as for Tam..."

"I don't care," Tam cut in, "Provided I do not disapprove of the person in question."

Which ruled out most of the female population, incidentally. Just not enough of it. In truth, Tam is probably the only one who would have tolerated it if I had taken up whoring as a leisure activity, she separated sex from emotional connection the most out of all of us. Qunari upbringing will do that to a person. Yet she was possessive when it came to emotional availability. For the same reason.

"And someone who saves Sam's life, or my life, isn't someone Tam could disapprove of," Julie continued, "Unless they were horrible."

"Mariette is not horrible," Tam agreed, "Merely annoying."

An amused breath escaped me. "Just don't tell her we said all this," I said, "We have enough on our plate without adding to her confidence about trying to bed us."

"You're getting married in two months," Julie said, "Maybe you have too many women in your life." Whose fault is that. I wouldn't have been there if you didn't want to surround yourself with women too, my dear Julie.

I had long thought along the same lines though. Armen and McNulty were my only refuge from this reality, and it was a rare occasion when we got together without female company coming with. I considered adding Barris to the group, but holy rollers didn't strike me as being particularly fun. Markham was a grouch, so he was off the table. Couldn't drink with Shovels or some of the other lower ranked officers I had a passing acquaintance with either, they were subordinates. Chain of command considerations there.

"Yes, I'm doomed," I said flatly, "Doomed to a life of being surrounded by women."

"It will end in tears," Leha said, equally as toneless as I had been, "I'm sure of it." Which is why she took her pleasures through rentboys.

Grand-Cleric Brandon, who never missed an opportunity to lecture me on the subject, would have agreed. With the idea that it would end in tears, not the rentboys. As far as I know. She would lecture me, and not Julie or Tam, because they couldn't get themselves knocked up. Such lectures being boring and formulaic, I've mostly omitted them from this biography. Mostly.

"Don't knock it until you've tried it," I smiled back.

Whatever the reaction I would have gotten from that, the portcullis beyond began rising with the sound of chains, and the reinforced city gates began creaking open too soon afterwards, the noise carried by the wind. The retinue that rode out of the outer buildings was small, but larger than what rode in. The King, the Warden-Commander, a noble lady and seven armed retainers. Knights, probably. They came directly to us.

Julie nudged Revas forward to bring herself ahead of the main body of troops a little, and waited for them.

The King and Warden-Commander brought their guest forward, a woman in her thirties with neck length black hair, a familiar face with a grave look on it, dressed in dark colours of the sort nobles wear when they're not trying to flaunt their wealth. I knew immediately who this was, the likeness was uncanny minus the masculinity.

"Marquise, Marquis, this is Delilah Howe," Andras said, "Bann of the City of Amaranthine."

The other Howe. Well, the other adult one.

Delilah inclined her head in greeting, before speaking. "Marquise, before I allow entry of your army, I demand guarantees for the safety of my vassals and their property."

"You're not in any position to demand anything," I said, eyeing the King, "What sort of guarantees?"

"She wants to know if they'll all be raped and robbed, my love," Julie replied, "Perhaps I should explain how we plan for this to work? Bann Delilah, you can decide afterwards."

Between a gentle occupation and an artillery barrage, there isn't too much wiggle room. The Bann was playing a dangerous game, probably trying to save her own skin once we left. If the occupation was harsh and she let it happen without trying to get guarantees, she could face revolt. Although I did not get to know her well, perhaps it was out of genuine concern. Regardless, I supposed we could indulge this feigned tantrum, if it kept her people happy.

"That is acceptable," Delilah said, crossing her hands over the front of her saddle.

"Sam here will be military governor," Julie began, waving her hand to me, "Marquis de la Fayette, you know him as."

Delilah examined me for a moment with her grey eyes, before they returned to Julie.

"He will govern the city in our name for as long as we are here," Julie continued, "The rest of us have more pressing matters to attend to."

This was a role I accepted with great reluctance. Julie and the other heads needed to work on political matters, weapons, or the logistics of keeping the Army fed and healthy while packed in a city. I was the one with counterinsurgency and urban fighting experience. Plus I was considered a famously soft touch by Thedosian standards, which was what was needed here. Not that it didn't wound my pride a little to hear that.

"As for rape and robbery, the general orders of the Free Army prohibit both. The punishment for rape is death by firing squad. The punishment for robbery is flogging and a fine. We shall however be taxing your merchants during our stay. We'll disarm your troops. If you want to consider that robbery, that's your problem."

Julie awaited the response impatiently, her mouth tugged slightly wider than usual being the tell. Delilah was taking her time.

"It is not a problem," she said, "But I wonder what my role will be."

"You will have none," Julie replied sternly, "You will go to your country estate or to Denerim with the King. The Marquis will administer Amaranthine, the city keep will become headquarters for our operations here. Any property you leave behind will not be damaged or appropriated. This is as much for your protection as it is ours. If something goes wrong, you would be powerless to stop it or punish us."

"Prudence demands you go," Tam added, "So that when we leave, your reputation remains intact."

That seemed to satisfy the bann. Her face tugged Perhaps her reputation and ability to rule after we had left was what she had been worried about. I personally think it more likely that the King relayed the tale of me leaving her brother out in the rain, and took that as a measure of my morality. I suppose it was, to some extent. Karmic retribution is somewhat of a hobby of mine.

Nathaniel Howe had advocated engaging in an unnecessary battle in which thousands died. The least he deserved was a cold shower.

"The city is yours, Marquise," Delilah said, "I pray to the Maker you shall be merciful."

Julie called to Louise and I to move. "Lead the Marquis to your Keep," she said, as we came level, "The Army will begin entering the city in three hours. You must announce our terms."

"I understand," said Delilah. She turned her horse about, and joined Louise and I at the head of the Guard. Five hundred chevaliers and squires, superbly mounted on barded horses, wearing cuirasses and masked helmets, sabres resting in scabbards. Exactly the intimidating sight we wanted to project. Showing off the stick, before we gave out carrots. In aid of that, I delayed giving the order to move out for a moment, as I myself put on the skull half-mask that Louise had given me at Honnleath.

"Have to look the part," I said to Delilah, whom stared through the entire process of taking off my helmet to put on the mask, "Move out!"

I spurred Bellona forwards, and she broke into a fast trot. The low rumble behind me told the tale of the Guard having done the same. Louise and Delilah matched my pace with the ease of noblewomen-born, except with a great deal more grace. I was never going to be a cavalry man, I rode my horse with more effort that necessary. Not that anyone would notice that. Bellona was the gentlest of mounts.

We rode down the main thoroughfare, not caring for the possibility of ambush, and straight through the open gate, slowing to a walk once I was through.

First thing I noticed was the lack of guards. There were maybe two dozen, and they were dressed in the same silverite I had seen at the Hafter. This was fewer than one would have expected. I craned my head around to look up at the walls to my left. Most were up there, bows in hand. I guessed Delilah riding alongside us was the signal that there wasn't to be any fighting. With the possibility of open combat gone, I could consider the city for more unconventional conflict.

Amaranthine shares its general principles of urban planning with Halamshiral, Val Royeaux and our own fair cities. Long, wide avenues acting as arteries, threaded with smaller streets, dividing the city into quarters and blocks filled with red-tile roofed multi-floor buildings. The maintenance on all the routes wasn't exactly up to standard, but still, this was good news. It meant we could control the avenues with our cavalry, and move troops about very quickly. The buildings were stone too, so the fire hazard was minimal.

But when it comes to cities, you need local help to dive into knowing them well enough to fight in, if you want to avoid spending time and lives doing it otherwise.

"Lady Howe," I called, "I don't suppose you could give us the tour?"

"I can, Marquis," said Andras from the side, appearing from behind, "Lady Howe has only a few hours to prepare for your Army, remember?"

A fair point. "That works," I said, before turning to Delilah, "You may go ahead, my lady."

Bann Howe took off at a gallop inside a second, seemingly eager to be out of my presence. Or she worried that preparations for the quartering of our troops might not be completed in time unless she hurried. Could have been both. Either way, she wasn't the person who had the real power.

"Warden-Commander, those are your troops?" I said, flicking my head back at the silverite-clad troops on the walls and by the gate.

"Yes," said Andras, "The Bann is forbidden to possess more than fifty troops, due to her father's actions. All the city guards are under my command. I ordered almost all of them to join the Royal Army when word of your arrival came, as was my duty. I left the garrison to keep order."

"Order them to stack their arms," I said, "Now."

Andras looked at me like I had just insulted her, but there was nothing to do but bow to the inevitable. "If that's what you want," she said, "But it may provoke looting."

"It is what I want," I said impatiently, "I doubt anyone will start looting just yet, not with an army due to come in within hours. Louise, delegate a lieutenant to oversee the collection of weapons."

"Yes, Marquis," the chevalier replied, before waving over one of her seconds and explaining what was expected of them.

Between that and Andras explaining to her own sergeants what was going to happen, fifteen minutes passed before the Fereldans began placing their swords along a wall and piling up their armour. Their former owners seemed sad rather than pissed, which was a middling state of affairs. Dejected men don't rebel, but can get angry easily, and angry men do rebel.

Once I was sure that the whole force of the garrison would appear to follow orders, I gave another one of my own. I spoke into my mouthpiece. "This is Hunt," I said, "Mike, send a regiment to secure the south gate. The garrison is surrendering their arms."

"Yes, my lord," Mike replied over the comms.

Satisfied that the general would get the job done, I turned back to the Warden-Commander. "Lead on," I said, "Let's see what we're dealing with."

Andras nodded, and pointed to the right of the avenue, to the sections of housing that were locked up tight, windows barred and blocked. "That's the Chantry quarter. Most of the well-to-do people live there, where they don't have to interact with anyone coming off the boats." Because sailors were far too … salty to show up regularly to sing the Chant.

"Marquis, if I may be so bold," Louise said, "I advise we quarter as many of our elves there as possible."

I raised an eyebrow. The chevalier was the last person I would have expected to make that recommendation. House the elves in the fancy part of town?

"What, to cure the locals of their prejudice?" I asked, "Seems a bit stupid."

"On the contrary, that may be the only place the elves are safe," Louise said, "The poor humans compete with elves for work. The merchants do not, and are more educated. The Templars and the local families will not tolerate unrest there, they will help us keep order."

"What about the alienage?" I asked, "Shouldn't we consider that first?"

The Warden-Commander laughed heartily. "Have you not seen an alienage, Marquis?" Andras asked, seeming superior all of a sudden.

"I lived in the Dales," I growled back, "There are more elves there than humans. Halamshiral is one big Alienage." That wasn't strictly true. I was getting defensive on my credentials as a champion of equal opportunity there. I had the wrong end of the stick.

"I will have to show you, then," said Andras, taking my answer to mean 'no', "You will see why quartering troops in the Alienage is simply not possible soon enough."

She turned in her saddle and pointed to the left. "That's the Artisan Quarter," she continued, "Most of the human working population lives there too. Those that don't live just outside the walls, as you saw. Weaving, spinning, dyes, it all happens there. Some of the finest smiths in the world live here too, working iron, steel and silverite. Somewhat of a rivalry between them and your own people, actually. Eastern Dalish workmanship is ranked up there with Amaranthine work."

There did seem to be an excess of chimneys in that part of the city. But there seemed to be more wood in the construction of the buildings there. I was surprised it wasn't down by the sea.

"Isn't it a little far from the water?" I asked, "Smithing needs water. So does putting out fires. Most metalworking happens outside of city walls."

"The forges are located in all-stone buildings," said Andras, "Amell made a rule that they had to clear an area of fifteen feet between them too. Caused a stir with that, but the blacksmiths simply pooled their resources and bought buildings. Big hero ended up compensating them for it too. Hasn't been a serious fire in the city since, excepting a couple of bakeries now and then."

"Let's make sure that doesn't change," Louise said, "What sources of water are there?"

"There are wells everywhere," Andras shrugged, "The smiths don't like using seawater for their work. I don't know why, but they say it's important."

All of this struck me as very detailed knowledge. "You seem to know the city well," I remarked, "Spend much time here? I thought you would be up at Vigil's Keep, most of the time."

"More than half my time is spent here," Andras replied, "Aside from my duty as an Arlessa, or potential one as it was, Warden-Commanders are not supposed to go off fighting, if they can help it. Dear Duncan couldn't of course, but he didn't have the resources that I do here. Warden-Commanders are supposed to prepare the realms they are sent to for wars of annihilation against more horrible monsters than mere men."

Louise scoffed. "All men are monsters. Take their food, put a weapon in their hand and a woman in front of them," she said, "See what happens. The darkspawn in the Deep Roads died easily enough."

Andras rolled her eyes under her hood, not in Louise's light of sight. "They wouldn't have died easily if an archdemon had been awake," she said, "Soldiers always think the darkspawn are bested by mortal means. Until they're facing a corrupted dragon god directing their puppets with malign and ancient intelligence. Then, they die, or come crawling to us for aid."

"Things have changed," Louise replied, "The darkspawn will never master the weapons we are beginning to. What is an archdemon without its army? A single dragon. The Nevarrans hunted dragons nearly to extinction in teams as small as twelve, and they did not possess blackpowder weapons."

"Archdemons can turn bountiful lands into lifeless desert," Andras replied, "A dragon that cause miscarriages and stillbirths, summon forth foul mists to poison water and air, bringing death to men, beasts and crops. Your blackpowder can fight armies, but it cannot fight famines and droughts."

Louise shook her head in disagreement, ready to pounce on that. She believed, as more or less all chevaliers believe, that her kind were the greatest soldiers on the face of Thedas. She said so often.

I felt the need to interrupt the argument. I respected both of them. I didn't need them locking horns on who was the better soldier.

"We have other weapons against lack of water and food," I said, "But we're getting off point. You know much about this city. I presume you'll share that knowledge?"

"Of course, Marquis," Andras said, mollified for the moment, "Shall we continue the tour?"

The column of chevaliers moved along the avenue, horseshoes clapping the stone, a section taking up positions to either side of us so that we wouldn't the first ones hit if anyone decided to take a shot at us. Here and there, you spotted movement in the upper floors, a face peering out of a window just enough to see us. The people were utterly terrified.

That put butterflies in my stomach. On the one hand, it seemed to me like a natural reaction in an occupied city. On the other, the city had been surrendered peacefully and that usually meant lenient treatment. Were they afraid of a sack? Or were they afraid of who was in the army? Mages, Avvars, elves... A man from another world with seemingly divine protection against magic.

We passed to the main crossroad of the city, dominated by the main guardhouse, a building that looked remarkably like the prison I had managed to burn to the ground in Halamshiral in my first few days, albeit in miniature. It was here I also began to hear the soft sighing of the sea in the distance, and smell the salt over the 'earthy' scent of the city. Something I'd grow accustomed to.

Andras stopped the advance in the middle of the crossroads. The action sent the chevaliers into a hurry, spreading out rapidly into a protective circle around us. There still wasn't a soul on the streets, though I could have sworn I heard murmurs. The Warden-Commander pointed off to the left first, to the quarter in front of a large castle.

"That's the Market district," she said, "If you want to buy something in Ferelden, chances are you'll find someone hawking it there. The main market square is in the middle of it, the buildings around it are shops, taverns, inns and counting houses. Beyond is Anora's Watch, the new castle and seat of Bann Howe. The Queen found the vulnerability of the city unacceptable after the darkspawn attacked. She reluctantly commissioned the construction, using part of the existing city wall so it has access to the city, the outside and the docks"

The castle did seem more 'Fereldan' in design than what else we had seen so far. Less elegant, more rough-hewn. It occupied the corner of the city by the sea. Overlooking the docklands, no doubt. They were the place I wanted to see, partially because it was where most of the civilians would likely have to be stationed for the duration, and partially because Fisher and his fleet were waiting for us. Andras however had other plans.

Instead of continuing the ride down the main thoroughfare or explaining what was to the right of it, she rode in that direction. We followed, after resuming our previous column formation with some difficulty.

The Warden-Commander was waiting for us a block away, at a more narrow avenue that ran parallel to the central one. The buildings' upper floors were built to overhang the street too, as if the owners were trying to grab every last scrap of available space, without interfering with traffic. Not that you'd want to get a cart down there either way, with supports for balconies punctuating the whole length of it. Couldn't make a cavalry charge there either for the same reason, coupled with the low clearance.

It was here we finally saw some people too. Mostly young women gawking, of all races, but accompanied by men I certainly wouldn't want to face _sans feu-lance_. I knew a red light district when I saw one. The name hardly got rid of that impression.

"Doxy Row," said Andras with a frown, before switching to Orlesian, "Being the only major port in Ferelden, Amaranthine attracts the sex trade like flies on shit. Lots of men coming and going. Sailors on the low end, traders on the high end. Pilgrims too, funnily enough. Some work willingly, some not. Those that aren't willing never admit it."

Shaking my head, I wondered what the Warden-Commander was playing at. I didn't understand why Andras was showing me this, at the time.

Did she expect me to do something about it? Or was she warning me that the presence of my forces was likely to cause misery in this particular part of town, if I wasn't careful? Buying women wasn't something I did myself, I found it morally objectionable to put it mildly. Although maybe that was because I hadn't ever needed to.

"There has to be a five or six blocks," I said, "They're all brothels?"

"Well, the Crown and Lion is at the very end," Andras conceded, "Large inn, no whoring allowed in there. But other than that, yes, all brothels. It's the only street in the city where they're allowed to operate. One avenue, only two entrances at the top and bottom. There are usually guards at either end." Guards whom were missing at present due to the war.

"Makes me miss Hearth," I said, "Can't say I approve of all this, we didn't have brothels." Though it did have prostitutes, of course. I wasn't even close to being _that_ naïve.

"Hearth did have brothels, my lord," Louise corrected, "You do not know the story?"

I blinked, as if the woman had been speaking gibberish. I couldn't place anywhere as being a red light district in my adopted home town, and I had been to every part of it.

"What story?" I asked, "There were brothels in Hearth?"

"Of course, Marquis," Louise said, "There were. Until you bankrupted every pimp in the town when you recruited all the … working women." She was being careful to avoid calling our soldiers whores.

"I what?"

"From how General Moreau tells the story," the chevalier continued, referring to Soprano, "...the Lady Marquise went to every brothel in the town and offered better pay. Did the same in other towns, cleared out their brothels too. That is how the General came to your service."

"Soprano was a prostitute?" I asked flatly, "I thought she was a gang leader, all those tattoos."

"She was," Louise said, with obvious disapproval, "A gang leader of whores, and entirely unashamed of it. I was quite surprised. A literate whore is a rare thing." Couldn't help herself saying it there. She was as liberal as chevaliers come, but that had obvious limits. Lucky that Soprano was ruthless, with no compunctions about killing people looking to do her harm, same as Louise. Style was the main difference between them. They respected each other for that, at least.

Of course, the backstory I had never pried deeply into and had been afraid to ask about explained Soprano's character to a T.

The news was a revelation.

Further inquiries I made later even revealed somewhat of a cycle to the whole process.

The Army recruited all the prostitutes in Hearth, but its presence drew in more from elsewhere, many of whom signed up themselves later. I even talked to two girls whom had been camp followers on the Sahrnia campaign and had signed on as crossbowers in Mike's tercios for the Halamshiral campaign. By that point, the gender balance was so even and the discipline on the matter non-existent, soon word got around that there wasn't much money in whoring for the Free Army. Our soldiers took care of their own needs for the most part.

"I had no idea," I said, "I thought that Des Arbes had just rounded up anyone without land, and dumped them on me."

Louise's mask tilted sideways slightly. "The Baron would have put out a proclamation," she said, "Asking for those without land whom wanted work to come at the appointed time, in addition to the vassals. This is how things are usually done when we wish to repopulate a neglected fief. It would have been no difficult thing for the Lady Marquise to go to the women of the street and inform them that good pay was forthcoming."

Especially as I had repeatedly said beforehand that I wasn't going to treat my vassals like serfs or tenants, but rather more like employees. Within the bounds of good military sense, of course.

"I don't suppose you could do the same here?" Andras asked, "Recruit away the women? Give me an excuse to shut down the whole street?"

"Why?" Louise asked, "There are brothels in every town and city in Thedas. The Chantry's attempts to shut them down have always failed."

"In some places, the workers run the brothels," Andras said, "In others, the most disgusting men ever to breath do. Amaranthine is one of those places. I don't wish to stop the trade, I wish to starve the men who run it of coin to pay their thugs for long enough to make a difference."

I frowned, doubtful that would have worked. The pimps would have found other sources of women. Kidnapped them from farms and fishing villages, more likely than not, if they couldn't get the Alienage's women. Although perhaps Andras was counting on that.

"You're the Arlessa," I said, "Can't you do anything now?"

Andras shook her head. "The owners have no direct connection that I can prove," she replied, "Even with the King's blessing, my position as Arlessa is precarious. I could kill or arrest those I know to be responsible. My opponents in the Landsmeet may use that as an excuse to remove me, or charge me with treason."

Without a doubt, I thought. But this led me down another line of thought, one that I couldn't shake off. It all seemed like it wasn't my problem, until I realised that it was and Andras knew that.

"Which is why you're showing it to us," I said, "You know that if there will be organised resistance, the brothel owners are the only people with the resources to carry it. No doubt they have weapons tucked away, in case the day ever came that you wanted to be rid of them. And by bringing us here, you've already stoked those same men's fears."

A wry smile spread over Andras' face, unhidden by her hood. "You are an intelligent man, Marquis," she said, "I cannot deny my motivations."

"Was assuring your place as an Arlessa not favour enough?" Louise asked.

"No point having the title if you don't have the power too," the Warden-Commander replied, "Grey Wardens are not supposed to have titles in the first place. To many, that makes us illegitimate, even without being an Orlesian elf mage. Delilah cannot enact harsh justice either, not after her traitor father took that too far and killed almost all the Couslands."

"So you decided you would play on our emotions," Louise continued, "To rid yourself of this problem."

Andras looked at the chevalier with narrow eyes and a wide smile, unable to contain her amusement."It's another test," she said, "You can easily ignore this, but the values you claim drive your Army and your people should prevent you from doing so. I read your pamphlets. If you are the vaunted liberators you claim to be, you won't ignore it."

"We can't ignore it anyway," I said, "Military necessity dictates we disarm anyone in there."

"Pity you disarmed my troops then," Andras said, stretching her arms over her head, "We might have been able to help."

"We don't need your help to fight," I growled, "We will demand all information you have on these pimps."

"You'll get it," Andras said, "In the mean time, I'll show you the second half of the problem."

The Grey Warden's appropriately grey horse broke into a trot once more, continuing away from the main crossroads as before. As we moved, more and more shutters on upper floors seemed to be opening. People seemed to be realising we weren't going to burn the place down, and wanted a look. Still, it set my teeth on edge. Crossbows or Kalashnikovs, any one of the windows would have been a good place to take a shot from.

Andras led us to the junction with the next block, which opened up into a space equal in size to that of the one we had left behind to take that route in the first place. You might have taken it for just another market square, which it was with one particular difference. Another set of gates dominated the edge of the place, tall windowless buildings forming walls to either side of it, stretching off until they met the real walls of the city. It was clear that the gates were not as well built as those that led into the city, but they were still more than enough for its obvious purpose; to keep angry mobs away.

There was only one place this could be.

"The Alienage," I said, looking at the gate, "It's locked up."

"The... residents did that themselves," Andras said, "The city guard usually controls the gatehouse, but they felt that was a waste of manpower. In light of the threat to the city."

"And you can't get them to open it?" I asked, "We can't leave a part of the city outside of our control."

"I am sure that can be negotiated," Andras said, "But I would assign one of your elven generals to the task, if I were you. The one who speaks the best Common."

Which meant Soprano. Velarana had the education, but she was a mage.

"Why don't you negotiate on our behalf, Warden-Commander?" Louise asked, "You are an elf."

"I'm painfully aware of that, Lady de Villars," Andras said slowly, "But my job is to keep the peace after you leave, and I can't do that if I make a deal with the Alienage for you."

"Why's that?" I asked.

"The Alienage and the brothel owners have a dispute," she replied, "The brothel owners feel that their elven girls are their serfs, not merely their workers. The girls' relatives in the Alienage feel differently. There has been fighting."

If it wasn't for the mask over it, I would have slapped myself in the face. Great. We had just strong-armed our way into jurisdiction over a gang war.

"If I'm understanding you correctly, you have no authority to help the Alienage?" I asked, "Despite bodies being dropped?"

Andras took down her hood, revealing her ears. "My sympathies are obvious," she said, pointing to the long tips, "I kill the brothel owners, their relatives go to Denerim to seek justice. That's not a political fight I can win."

"So you want us to kill them instead?" Louise mused.

"I doubt you will have any trouble finding cause," Andras shrugged, flipping her hood back up, "Prostitution is hardly the only vice these gentlemen have their fingers in. Thieving, extortion, gambling. Your people are going to come across them sooner or later."

All the more so due to one particular fact. "Yeah, I get that," I said, "Probably doesn't help that we've been paying our soldiers for the past two months and they've had nothing to spend it on."

In fact, soldiers' pay was our only expense during the entire march, and Leha had budgeted for a full year's worth of campaigning, but also of manufacturing and payment for administrators. We were still campaigning, but we weren't spending anything on pushing paper or buying raw materials. As a result, our balance sheet would have been very healthy even without the paychests we had captured or the treasure we had seized at Halamshiral.

"I'm sure the tavern owners will be happy to hear it," Andras said, "But so will the alley-banns."

"Counter-insurgency," I muttered aloud, "Never thought I'd be back stamping out that kind of fire again."

My irritation must have been evident in my tone. "I'm sure General Moreau will enjoy bringing order to the situation," Louise soothed, "Assign the Avvars to the job too, if you wish to spare our own forces the burden." The Baronness being among Orlais' more famed Avvar-fighters, she would not consider the mountain tribesmen as a part of our movement for some time yet.

Of Soprano's enthusiasm for the task however, I could be certain. In fact, I already predicted a serious problem developing if I didn't set the Rangers loose to hunt down the 'alley-banns' as Andras had dubbed them. If we didn't get all of them in one swoop, we could almost certainly count on retaliation. Between Soprano's officers and the Alienage, it would take a miracle to stop them from mutinying.

As if to emphasize the point, something whistled past my head, sending me leaning away in the saddle, almost falling off Bellona's back in surprise. It was followed by a clatter on the pavement below, wooden splintering and a sharp metallic grinding. An arrow had missed my head by inches. The chevaliers' horses, again drawn about in a circle around us, neighed and stomped, sidestepping, sensing their riders' nerves. Sabres were drawn.

"Maker preserve me!" Andras shouted out in irritation, before switching to Common, "Shianni, that better not have been you!"

The Warden-Commander spurred her horse forwards, whipping her staff off her back and into her hand. I called for the chevaliers to hold, just in time to stop them pursuing her. She crossed towards the Alienage gates, her head raised, looking up at the buildings to either side.

On the roof of the left side were three or four elves with shortbows, which were almost certainly illegal in the hands of elves. Clearly the imminent predicted sack of the city was more fearsome than the threat of being executed for possession of a deadly weapon. City elves weren't even allowed kitchen knives of a size larger than their palm.

There seemed to be a terse exchange of words, a red-headed woman on the roof gesticulating widely, pointing at us and waving her arms about. Andras, to her credit, did nothing but raise her hand and turn it about occasionally.

"Looks like we can expect trouble from the city elves," Louise said, as if that were the natural state of affairs. I couldn't deny that it looked that way, though.

"We'll have to do something about that," I replied, "Or we'll be stacking bodies daily."

"Not the legacy you wish," Louise nodded, "We'll think of something, my lord. Even chevaliers have other means of winning compliance."

I grimaced under my mask. "Hostage taking is forbidden, Colonel," I said, "As is retaliatory attacks on the civilian populace."

"Understood, my lord," said Louse, "My apologies if I seem ... stubborn, my lord. We were taught a different mode of war." The ravage and pillage mode.

"It's alright," I sighed, "I've made allowances for that."

Andras rode back as I finished speaking, a scowl on her face. "It seems one of the young rogues decided to have a shot, Marquis," she said, "I've smoothed it over with the _hahren_. She will punish him appropriately."

"It didn't sound like you were smoothing it over," Louise mused.

The Warden-Commander shot a poisonous look at the chevalier, her staff glowing. "Shianni is not an agreeable person," Andras replied, "But when you are kidnapped from your own wedding by a noble and raped, then driven out of the city you called home, you tend to lose any natural agreeableness."

Louise remained silent, not even deeming to look at Andras in response. She was well aware of the behaviour of many of her fellow nobles, with regard to elven women. And she was not proud of it.

"This … _hahren_ ," I said, "I presume she is what you alluded to when it came to quartering troops in the Alienage?"

"She's not the main barrier, Marquis," Andras replied, waving at the Alienage itself, "There is simply no space. Every single floor of those buildings houses a family. Before I came, many only had a large room. The buildings are also poorly maintained, not out of lack of care but out of lack of resources."

I cringed. "Guess quartering anyone is out of the question then," I said, "I presume the only reason things are so bad is because you did not actually possess the title of Arlessa before?"

Andras gave a single nod. "That I might help my own kind was the reason so many nobles disagreed with my taking the title," she said, "Even with Delilah's support, even with the support of all the other banns in the arling."

"Now that you are the Arlessa," Louise said, "What will you do to help?" By the hand on her hip and the deeper tone of her voice, I could tell she was doubtful anything could be done. Not permanently. Ironically, this was an expression of her confidence in our own revolutionary principles; most half-measures don't work. They can be and are undone. There are exceptions. But not many.

Andras had no way of knowing that, of course.

"That depends on you," she said, "And whether or not you do decide to help."

I bit the inside of my cheek, sure that there wasn't anything we could do that would help. Not permanently, anyway. I shared Louise's opinion on the matter. The fact that the red light district lay right beside the optimum space for expanding the Alienage wasn't lost on me. They certainly couldn't do so into the Chantry quarter, the other adjacent quarter. But even if we were provoked into clearing the brothels out, and even if the Alienage was expanded that way, it wouldn't help anything in the end. Not without addressing the root cause.

"I'll have to talk to my officers," I replied, "See what they think about the threats you've brought to light."

"You cannot ask for more," Louise added harshly, "We did not come to Amaranthine to carry your water for you."

I held up my hand to quiet her, and express my disapproval of the outburst, but clearly Louise had had enough of the presumption of the Warden-Commander that we would be improving Amaranthine's state of affairs during our stay. That was no reason to be rude to our involuntary host.

"Colonel, secure the main crossroads," I ordered sharply, "Detach a platoon for my escort."

Blondie had the good sense to know not to second guess me when I was pissed off. She waved a lieutenant over, and gave the orders in a similarly sharp, clear tone. While the lieutenant drew off to organise the escort and his superior did the same to lead the rest of the column back the way we had come, I went to Andras.

"Sorry about that," I said quietly, "Baroness de Villars is... set in her ways."

"She's a chevalier," Andras replied, "That you can get her to work with elves at all is a surprise."

At the time, I simply thought of that as a general comment on the superiority of Orlesian nobles. Little did I know that there was a more specific and sinister reason for her remark.

Her eyes tracked the chevaliers canter off towards the centre of the city once more for a minute.

"I'll take you to the docks," the Warden-Commander said finally, "Something interesting already happened there."

* * *

The docklands were huge. Half as large as the city itself, sprawling northwards from the walls to the water itself. Warehouses, granary silos, carpentry shops, _corderies_ and shipwrights, the entire space was filled with low wooden buildings, heavily varnished and roofed with dark grey slate. The roads were wide, to accommodate the carts required to take goods to and from the ships. I could see the tops of ship masts in the distance.

The city walls extended outwards to the water, enclosing all approaches except by sea. All very interesting evidence of Ferelden's actual wealth, but less interesting than the groups of well built men in furs hanging around.

They were longshoremen, stevedores. Tattoos, muscle, scowls, hands that looked swollen with years of hard labour. You would have had to been an idiot to mistake them for anything else. The humans and elves. Both equally strong in build, which is no mean feat for the elves. They eyed us as we passed. All of us in general, the chevaliers still with their sabres drawn from when they had done so within the city, Andras and myself in particular.

Yet the Warden-Commander said nothing, did not warn of the potential threat. I inquired.

"Don't slaughter anyone and the dockers won't be a problem," Andras said, "Half of them aren't even Fereldan-born. Those that have that honour are elf-blooded."

"Elf-blooded?" I asked, "Like Julie?"

Andras stopped her horse with a rapid tug, and looked back at me with raised eyebrow. It was the first time she was hearing that particular fact. She must have thought it politic to address the issue at hand, however. "Where do you think these men go for entertainment?" she asked, "And who do you think does the whoring work in human cities? Alienage girls, mostly."

A circle of life, so to speak. Men working the docks, themselves often of foreign extraction, get the elven whores pregnant. The children are shunned as being both racially mixed and fathered by foreigners. Which forced them to work on the docks or in the brothels themselves, having no other route to a respectable living standard.

Ferelden was in some ways a more racist place for its greater freedoms. No one cared that Julie was elf-blooded. First because she was a peasant, and what Orlesian noble cared about the bloodlines of peasants? Second because she 'married' a noble, not an uncommon thing for a successful businesswoman, and wielded political power to the point of being an anomaly of history. Whereas it's possible she may not have even become a blacksmith in Ferelden, depending on the mood of the mob wherever she might have tried to practice.

"And it's not like you've got contraceptives," I nodded, "Guess the dock workers aren't well regarded."

"They're looked down on, yes," Andras said, "Which is why they've been of great help to me."

"Along with the whores?" I asked.

Andras shook her head. "They're too afraid," she replied, "Most of them." As people held on short leashes are, more often than not.

We continued the ride, finally clearing the buildings some minutes later. A brisk sea air drove through us, making me glad for my furs and sending my eyes watering. I had to take off my mask and put on my plastic goggles, which finally allowed me to see.

The bay of Amaranthine unfolded before me, the islands beyond clearly visible at dark shapes breaching the horizon. The water was a black-blue, calm with the occasional white spray where the wind from the east caught its surface. It did not churn, and its waves were small, lapping at the stone of the dock and the wood of the piers without any ferocity. At anchor on the water were three dozen ships, of a startling variety of designs.

I searched for Fisher's fleet, which would be easily recognised by the Stars and Stripes. Instead of finding our colours flying on one of the ships we had captured on Lake Calenhad, I found them atop the mast of a huge three masted vessel, one of three identical ones. I soon recognised the smaller ships around them as ours, to my utter bafflement.

"Looks like Fisher went and found himself some upgrades," I thought aloud, "But how the hell did he pull that off?"

"Oh, the ships?" Andras said, "There was a report of Orlesian ships trying to make port. The harbour master refused them, due to your invasion, but they apparently had word of the civil war in Orlais itself and refused to move off. Wanted to trade spices, linen, cotton and silk from the north for grain. The usual trade, in fact. Another report came in soon afterwards; mutiny. The ships then forced their way closer to shore, and made a magical display to ward off any attempt to repulse them."

Not that the Fereldans had a navy to repulse anyone with. The news that Marable's Isolationists had actually threatened someone to defend their fellows probably would have made the presence of such a navy irrelevant anyway.

The mutinying crews must have been Jaderites, I thought. They were the most able sailors in Orlais. Practically the entirety of the Orlesian merchant marine was recruited there. No doubt when Fisher had seen the ships and the colours of Orlais on them, he had followed them into the bay and got in contact with the crews, whom probably had been out of the loop until then. Orlesian merchant vessels range as far north as Par Vollen. That's a long way from Jader.

"Good thing we need ships," I said. We were still unsure if Tiberius could collect enough vessels to transport everything. And we had no intention of leaving behind a single person, animal, cart or piece of equipment. "Julie will be pleased."

"She is," said a voice from behind. It was the woman herself on Revas, Tam by her side on Fritz, both of them wearing goggles too. They were escorted by Isewen's lancers, all of whom looked worse for wear in the high winds, but stomaching it as best they could in light of the stevedores looking on. Which reminded me of why the hell Julie and Tam hadn't come along in the first place.

"You were supposed to wait outside," I said, "Until I was sure this wasn't a trap."

"The price you pay for not calling on the radio," said Tam, touching me on the cheek, before looking at the ships, "I think Fisher may need a promotion."

"If he'll accept one," I said, "He still isn't under my command, technically." He was pretty cooperative, despite not having any commission.

"He acquired more ships," Tam said, "He cannot complain about commanding them."

"The more ships the better regardless," Julie shrugged, "Warden-Commander, know if there are any other Orlesian ships we can steal?"

I laughed at her instinct for thieving the property of Her Radiance, which was ever active. To an absurd extent, as no doubt some readers can ascertain from her actions. She faked a pout, as if my laugh insulted her honour slightly. I waved the chevaliers with me forwards, along the docks, leaving her to her joke. It was time to reunite the last part of the family with the whole. Fisher and Marable deserved a big sloppy kiss each for their work as far as I was concerned.

But once they had been given their kisses, the ships were secondary. Within hours, we would be filling up the city with troops and refugees. To the brim. We had work on land to do first.

* * *

 _AUTHOR'S NOTE: And so the Free Army finally enters Amaranthine._

 _Once again, this part of the story ran longer than I thought it would, and so it became its own chapter. Louise got some airtime, something I felt was required after Mariette's place in the last one. Amaranthine the City as I understand it is also introduced, and I feel like I've done a pretty good job in painting it. Loosely based on both the layout of Orlesian cities (of which Amaranthine is one in terms of design) and that seen in Dragon Age Origins (which has its natural limitations due to game/storyline separation etc)._

 _In other news, I finally got deviantart working, under this same nickname. There you can find maps of the battles of Sahrnia and the Hafter, with other battles like Lydes, Vindargent, and Honnleath to come. There's also a higher res version of the cover image of this story, as well as recruitment posters from the Battlefield 2183 stories to be found._

 _ **Thepkrmgc:** I was a tad worried I hadn't got Alistair right, cheers. _

_**Transcendant:** I've indeed thought about what titles and system the republic is going to have. The position of High Chancellor will remain, but it won't be quite the same thing as it was back in Hearth. As for the system, it will be decided in Amaranthine._

 _ **Katkiller-V:** Thanks as always for the review._

 _ **5 Coloured Walker:** I laughed out loud when I thought of that little twist, startling someone in the Tim Hortons I was in at the time. It was just so... like her. Thanks!_

 _ **Twinbuster2:** Inquisition is still a year away, though I'm tempted to move the timetable up a bit. Not very though. There's still lots of canon territory I can mess with in between. Varric's interrogation by Cassandra as the basis for DA2 happens in Ostwick near the end of 9:40, for example._

 _ **Guest:** I share some of that sentiment._

 _ **Viper0300:** Really? The FFnet notice system is really buggy for some reason. Nothing I can do about that, just glad you checked anyway!_


	48. Chapter 48: Parley

**Chapter Forty-Eight: Parley**

The problem with cities is their complexity.

Reliable sight is blocked except at the very closest ranges or if battle occurs on the road arteries. So are other senses, sound being blocked or distorted, dogs less able to track by smell. These things can also be said of the most dense of forests, but what is unique to cities is that battle also takes place in a truly three dimensional way.

Fighting from rooftops, through the buildings, along streets and even underground in basements, sewers and tunnels. Worse, soldiers can fight their opponents on other levels, often to devastating effect. An ambush from above, or charges set below. Add to this the possibility of building collapse and rapidly spreading fires, and a city is the deadliest possible environment in a modern conflict.

Yet it is also the place where soldiers must have the most restraint, because a city is not only a battlefield but both home and workplace, to people who can't afford to lose either in the vast majority of cases. And concentration of people also means concentration of politics. The combat would not only be for streets, alleys and buildings, but for hearts and minds.

Amaranthine was no different.

The facts would prove Warden-Commander Sidona Andras to be a woman of her word, but even without her warnings, it would have been clear to me that the possibility of resistance needed to be crushed. There were parts of the city we simply could not garrison. The Alienage Quarter including the brothel district simply had too many people already. Certain parts of the Artisan Quarter were too dedicated to the process of manufacture to make good liveable residencies, even temporarily. The Outer district beyond the walls was unsuitable. Which meant our presence would be reduced in those places.

This was unacceptable. Where we were absent, others would assert their authority. Resistance sheltered from our view would grow.

I had seen just that happen on Earth. In Iraq, in Afghanistan. I wasn't about to let it happen to us.

* * *

The first infantry column of the Free Army marched into Amaranthine proper through the south gate to the tune of _Waltzing Matilda_ , the 3rd Rifles, weapons shouldered and bayonets fixed, their flag flapping hard in the wind. Behind them, the rest were waiting, the camp outside broken up.

I watched from the side in the company of Andras and Bann Howe, protected by some of Isewen's lancers.

The officer of the regiment greeted me with a salute, as I had summoned him, and requested orders. I assigned the the 3rd to the Artisan district, Andras provided a guide from the city guard and Lady Howe handed off a letter bearing her seal. Off the 3rd went, the guide reluctantly leading the officer and the entirety of the regiment behind him. They were to find space to sleep, secure a headquarters in the largest smithy and a perimeter around it, and use Lady Howe's seal if anyone objected to the point of riot. If that didn't work, non-lethal force was authorised.

For the moment, I didn't see the point in shooting people. There would be plenty of that later.

The rest came in the same manner. A unit or group of refugees escorted by a unit would enter. Their officer would report to me. I would give them their assigned place, according to our need or the best fit for the destination.

All the civilian refugees, wagons and horses, for instance, went to the docklands to occupy the warehouses. Tents to be set up inside them. It was the only place in the city we could secure separate to the rest. Despite the stevedores, it was by far the safest place for that reason. It also lacked the tangled mess of streets, meaning that any resistance from the docks could be crushed and our troops moved about with ease.

By contrast, I sent the crack 10th Pike Regiment to the sector of the Merchant Quarter just across the main avenue from Doxy Row. Veterans of Sahrnia, Lydes, Vindargent and the Hafter, equipped with full Templar-designed plate armour, the largest men outside of the Grenadiers. In the sector of the Chantry Quarter also facing the brothel district, I placed the 11th Skirmisher Regiment. The all-female crossbow unit that had fought at the Hafter. As mentioned before, no small number of them were former whores.

That boxed in the pimps on two sides, with the other two being the city wall and the Alienage itself. I almost wanted the criminals to try something, the 10th and 11th would've gladly tear them to pieces alone. Criminals aren't that brave however, even if they are that stupid.

It took most of the rest of the day to move the Army inside like this, but it was the only practical way to do it. By the time the sun began hanging low, the people of Amaranthine had ceased to predict a sack, and stood by the roadside watching with more curiosity than fear. Under the watchful eyes of Louise's chevaliers and Isewen's Lancers, whom patrolled the main routes regularly.

Once all the regular units had come through, it left only the rearguard. The Peacekeepers.

The possibility of the army being attacked from outside as we entered was minimal, but not zero, so I had left our best to last.

The Templars and Hospitallers went to the Chantry, with our wounded. There was no better place for a hospital. Grand-Cleric Brandon went off with her escort of Templars in good spirits, having given the Warden-Commander and Lady Howe a perfunctory greeting. Markham reported that several of our wounded had died in the night as a result of their injuries.

The mages came next. I assigned them to the docklands. I had no way of predicting how the Fereldans would react to having mages quartered in their homes. Amell might have been a national hero, their Arlessa might have been a mage too, but that was no means of predicting opinion on the matter. Same with the Highlanders. There were Avvars in the low mountains of the coastlands, albeit more akin to bandits than proper tribes by this era, so Amund's people weren't going to mix well with the locals in large doses.

The artillery was assigned to Anora's Watch, at least until I could get the city mapped out properly for deployment of the cannon to defend the key installations.

Finally, the Rangers and Grenadiers rode in together, ahead of the King's retinue. The latter halted in the middle of 'Gate Square' as it was called, surrounded by mounted firelancers on all sides.

McNulty and Soprano both approached us on horseback, round helmets on their heads.

"Marquis," McNulty said as he saluted, "I am glad to report that we are the last. The entire Free Army is now within Amaranthine."

A formal occasion to be marked as much.

"Excellent," I said, saluting back, "General, you are to take your Grenadiers to Anora's Watch, escorting His Majesty, Lady Howe and the other prisoners to the Marquise. At the double."

McNulty saluted again, backed his horse off and rode to the troops nearby Alistair, relaying the orders both to them and to the King's retinue. Lady Howe said her goodbyes to Andras, and nothing to me, and joined the King. A minute later, they all set off at a fast trot down the road, a platoon of chevaliers falling in behind. I noted Andras' eyes following the column as it left, a frown on her face.

"Don't worry," I said to her, "We'll release him as promised."

"Oh, that's not what I'm worried about," Andras said, not clarifying further.

Not wanting to delve into that topic on the street and with a more important task ahead of us, I said nothing more about it and turned to Soprano, who was waiting intently, tattooed face directed at me.

"General, did you receive my message?" I asked.

"I did, my lord," she replied.

"Can you do what I ask?" I said.

"I believe I can," Soprano said, clutching the reins of her horse a little more tightly, "Though I can't say the other side will stick to the plan." She didn't appreciate the responsibility falling on her head alone.

"A risk we're all going to have to take," Andras said flatly, "Though you'll reduce the likelihood of treachery on the Alienage's part if you do that what I have suggested already." Meaning to heed her warnings.

"We'll get to that," I said, "In the meantime... General, the Rangers shall follow my banner."

"Yes, sir!"

I gave my regards to the company defending the gate, and nudged Bellona. She took that mean I wanted her to move off at a decent gallop, and complied. It surprised me as much as it did the Lancers following, but I held on for dear life with my legs and kept her in the middle of the road. Startled civilians watched us pass, the standard-bearer behind no doubt giving them the first good look at an UN flag they ever saw. The sound of the Rangers matching my speed was thunderous, and it sounded a little like I was being chased by a storm.

One that followed my commands, no less.

Bellona eased off as we came to the main crossroads, no doubt due to the cheval-de-frise that had been set up to serve as checkpoint barriers. The wooden spiked-obstacles we had originally constructed on the Hafter had been dragged aside already, to allow the passage of the Grenadiers, whose backs I could still see riding through the other side.

McNulty was being far more careful as he moved through the city, and I reminded myself to give him a lecture later about acting too cautiously. The psychology of occupation cannot allow wilful displays of weakness or worry. By comparison, the sight of a thousand or so mounted firelancers riding down the avenue at high speed like we owned the place was much more suitable.

I held up my hand to call a halt. The Lancers had little choice, being arranged directly behind me. The Rangers drew up to either side, Soprano looking flushed with effort. She wasn't a natural horse rider either, having only learned to do so as recently as I had. We all came to a stop in the middle of the crossroads, having made a grand impression on the locals.

"Rangers, dismount combat teams and form marching column," I ordered, before turning to the sergeant in charge of my detail, "Lancers, direct the horseboys to the warehouses on the docks where the horses are going to be kept. I'll be outside the Alienage when you've finished with that."

"Rangers!" Soprano called, "Dismount combat teams!"

The lieutenants and sergeants repeated the orders, the latter drawing out every syllable in the manner I had originally taught to Mike. The troops swung their legs off their horses and got onto their feet. They handed the reins to the youngest soldiers in their platoons, whom acted as teamsters. The Lancers consulted with the master of horses for the Rangers, a thin but tall sergeant-major by the name of Sable, before beginning the march towards the docks.

The horses trotted away, leaving the combat teams and ourselves, still mounted.

"Marching formations!" Soprano said loudly, "By the fours, four abreast!"

Again, her commands were repeated, sending the troops moving quickly. The companies immediately formed up into four columns, four soldiers wide. Those in the rear moved to do the same down the western avenue as they had run out of space in the crossroads itself. Their firelances were hoisted from position slung over chests onto shoulders, ready to bring into hand if required.

The lines formed were picture perfect. The troops awaited orders quietly, the fur tucked under their round helmets flapping in the strong wind.

The Rangers and the Grenadiers were the only regiments capable of such precision of course, though the other firelance regiments were getting close. Which was why Soprano and McNulty, their commanders, only ever commanded a few thousand firelancers. They were capable of much more due to both their weapons and discipline. Whereas Mike commanded as many as twenty thousand at a time, despite holding the same rank. But her pike and crossbow troops simply weren't as flexible, weren't as capable of independent initiative.

I found myself astounded suddenly, as Soprano rode down the space left in the middle, inspecting her troops. Here was a woman who had been a gangbanger and a prostitute, reviled and looked down upon. Now she was a general in command of perhaps the deadliest single collection of non-magical beings on Thedas, with the respect of her people for the most part. It reminded me much of how I felt about Julie and her own meteoric rise, once upon a time. Whatever you might say about the effects of Earth ideas, Soprano had seized every opportunity they brought.

As I was stirring the thought in my head, Andras finally rejoined me.

"Did you have to make that little charge?" the Warden-Commander said, only barely raised her tone to make it a question.

"Yes," I replied, hiding the fact that it had been an accident. More or less.

Andras scoffed, not with hostility but mild amusement. "Could have broken your neck," she said, "It's plain as day to me that you are no chevalier."

I gave her a tilt of my head and a wink. "Infantry, through and through," I said, "Cavalry guys tend to be small guys who like concussions." That's what you get for hanging around in a cramped metal box with a large cannon right beside your head.

Andras raised an eyebrow, not having any clue what I meant. How could she? She hadn't seen a _panzer_ in her life, and the peculiarities of their use were a mystery to her. Yet my answer explained exactly why I wasn't a chevalier. My world didn't use horses for shock combat any longer.

Soprano rode back through the ranks. "Regiment ready, my lord," she reported, "Orders?"

I turned to Andras, with a wave towards the Alienage. "Lead on," I said.

The Warden-Commander bowed at the hip in the saddle, without any sarcastic undertone as far as I could tell, and pulled her horse around until it faced east. She whistled once, and the horse walked away in that direction. I waved the columns to begin marching, and together, we led them onwards at a slow march, so we wouldn't look like we were going to attack anyone.

The Warden-Commander stopped occasionally to chat to locals, perhaps some of her local contacts in the brothel district, which we passed soon after starting.

"I like her," I said to Soprano, "I don't know why."

"She has seen things we can only dream of," Soprano replied immediately, "Delved into the very heart of the Deep Roads. Grey Wardens don't rise to become commanders by sitting on their arses.."

I gave a single laugh, unable to find that statement anything other than funny. I had seen the Fade. Once from the air, once in a dream. Makes underground tunnels pale by comparison. Soprano seemed reminded of that fact by my laughter, and rolled her eyes.

"I forget sometimes your origin, my lord," she said, "Grey Wardens must seem boring to you."

"I wouldn't go that far," I smirked, "There's one particular Grey Warden I'm very interested in."

It was Soprano's turn to have a chuckle, which bubbled out of her in resonant tones. "It is a good thing Lady Tam has become a Warden," she said, "She needs all the stamina she can get, living with the Marquise. Maybe you will consider the Joining yourself, my lord? Sometimes you too just disappear at night. It happens often enough that I'm afraid you might die of exhaustion one day."

I laughed loud at that, earning a glance from the Warden-Commander ahead. "Tam could always handle Julie," I said, "Even from the beginning, I was just along for the ride."

"I don't understand how," she said, "But you three seem happy. Incomplete without each other. Bound by the Maker." Bound by someone else actually, and even I was starting to get a hint of that by then. Damned eagles.

Soprano shook her head, becoming serious for a moment. "Yet you will have to marry a magister," she said, "I find that tragic." The historical reputation of our neighbours to the north being what it is.

"The only chance we've got," I said, still in good cheer, "Considering the price the Tevinters could have asked for our help and the price we would almost certainly have to pay to stay in Ferelden, the magisters chose to ask for something I can give without surrendering my soul." Or at least, not all of it.

We quieted as we finally reached the deserted Alienage square, the time for idle chat at an end.

Soprano let the front of the column march the entire length of the square along the road before the halt, sending a runner to the rear companies to turn and do the same onto the road that branched off dividing the Alienage from the brothel district. This made two lines of troops perpendicular to each other, with the corner directly opposite the gates. We were inside the corner. It was all ideal to face down any sally or attempt to shower us with arrows from the rooftops.

The rooftops were clear of archers though, a fact that boded well to my mind.

The Warden-Commander looked on with approval for a minute, before turning her attention to us once more. "Ready?" Andras asked, "For your big moment?"

Soprano narrowed her eyes, scanning her troops. Looking for something out of place, I thought. "Soldiers," she called, "Remove your helmets and hats!"

The troops looked at one another for a moment, wondering why she could possibly want that. So did I, although I wasn't about to undo her command. The winter cold was already chewing on my nose, I was glad for my helmet and furs. But I got her intent as soon as soldiers started to do as they had been told. It started with the sergeants, and that got the whole regiment taking off their head coverings.

Out of the thousand or so Rangers at that time, seven in ten were elves.

Soprano herself took off her Earth-origin kevlar helmet, the thing that marked her out as a general along with the accompanying vest, revealing her own dirty blonde hair to the cold. And her own ears.

"Now I am, Warden-Commander," she said, "Stay here. I will not require your introduction." Andras inclined her head, allowing it.

The order was a masterstroke, and one I wouldn't have thought of myself. The city elves would be far more willing to trust us if they saw their cousins both under arms and in high command. It was so perfectly fitted to the occasion, it also gave me a wild idea of my own. I stopped Soprano just before she moved.

"Wait," I said, "I have something..."

I rummaged under my furs for the item in question, and pulled it out. My blue beret, with the gold emblem on its front.

"Wear that," I said.

Soprano looked at me like I had just offered her my child to hold, and took the beret in her hand like it was a holy relic. Not because it was something from another world, she was covered in artefacts like that already. But she knew how important to me it was. I had almost never let the thing out of my sight. I like to think she was appreciating my open display of trust. She put it on carefully, making sure the emblem was at the front. I gave her an a-okay sign with my hand when she had finished.

She set her horse, a tall black destrier like Fritz was, into a soft canter towards the gate. The square was as silent as a crypt, the soldiers watching every movement in front of her intrigued. They had some idea of the significance of what we were trying to do too. She stopped half way.

"I am General Lydia Moreau of the Free Army!" she shouted at the Alienage gate, "Open up, I want to talk!"

Slowly, the gates began to open outwards, the green wood creaking on its large hinges as they moved. It revealed a crowd of elves, most unarmed, others with clubs and bows. In front was the same red-haired elf that Andras had talked to earlier the same day, except she was wearing long flowing green robes, embroidered with curling tree designs in deep red.

"And there's Shianni," Andras said under her breath, "As stubborn a _hahren_ as any that has existed."

I curled my lips, sure we could call Soprano stubborn too. One might think this means it was going to be a disaster, but considering we held all the cards and weren't asking for much, it was probably not too great an advantage.

Shianni stepped forwards, outside of the Alienage boundary, the mass of people behind her following slowly. They didn't spread out, menace anyone with their clubs or nock arrows to their bows. They just followed, clearly afraid but also intrigued by the sight of our soldiers. Of course, our own soldiers didn't think much of them. The mob was little threat. One fusillade would have dispersed them. Bayonets would have done the rest. But the troops also kept an impassive demeanour, content to watch rather than participate in events.

Soprano dismounted her horse, and fearing nothing of the mob herself, met Shianni before the mass could cross the middle of the square. She was a little taller. Shianni's long red hair was tied up, Soprano's cut short like all of the Free Army's soldiers since the surrender of Hearth. Hygiene standards being the excuse, less hair meant less use of soap and less chance of lice, but it took on an aspect of mourning too. It made the tattoos on her neck all the more visible.

The General held out her hand to the _hahren,_ which was accepted, albeit begrudgingly. They squared off for a moment as they shook hands, as if inspecting each other. The Fereldan elf finally relented, her forehead creasing with the exasperation of someone who knew she'd bear the consequences if she kept up the resistance.

They began to talk.

* * *

The meeting was as brief as you'd expect, but it went well, perhaps aided by the blistering cold breeze.

The Alienage agreed to a garrison in its gatehouse and regular patrols, but by elves only. They didn't want anything to do with humans, our revolution, or anything else we might offer. In this, the deal was as much a proclamation of independence from Fereldan jurisdiction as it was about ours.

It didn't give us absolute control of the place, but it did give a foothold from which we could stamp down hard on any resistance. Not that there would be any. Soprano, living up to the moniker I had given her, gave the _hahren_ an offer she couldn't refuse. But she also made it clear that our interest wasn't in the city itself. She delivered notice of my intentions towards keeping the civic peace while we were there, which would endear the elves towards us.

So, mission accomplished.

After that, I issued orders for the night by radio, two hour watches and no one on the streets. There could be drinking and socialising in town in later days, when our presence looked more secure. For now, it was batten down the hatches. We sealed the city up, and prepared to rest in beds for the first time in weeks. Not that I was adverse to the furs. In some ways, they were better.

The Rangers left a company in the Alienage gatehouse, one with a captain that spoke the Common tongue. Its human soldiers were banned, so they'd stay just across the square. The rest marched with me back down the east-west avenue, through the crossroads and the Merchant's Quarter to Anora's Watch. It was sunset by the time we arrived, the long shadows cast by the walls and buildings had turned the place entirely dark. We approached the shadowy forms, the wall to our left and shopfronts to our right. I yawned repeatedly, utterly exhausted.

"Careful, my lord," Soprano said with faux-seriousness, "Open your mouth that wide for that long, something's going to fly in and nest."

"Good," I replied, "Maybe then I could eat it. I'm starving. Maybe then I could sleep some too."

"I'm sure the bann is being a good host, getting something suitable ready to eat," said Soprano hopefully, "She doesn't seem as stupid as her brother."

"Not sure he was stupid," I said, "Just... broken."

"He acts the fool at every opportunity, my lord," Soprano said slowly, "The arrogance is something I'd expect from a chevalier."

"You're being unkind," came Andras' voice from behind, "Delilah Howe owes everything to the modesty of her brother. She even renounced her family name, until Alistair gave it back to her with the title of bann. That only happened because Nathaniel refused it. Bethany wasn't lying when she said he was a good man."

"Not sure I care," I admitted, "My teeth still chatter remembering that kick he gave me. Between that and his refusal to cooperate, I just can't see past the crazy."

Andras said nothing more on the subject, knowing it was a loser for her. She wasn't about to annoy us to the point that we'd be less likely to pursue actions in support of her own agenda. Not for one man's honour. It actually endeared her further to me, that she saw the bigger picture.

Soprano detected the awkward silence however, and decided to do something about it. "Warden-Commander," she said, "Your treasurer is Bethany Hawke. I've heard that one of the people responsible for the beginning of the Mage Rebellion is also called Hawke. Your Hawke is a mage. Are they the same person?"

I could almost hear the smile on Andras' face when she replied, even without seeing it. "I doubt even the Grey Wardens could protect the Champion of Kirkwall from the Templars," she said, "Marion Hawke is who you are speaking of. Bethany is her younger sister. Though Bethany herself was at Kirkwall too, when that all happened."

"So she saw the explosion?" Soprano further inquired, "And the fighting in the streets?"

"She participated in the fighting," Andras said, "Helped her sister get the mages out of the city and stop Knight-Commander Meredith."

"I take it she wasn't welcome after that," I said, "I've got reports somewhere about the Templars leaving, but that only happened a few months ago. Only heard what happened through Armen. He was stuck in the White Spire at the time, nose deep in books no doubt, not exactly a first hand source."

Andras seized on my words. "Perhaps you would like to speak with Bethany?" she said, "We can join you for dinner, and she can talk about what she saw at Kirkwall. Considering your wish to free mages, I'm sure it would be interesting."

I didn't really understand her motivations. Doing something just because it was nice didn't seem like her, so Andras had to have some agenda. "I'm not sure she would want to," I said, "Bethany didn't like my treatment of Constable Howe. And I can't speak for the others. I think we were planning on having a private dinner." The first one we had the opportunity for since Hearth.

"I will of course ask the Marquise," Andras said. I winced. Asking the person most willing to turn dinner into a political event was likely to produce results. To the displeasure of others.

"Actually, Tam is who you need to convince," I shot back, "Julie would let it happen just because you asked." Sharing dinner being a costless concession to a defeated opponent, just as having dinner cooked was more or less a costless concession to a victor.

"Will the General be joining us?" Andras asked, turning to Soprano.

"She will not," she replied, "I have made arrangements with others."

"Pity," Andras lamented, "The five of us can dine in the Royal Lounge, Marquis. Only part of the castle worthy of the event. Your dear wife, your mistress, yourself and I, listening to Bethany's tales. I'm sure you'll learn all sorts of things you wouldn't from any other source."

And I was sure that Andras was angling for information gathering herself.

"Oh no, more," I said, "You'll get to meet the whole... family. I'll make sure of it."

Andras' eyebrows arched upwards, surprised. She'd be even more surprised if she knew what the term encompassed for me. Though she'd soon understand. But if our relationship with Ferelden, as fractious as it has always been, was ever going to be something other than searing hostility, I needed an ally.

"Have fun," Soprano smirked at Andras, "Piece of advice. Don't bring the King."

Andras' surprise turned on the General, flushing red. Or more red than she had been. Apparently, that imposition was one she had been planning. "Why's that?" she asked.

"Have you read the Marquise's writings?" Soprano said, "You want the King slapped around with words?"

The General was gravely underestimating the lessons that Julie had drawn from our defeat in Orlais, but perhaps that only became apparent to others later. When we had to deal with the Vinters and Marchers.

It was the Warden-Commander's turn to be amused. "The King has a thick hide," Andras replied, "He can take it."

Soprano merely shrugged, taking Andras' word for it. I wasn't so certain.

* * *

Lady Howe did indeed instruct that a meal be prepared for us.

None of my companions Tam had no objections to either the Wardens or the King joining except for Leha, but she considered herself outvoted, and so we all made for the Royal Lounge after washing ourselves and changing into fresh clothes.

The room reminded me much of Pierre Des Arbes' own lounge, minus the bookstacks. Padded leather chairs, small coffee tables, tapestries in abundance. A fireplace stood in one wall, opposite large double-glazed windows overlooking the docks. The windows also had large shutters for keeping out storm winds, which I had no doubt we would be needing at some point. The room doubled as a ballista room in the event of invasion from the sea, the grooves for aiming the then-absent weapons in the floor giving that away.

No Orlesian would have dared make their lounge double in that role.

The initial occupants of the room were Tam, Julie, Armen, Ciara, Leha, little Lana and myself.

Tam in her usual revealing Qunari garb, which the light of the fire exacerbated by throwing shadows across her curves. As if to cool any lustful thoughts I might have, Lana was sitting on her lap dressed in Chantry sister's robes, playing with Tam's strands of electric blonde hair and humming a tune to herself. Tam seemed to be enjoying it.

Julie in a noble's dress for once, deeming it a necessity, the blue fabric unfortunately doing its best to hide her curves. Her long red-brown hair was well brushed and tied back in braids, again reflecting status. She had refrained from putting on her half-mask though. Fereldans didn't think much of masks. She was biting her lip, staring at the fire, deep in thought.

Armen was in his mage's robes, a fur cloak around his shoulders. A small necklace with an icon of the Libertarian faction hung around his neck. Staff propped up against the back of his chair, within easy reach. He was listening to Lana's humming too, taking generous sips from a tankard of ale and enjoying himself capitally.

Ciara kept it simple, a well made linen tunic, her hunting trousers and another fur cloak, although a much lighter one than the beast across Armen. She was busy reading something in the dwarven script, which didn't really interest me. She too would take ale between turning pages, not looking away from the book while reaching out for the tankard.

Leha was in a set of cloth and leather armour I had never seen before, but would have been familiar to anyone else in Amaranthine. Carta garb. She had brought a small stack of paper with her, as well as a notepad with a candle and an inkwell atop it, a popular device among administrators and diplomats in those days. A quartermaster never sleeps, though she proceeded with her work in good humour for once. Money does that to her.

You can spot the odd one out there. Grand-Cleric Brandon had insisted that Lana Duquense quarter with us for a few days, rather than at the Chantry or in the town. Two motives sprang to mind for this. One was that Brandon wasn't satisfied with my level of adherence to the Chant of Light, the other was that she was afraid that the environment of the Chantry Quarter for a young girl. If Lana's parents wanted her, she would have been with them at the docklands. But she wasn't wanted, which was why she was in Brandon's care in the first place.

Either way, I was delighted to accept the request. Lana was always good fun to have around, and she would help blunt the overtly political nature of certain conversations I knew would have been had otherwise.

We were all standing or sitting in range of the fireplace, as castles or fortifications generally are not great for keeping out the cold and are not easy to heat. Three chairs had been left empty in the direction of the main doorway.

Their would-be occupants walked in ahead of the servants.

Alistair Theirin, in a warm-red kingly tunic and breeches. He had let his beard grow out, which was the same red-blonde colour as his hair.

Sidona Andras, in blue and grey mage robes with enough material to make it as warm as Armen's fur. She didn't have her staff.

Bethany Hawke, in identical robes to that of Andras save for the differing cut to account for her bigger stature, both in terms of height and bounty. Minus the hood. The Warden-Constable most certainly did have her staff.

The servants, almost all of them elves, came in waves after them, setting down silver platters of meat and vegetables on the tables around us. Fried nug cutlets to large gruffulo steaks, with potatoes, peas, scones for soaking up the gravy and grease. I saw Ciara and Julie's eyes watch the servants intently, not paying heed to the food just yet. Whereas Armen looked like he might actually drool.

I wasn't far behind the mage.

The servants stood, each taking a fork and used them to take a small portion of everything served. They ate what they had speared or scooped up, and stood back from the chairs and tables, waiting. I was very close to being audibly confused by this behaviour, until it struck me that they were tasting the food for poison. Whether it was for the benefit of the King or a sign from Lady Howe that she wasn't trying to kill us, I don't know.

We stared at the servants, until Andras waved them away when it became apparent that no fast acting poisons were about to kill any. They looked visibly relieved. The Warden-Commander thanked them by name as they passed by her, and finally, we were alone.

I wanted to begin eating right then and there, but unfortunately, there were niceties to be observed.

"Your Majesty," Julie said in Common, getting up from her seat, "I'm glad you could join us."

"Seemed polite," Alistair joked cheekily, "Bit rude to deny your captors some dinner company."

"It's not like you would have been punished for saying no," I replied, "Wouldn't have blamed you at all."

"Especially since I have been cruel to you," Julie added, "When we spoke, I insulted your Queen and implied you weren't doing your duty to your kingdom in getting an heir... I needed to spell out in plain words the danger by pointing out sensitive matters. For reasons of state. I apologise."

Julie curtsied gently, and watched Alistair with her big green eyes for a response. How Machiavelli would be proud, I thought.

The King for his part started rubbing the back of his neck, at a loss for a moment.

"I can't take offence for myself," Alistair said at last, "But your words about Anora were entirely unfair. I'm a Grey Warden regardless of my crown. If anyone is at fault for our... situation, it is me."

How true that actually was, given King Cailan's proclivities, I don't think we'll ever know.

"They were unfair," Julie agreed, "And I do not wish them to create a permanent division between our two realms."

"Your invasion has already done that," Alistair said, truthfully enough, "But I guess I can forgive you the insult."

Julie inclined her head in thanks, and gestured to the seats reserved, so that we could begin eating. Alistair and Andras moved to sit, but the third Warden conspicuously did not move. But it was only when I noticed this that the person in question acted further.

"Will you apologise to Nathaniel?" Bethany piped up, "For mistreating him, setting your Qunari on him and leaving him to shiver in the rain?"

Julie's eyes went to me, which really made me feel the pressure. She had no intention of doing my dirty work on this matter. She hadn't been the one to order Constable Howe's punishment, after all. I sighed, and gave her a nod to let her know that I didn't expect her to.

"When he apologises for saying we work for the Orlesian crown," I replied, not looking , "And if he has calmed down, I will be happy to."

The Warden-Constable crossed her arms, one hand still gripping her staff, clearly unsatisfied by my answer. There wasn't a chance in hell I was going to apologise to the Howe maniac before he retracted his own insult. I crossed my arms right back in parody, which did not please the young woman.

But it did get Julie into the fray. "I understand that you are not here of your own will," she said, "If you wish, you can return to your quarters."

I'm not sure if that was intended as reverse psychology, but that's the effect it had. "No," Bethany replied defiantly, "I feel the need to stay and support my Warden-Commander and King."

"Then sit down and shut up," Tam intoned from her own chair, her accent in Common being more harsh than Orlesian, "Your posturing does you no credit, _saarebas_. The food is getting cold." My Qunari lover leaning forwards, grabbed a plate of nug cutlets and two forks, all the while keeping an intrigued Lana balanced on her thigh.

Bethany Hawke sat down like a shot, seemingly embarrassed at last. Whatever her relationship to Howe, we never did find out if she was his lover or just a respectful subordinate, she was not immune from Tam's effortless ability to command greater social grace.

Julie sat down at the same time, and finally, we were able to eat and talk without the airs required of a formal meeting. The others got moving sharply towards the former, piling plates high but still thankfully using cutlery. Even Ciara, who was fond of finger food. I got stuck into some of the steak with glee. Fereldan food is far more simple than Orlesian fare, but as I had been eating Army rations for months, my stomach probably wouldn't have taken anything more sophisticated.

Andras in particular was eager to stoke the more casual conversation, preferring the wine to the food. She had a fine Serault glass cup to drink it out of too, a strange piece of luxury to my mind.

"So, what do you think of Amaranthine, Marquis?" she asked, "As a man from another world, how does it measure up to the cities of your world?"

A safe topic to start with, if ever there was one, while still being of great curiosity to listeners.

"Actually," I said between bites, "It's not the worst place I've seen even accounting for the cities of Earth. Even the Alienage isn't the worst I've seen." Try Sadr City on for size, ladies and gents. Before my time, but still a god damned safari.

"I would certainly hope so!" Andras asked, "After all the work I've put in."

"And all the blood our fellow Wardens have spilled to protect it," Bethany added, without venom.

"Indeed," Andras sighed, "No small amount of blood."

Alistair's gaze peered at me as he chewed on cheese, yet again, as he awaited the answer.

"Where I'm from is not uniform," I replied, "No more than Thedas is. There are cities in my own country that are more dangerous to live in, I think. Amaranthine is cleaner than many settlements in... other places. "

"So you are from another world," Alistair said, "You don't deny it?"

I shrugged, not deeming to answer and gulping down some ale instead. "How can I?" I said. Everything about me was alien in some fashion, no matter how subtle.

"He doesn't like talking about it," Ciara replied, sympathetically, "He gets homesick." That actually put a pang of just that very emotion through me, that I suppressed with another wash of ale.

"The Marquis has a holy task here," Lana agreed, still chewing her food, "He shouldn't be distracted from it. That's what Mother Brandon says."

Alistair smiled at the child. "And who are you?"

"Lana," she replied, as if that was more than sufficient.

The kid seemed to realise something, her eyes widening for a second. She grabbed a napkin and rubbed her face, before hopping down off of Tam's knee. She went before the King and curtsied as Julie had, as is appropriate when being introduced to a King.

That lightened the mood considerably, all of us unable to contain our smiles at her sudden manners.

"A very polite young woman," Alistair grinned, "What is your relationship to the Marquis?" As obviously she wasn't related by blood to me. Though her dark hair might have suggested it, her pointed ears certainly blew away that chance.

"Teacher," Lana said, seemingly getting embarrassed by the attention, "I teach him the Chant of Light."

"At Grand-Cleric Brandon's insistence," I added, waving Lana over to sit on my knee instead, "In which she has been very helpful." She climbed up and and put one arm around my neck to steady herself, while the other stretched out and grabbed a piece of steak for her to chew on, eliciting more amusement. Even Bethany Hawke's demeanour lightened.

Of course, Lana was more like an adopted daughter even then. An arrangement that became more and more real from that point onwards.

"I would have thought you might be more interested in my … immunity," I said, "Rather than my origin."

"That would be my interest, yes," Hawke said, managing to keep the hostility out of her voice, "I struck you with an Arcane Warrior's spirit blade, and it just shattered."

"Yes," I said wistfully, "You're the third person to try that trick. The first was General Velarana, His Majesty's captor. The second was Vivienne, the Madame de Fer, Enchanter to the Imperial Court of Orlais. Though she tried it on my horse."

I took another sip of ale. "It didn't work out for either of them either."

"Velarana's attack is what made Brandon throw her weight behind us," Armen said, eyes raised as he remembered, "Those days seem like they happened a lifetime ago."

"Little more than a year ago," Leha corrected, having put down her work.

"Can we not talk about Hearth?" Julie asked, "You'll make _me_ homesick."

Armen agreed in place of the entire group, and resumed eating. Julie breathed out with relief, glad not to be entering that territory. She still felt huge guilt for what happened to her home town, and I squeezed her hand. She squeezed back, cheered up a bit.

I looked back at the Fereldan corner, and saw the King looking troubled. He had observed my exchange with Julie, and I thought he might want to ask about our … situation.

"What is it, your Majesty?" I asked, "You have something else you want to know?"

Alistair cleared his throat, and scratched his chin for a little while. Wondering if he should ask, given what he eventually did ask.

"Did you have family back on... your world?" he said.

I raised an eyebrow. That was not what I expected.

"Of course," I said, "Parents, brother and sister, nieces and nephews, friends."

"And you'll never see them again?" Bethany asked, pity entering her tone. Pity I hadn't thought her capable of giving towards me.

"Not that I know of," I said, "I have it on good authority that it is impossible." As some of you are probably aware, I would see one of them again. Though they would be near unrecognisable to me, at first.

"No wife or children?" Andras asked, getting into the game.

"None," I replied, "I had lovers, but..."

"And now you have a wife _and_ a mistress," Alistair said, eyeing the wife and mistress in question, "Does that make up for the loss of your family?" It seemed we had struck a personal nerve with him, I thought.

"Tam is Julie's mistress," I joked back, not wanting to confront that mess directly, "But everyone you see in this room is my family now."

I turned to our dwarven companion. "Yes, even you Leha," I said.

"I'm going to start crying if you keep that up," Leha said back, all sarcasm and pointing her fork at me, "But you keep bringing me chests of gold and silver, by the Stone, I'll marry you myself."

"Don't tempt me," I chuckled, making a kissy face back at her that got a tremendous laugh out of Lana and decent ones out of everyone else. The kid whispered in my ear and asked if she was part of my family too. I nodded. She gave me a kiss on the cheek and hugged me, managing to smear a little gruffulo grease onto me. I didn't mind.

"Awww," Ciara called, "So cute."

"Of course, there are others I consider my extended family," I continued, Lana still attached to my neck, "My officers are like close cousins by now. Julie has a sister, a niece and a nephew, they're family too."

"All three of whom are fast asleep, safe and sound, in this very castle," said Julie, raising her glass, "Maker bless them." Something she considered to be an accomplishment in itself.

"So, to answer your question, your Majesty" I concluded, "I lost one family and gained another."

Alistair nodded to himself, rather sadly I thought. I had some idea of his own family troubles, but as they were fraught with pitfalls and Julie had already used them for political purposes, I wasn't going to delve into that subject with him. But there was someone whose family was of interest to us, and it was the entire purpose of her presence to talk about it with us. The moment wasn't right yet, though. Andras sensed it too.

"What will you do once you leave Ferelden?" Andras asked, "Where will you go?"

"The Free Marches," Armen declared, "We're going to found a new city."

The Constable seemed troubled by that. Which was something I paid close attention to, as she was the person with the most experience of the region in question.

"Most of the Marches are already claimed," Bethany said, "The parts that aren't are all very dangerous. The whole region is threaded with tunnels to the Deep Roads, made during the Fourth Blight. We Wardens don't lack for work, that's for sure. And that's just one threat... Raiders, pirates... I wouldn't go anywhere near Kirkwall."

"Good thing we have Grey Wardens ourselves," Tam said, before looking at me, "Along with an army, _gaatlok_ weapons, all led by one of the most capable generals alive."

"You exaggerate on one thing, at least," I replied, "I have the best officers in the world helping me."

"Not at all, _Arishok_ ," she said, in a tone that brooked no disagreement. And was suggestive of other feelings. Leha groaned at the display. I suspected the King wanted to as well, to be honest. What interested me was that the King knew what an Arishok was. There's a story behind that too, but we'll get to that in due course.

"The Marches have a lot of unrest at the moment," Alistair thought aloud, "Antiva's still Antiva, Racial tension in Wycome, Ostwick's got a succession crisis... Kirkwall is looking like it might get taken by Starkhaven."

"We can help stop the unrest," Julie said, "Or at least, provide safe haven to those fleeing it."

The Revolution continues while the Marquise lives.

Andras waved a hand at Tam. "Shall you be Warden-Commander of... what do you plan the city to be called?" she asked.

"Not sure yet," Tam said, "I am a Warden now whether I like it or not, but should I command? I guess that will be decided after the election." The answer to both questions.

"Well, I have an idea," Julie said, "About the name of the city, I mean. I've been thinking about it for some time."

"Oh?" I said, "And you've been keeping this a secret?"

"Not at all," she said, "We've just been too busy to consider the question."

"And we're not so busy anymore," Ciara agreed, "So, what is it?"

"It better not be America," I frowned, "Or Rome."

"No!" Julie objected, "I don't like those. They don't sound right in Orlesian." Nor did they sound right in the Common tongue when spoken in an Orlesian accent. Something off about the way the vowels are said.

Of course, that was the invitation for everyone to pitch in with their ideas.

"La Fayette?" Leha proffered. The lands I claimed to be Marquis of, and an alternative moniker. I saw one particular problem with that.

"We're the Marquise and Marquis de la Fayette. In the Marches, that would make us the monarchs," I replied, "Don't think that's what people want." Not yet, at any rate.

"Perhaps something elvish with something Orlesian?" Ciara suggested, " _Cit_ _é_ _de Revas_?"

"I like that," Andras cut in.

"Far too Orlesian," Alistair joked, earning a scowl from the Warden-Commander.

"City of freedom?" Armen asked, raising his tankard in experimental salute, "Free City? It's succinct, I'll give it that merit."

"I think people might think I named the city after my horse," Julie smirked, "If I called it _anything_ with Revas in the name. Though Alexander did do the same thing.."

"Who's Alexander?" Bethany asked.

"A famous general," I replied, "From Earth. My world." The answer satisfied Bethany to some degree, though she would later ask for more information. I'm not sure if it was because she thought I was making it all up, or if she wanted to know about the sort of person who would name a city after a horse.

Good thing I didn't feel the need to inform her about Caligula.

"Perhaps you should just tell us," said Tam, "Unless you would like something suitable in qunlat?"

Julie curled her lip, displaying exactly what she thought of that idea. "Only if it didn't require me to hurt my throat saying it."

"A pity," Tam said, "I would like to hear you speak qunlat." She hadn't inflected it like a joke, but she knew full well that it would be far too difficult, and the wide grin that split her face betrayed her intent. Teasing Julie with something she couldn't learn always got a rise out of her, and our lover shook her head, before grabbing Tam's palm and giving it a kiss.

"Lana, do you have any ideas?" Alistair asked, "These adults don't have any clue what they're doing."

Lana's nose wrinkled, as she literally chewed on the problem, growing progressively more red. Eventually, she gave up. "No," she said, "No good ideas." She put another piece of my steak in her mouth and looked away from Alistair. Someone had a little crush, I think. The King was a handsome guy, after all.

"But that's where you're wrong, _petite fleur_ ," Julie said to Lana, "You already have come up with the name yourself."

"Huh?" Lana replied, "I have?"

"Yes," Julie continued, "What is your favourite story?"

Lana looked at me in confusion, before answering.

"The story with Queen Dido," she replied.

"And Aeneas, yes?" Julie asked. Lana nodded.

Suddenly, as had happened when that story had come up the first time in the course of our exile, when it had provided the idea to create a new city in the first place, everything fell into place in my head.

"Don't tell me you want to call our city Carthage?" I asked.

"That's even worse," Alistair said, "Never mind Orlesian. It doesn't roll off of my tongue." Nor mine. It was good that the King had fallen completely into the spirit of the occasion, though.

Julie closed her eyes and shook her head. "I thought about it," she said, "But no."

That ruled out another of the possibilities from the story of the Aeneid, and with Rome already eliminated on the basis of its pronunciation, it left only one other possibility. Which our glorious leader articulated forthwith.

"Troy," said Julie, opening her eyes again, "Our city will be called Troy."

* * *

 _AUTHOR'S NOTE: Another little chapter, with a decent reveal (I think)._

 _Next chapter has a little more action in it._

 _Enjoy!_

 _ **Thepkrmgc:**_ _Shianni was the bann of the Denerim Alienage, but as I've said in this story, a lot of the Denerim elves fled to Amaranthine after the Hero of Ferelden's reforms in the Alienage there failed._

 _ **Viper:**_ _Here's another chapter, reasonably quickly._

 _ **5 Coloured Walker:**_ _Merci_

 _ **Katkiller-V:**_ _Decent amount of set up is required._

 _I think it was just time for a character who understood the ideals of the movement the main characters have created, yet doesn't simply oppose them but rather exploits them. That the default Warden-Commander of Ferelden from Awakening is an Orlesian elf mage fit the bill nicely, I think._

 _ **Halo is bad ass:**_ _Does this chapter answer you?_

 _ **Natzi Sumbitch:**_ _Why an American? Because an American would feel a greater urge to push changes, revolutionary changes. I could have made Sam French too, I guess, but I wanted that solid republican tradition of nationhood in my main character's background either way. I've lived in the US too, so it's not like I'm unfamiliar with Americans. I'm Irish, I couldn't have made him Irish because then it would be a self insert more than I would like._

 _Though I might make an Irish character for a Witcher story I've had floating around my head. Don't know if I should write *another* 'Earth guy goes to another world' story though._

 _ **Twinbuster:**_ _Cheers!_

 _ **Guest:**_ _Thanks!_

 _ **Makuraymi:**_ _Just as long as you're still reading!_

 _I was actually unaware there were Tal Vashoth on the northern coast of Ferelden, in those sorts of numbers anyway. But it's not something plot destroying, I can write that in with great ease. Though, minor spoiler, the real big Vashoth moment is coming at the start of the next volume._


	49. Chapter 49: Undercurrent

**Chapter Forty-Nine: Undercurrent**

Troy, an ancient, mythologised city of heroes, home to many famous men and women of the East. A city at the centre of a war instigated by the gods themselves, a world war. A city defeated and destroyed not by heroism, but by guile and subterfuge.

It was just like Julie to name our new home after a city that was destroyed so famously on my own world, though perhaps she might be a little more humble now. But not by much. She believed God was on our side, at the end of the day. A myth from another world could not harm us. Certainly, it couldn't bring us bad luck, as the vast majority of people were unaware of the name's true origin. Lana, due to her age, had only ever been told part of the story.

Not that there were many other choices without such history either. Rome, another even more famous city I have already made mention of, was sacked repeatedly. Without the embellishments of divine wrath too. Yet it went on, right up until my lifetime. Troy did not enjoy that distinction, but was settled and lived on for millennia after the mythological war that made it famous.

Almost all of the famous centres of civilisation have fallen at one time or another. Hell, even Washington DC, capital of the United States, was seized by a foreign enemy. The White House, looted and burned to the ground. By Canadians, of all people. Wars end, and good places to settle are often in short supply.

But this is not to say that the choice of name was not ominous.

On the contrary, it has foreshadowed our recent history very well, even if the city isn't yet ruined. Julie would get her way on this, but it was to be one of the last things she did get her way about for some time.

Troy, or _Troie_ in Orlesian, was to be the name of our city. But, in the same way as Antiva is sometimes called Calabria, even though that name is neither official nor well used even in its cities, Troy would also have another, equally ominous moniker.

However, choosing a name for a city that didn't exist yet and might not ever come to exist struck me as a luxury. Something best left to the political heads, to Julie, Armen, Leha and others. I already had a city to deal with: Amaranthine.

While I could make peace with some of the powerful people that ruled it, the civil authorities for the most part, there were others I could not. If I wanted to prevent another Baghdad, another Kabul, I needed to eliminate the potential stragglers. Those whose authority was far less legal.

* * *

I called a war council meeting for early morning the next day.

Julie, likewise, called together everyone of political significance outside of the military, as well as all the major artisans among the refugees.

There was no small amount of work to be done outside of keeping order; to lay out the foundations of our new country, deciding the election was going to be run, and organising whatever manufacturing and building efforts were needed, both to prepare for our settlement in less than two months and for whatever wars we might end up fighting to defend it.

Which deprived me of Amund, Brandon, Barris, Leha, Ciara and Armen, as well as Julie herself.

Leha was the biggest loss, if only due to her Carta contacts. She had been cranky when I asked for a list of known Carta operatives in Amaranthine, but she provided that plus a name that we might find useful.

The council assembled in the lounge, which now provided a great view of the sun rising in the East over the harbour. A table large enough for the job had been dragged in through the doors, which after all had been designed to allow the passage of a ballista or two. The commanders of the various parts of the army walked in one-by-one, all looking well rested. I myself was feeling greatly refreshed, a decent meal having done wonders. Ready for what needed to be done. The only hiccup was when Mariette de Villars entered, her mask decidedly covering her face. Thankfully, she joined her larger cousin.

Tam and Andras were the last to enter, both wearing the silverite griffon badges of the Grey Wardens from thin chains around their necks. The Warden-Commander had several large scrolls under her arm, another in her left hand, and two ledgers held against her with the right. The information I requested contained within them, no doubt. But that wasn't what interested me at the exact moment.

"What's this?" I asked Tam, getting the attention of the entire room, "Griffons?"

Tam was not shy about explaining exactly the origin of the jewellery. "The Warden-Commander gave it to me as a present," Tam replied, "For my formal acceptance into the Order."

Andras tutted, waving a finger at Tam past the eyes peering out from under the hood. "My endorsement of her as Warden-Commander," she corrected, "She has all the knowledge she needs to do the job, and the right attitude. I doubt you will find a better candidate."

It wasn't qualifications that Tam was lacking, but the will to take the chance. I looked to her. "Are you going to accept the job?" I asked.

"I will ask the others," Tam said, "I need to know they have confidence in me."

I smiled, knowing full well that they would. Some out of genuine feeling, others out of a perceived need to not insult Julie or I. Warden-Commander wasn't a pathway for the ambitious either, I had already made it known that the Wardens would be subordinate to the Free Army in all matters except for fighting darkspawn. Somewhat similar to how the Templars operated within our ranks, despite their own rank structure being separate from the Army's one.

As for whether or not it would be good for Tam, I had mixed sorrow and joy for her. It wasn't what she had planned, but it gave her a place of respect that even non-Orlesians had to acknowledge. Which was something I was increasingly worried about. Fereldans looked at her with either intense curiosity or moralising disdain. Orlesian sexual mores being different to almost every other culture's, excepting maybe Antiva.

"It's your choice," I said carefully, "Just remember that."

"I will," Tam replied, taking her place beside me.

Andras kept to the other end of the table and placed all the documents she had brought down on its surface, keeping the scrolls wound up. "Shall we begin, Marquis?" she asked.

"Yes," I replied, standing up straight, "We have four items of business. Keeping order in the city, drilling our troops, what to do about the ships we've captured, and the triumphal march. We'll get the easy things out of the way first."

There were no objections, just attentive silence from all comers.

"I intend to keep the ships," I said, "And arm them with cannon. How exactly that's going to happen is something I'll need to discuss with the Marquise, whether we're going to put some of our existing arsenal on the ships or if we can make more cannons. But right now, we need someone to command our ships."

I turned to our Jaderite representative. "Fisher, you're the only one of us with naval experience," I continued, "Would you accept a commission as Admiral of the Free Navy?"

 _Monsieur Pecheur_ clenched his jaw, scratching the side of his head where the salt and pepper hair met his cheek. He was hesitating. It was a big ask, of a man whose people occupied a nebulous position within our Army.

"The Free Navy..." he thought aloud, "Do I understand you right in saying that I would be your equal?"

I felt my eyes narrow unconsciously at him, unable to help myself. He wanted to know if he would be at the top table. Which should not have occurred to him at all; he himself had told me that all navies save for the Qunari and the Armada were subordinate to the military command of armies. The idea of a separate branch, equal to that of armies, was an alien idea for the most part. Which got me thinking that someone perhaps had passed on the concept from Earth books to him.

To be honest, I hadn't really thought about the ranks either. Other than seating some other Jaderite in his place, which would have divided the sailors, I had no choice but to agree if he insisted. Still, I was confident that Julie would favour me either way, even if our ranks were equal.

"Yes, you would be equal," I said, "Though I'll still be in charge of discipline and training." As Fisher knew how to sail and a good deal about the old way of fighting a battle at sea, but nothing about military professionalism.

To my utter bafflement, he looked to Velarana for a moment. That should have been a warning in itself, that something was up. It was upsetting some plan or another, and Fisher was too honest a man to not let it show. The Aequitarian just stared back, not reacting. Velarana always was far more able to conceal her feelings and thoughts. I was intrigued by what they could possibly be cooking up, but it's not like they were going to spill the beans right then and there.

Finally, Fisher nodded to himself. "I accept," he said, "But I don't have enough men. I can sail the ships we have, no problem, but that's nowhere near the same thing as fighting a battle."

"I thought you might say that," I said, "I'll transfer the three newest infantry regiments to your command for use as sailors and marines."

"No women," Fisher said quickly, like the thought had just occurred to him, "Can't have women on ships." Of course, our army being famously integrated in that respect at the time. He meant single, unattended women whom couldn't be separated from the crew, of course.

The temperature in the room dropped sharply, and that is not a figure of speech. The warmth provided by the fireplace beyond seemed to be getting sucked away by Velarana's person. Perhaps Fisher wasn't in cahoots with her after all? The newly minted Admiral was very quick to clarify his position.

"Don't look at me like that, Generals," he said, addressing the female officers in the room, "I know you are all used to letting your soldiers act freely in … certain respects, but I can't have it on my boats. In an army, if people need space they can get it, easily. On board a ship, there's nowhere you can go, sometimes for weeks on end. All the discipline in the world won't stop the conflicts it'll create to throw women into that scenario. Besides, it's bad luck."

That did not seem to mollify the officers who were insulted. Though I was beginning to see his argument. The Navy guys I knew on Earth did say that boredom is worse in a metal box, and the women on board our ships did have it rough. And that was in a more civilised era, with far greater disciplinary pressure. There was also an Earth precedent for a solution, though.

"Bad luck aside..." I said, "That means I can only give you half of what I planned. Maybe fifteen hundred. And I'm reluctant to break up regiments like that. Can you crew the ships with men and women separately? Some ships mostly by women, some mostly by men?"

Fisher chewed on that for a minute, murmuring to himself.

"It's never been done, Marquis," he said, "Sailing is hard work. Men's work. The women that can do it are the exception rather than the rule."

"Our soldiers are not weaklings, Admiral," Soprano said, all daggers, "While I cannot claim that the women are equal to the men in strength, I will not hear that their determination fails to make up for that." A very Sopranoesque argument to make. Fisher didn't respond to it, probably because he couldn't without insulting the General.

Another problem occurred to me. "Fisher, does this mean you will not allow female Tranquil on board?" I asked, "To act as gunners?"

"They would be even more of a problem, Marquis," he replied, "They follow all orders, almost without question. I think that would be abused."

"We could threaten harsh penalties," McNulty pointed out, "Rape is already punished with death, Tranquil or no."

"Except how do you prove it?" Fisher asked, "If most of the lower deck crew are involved, they'll protect each other. I've seen it happen to captives before. I've rescued people who got the same treatment at the hands of pirates too." I levelled a glare at the man, transmitting that I hoped very much that he hadn't been involved in that first incident.

"Tranquil never lie," McNulty replied, "We ask them regularly about the activities they're ordered to perform or the behaviour of the crew, they'll tell us. Secret pacts won't help anyone then, will they?"

I felt like we were getting deep into issues that we ought to avoid in any case. "Better to avoid the scenario entirely," I said, "There's always someone stupid enough to abuse the rules, and they might be willing to murder to avoid getting shot for that themselves. And if there is any chance that the Tranquil can be cured of their curse, I intend to take it. Wouldn't do much good for us to cure them, only for them to have mental breakdowns due to abuse."

"Many may already have that problem, Marquis," said Marable, the Isolationist looking sad, "They lived in the Circle before you rescued them, remember?"

"Then I want them to think of us well," I said, "The opposites to their abusers."

"Simply order them to protect themselves," Soprano said, "Let them keep daggers and cut the throats of anyone who attempts to bugger them. The Tranquil do understand rank. If a captain orders it, they will obey even if a lower crewman tells them to disobey."

I shook my head. That would undoubtedly destroy morale on a ship. And one person with a dagger was easy prey for multiple men with swords. I was a little depressed that Fisher thought his people would be capable of such brutality, but they were no country peasants, unlike the vast majority of the Free Army's recruits.

"Okay, Fisher, you win," I said, "No women, for now. We'll have to train some of the men as gunners, or just use less guns than we might otherwise."

The female officers did not look pleased, but accepted the decision. Largely because I had added 'for now' to the acceptance of the Admiral's request, knowing their later requests.

"Thank you, Marquis," Fisher said.

"Nothing to thank me for, Admiral," I said quickly, "I'll get Julie to write up your commission tonight. Next piece of business is the triumphal march. Warden-Commander, the map if you would be so kind."

Andras took the largest scroll in hand, undid the twine that served to keep it together, and unrolled the map across the table until it covered nearly three quarters of the space. I leaned over and pulled the paper towards me, until it was close enough for me to point at. The well ordered grid of the city's avenues were revealed, along with the tangled mess of the outer residencies and the smaller streets.

I thanked her, and set my firelance down on the map so the paper wouldn't roll up again.

"The march will take place in two days time," I said, "It will start in front of this castle. The escort of honour, led by General Velarana, Colonel Isewen and Soprano, will take the King and his entourage from the keep to the south gate."

I traced the route with my finger. "It will follow the wall road to the docks, where our civilians can get a good look, then directly to the central crossroads via the north-south avenue, southwards to the gate. The participating regiments will be the mages, the Guard and the Lancers in order of precedence. So Guard first, then mages, then Lancers. In parade formation. Then, once the King and the bann have left the city, the regiments will return for a flag ceremony, with our flag formally raised over the battlements, alongside the Grey Warden banner."

I paused, knowing that this was mostly the ceremonial, aka boring, part of the problem.

"Now, no matter what else happens, we must control the two main avenues," I continued, "That means every regiment along the avenues is going to have to be ready to barricade the side streets leading to the avenue."

"That could be unpopular," Andras frowned.

"I know," I said, "But at the same time, I want people to see the march. So, ranged units on rooftops, barricades bulging out of the streets to both contain people and allow spectators to see if any, bills nearby to react if necessary."

"And town guards at the barricades," Andras added insistently, "If it's just your people doing the guarding, no one will show up."

"How will they guard anything without weapons?" Mike asked, "We disarmed your Silverguards and gendarmes."

"They still have clubs," the Warden-Commander smiled, "Leather covered cudgels. For when they need to take people alive."

I pondered whether or not it would be wise to take even those from the guards, but dismissed the instinct. The guards needed to maintain some dignity and role, or they'd defect to whatever resistance might form.

"You're probably right, Warden-Commander," I said, "We'll get into more detail on this later. Next thing on the agenda; drill."

I tapped my forefinger on the top of my firelance as it rested on the table.

"With the resources of the arling at our disposal, we plan to make another couple of thousand firelances while we are here," I said, "Along with regular training and drill, it means we need some space to teach more soldiers how to use them. The docks are the only secure space in the city. Two more regiments are going to be converted to firelancers during our stay here."

"Mike, I'm going to need you to work up a rotation for training on them once we've decided which two. Regular drill three times a week will take place on the docks, on days where the sky isn't dumping half the ocean on us."

The diminutive she-elf gave a thumbs up. The three Highlanders, Aoife, Cormac and Asala, immediately began whispering to each other. I waited for their own little conference to end, already guessing what they'd ask. They chose their spokesperson and went quiet for a second.

"Marquis," Asala called out deeply, "I would like to formally request that the Highlanders be one of the two regiments."

"I will take that into consideration," I replied, "Sooner or later, all regiments will get firelances, though their roles are going to vary. Including the cavalry, the Templars and the mages."

Velarana cleared her throat, pushing a blonde lock out of her face. I turned to her. "Marquis, mages?" she asked, "Is that necessary?"

"Yes," I replied, "As it stands, our enemies can pick out our mages from a distance too easily, telling the enemy exactly where to send antimagic countermeasures. Eventually, when we have more weapons, I intend to muster out all but the most capable elementalists from the Army."

"Why?" Louise de Villars asked from under her skull mask, "They are extremely powerful."

"They're far more valuable behind the lines," I replied, "Mages make manufacturing, healing, construction, pretty much everything more easy. Putting their lives on the line is a criminally poor use of their talents."

I also had a concern about the psychological effects of continuous combat on the mages in particular. As our way of war spread, things would get more messy. When things get messy, some people just lose it. Mages losing it meant demons, which might mean serious trouble for our policy of mages living openly among us. Not something I intended to make noise about just yet.

"This brings us onto a subject I would like discuss," said Velarana, stepping forward to stand over the edge of the table, "If you would allow it, my lord?"

Uh oh, I thought.

"There will be time at the end," I said.

"On second thought," she started, "I think perhaps it is best said in private." Signalling her agreement by taking a half step back again, she waited as the others examined her, as equally curious about what she might have said had I allowed it as I was.

"Last and most important item," I continued, still eyeing the Aequitarian, "Keeping order in this city. Our most difficult task in the months ahead. As the Warden-Commander will soon make clear, even the locals could not properly achieve the task. But we are going to, ladies and gents. Have no doubt about that."

I nodded to Andras, and let her have the floor. She took a large ledger, one of the three she had, and opened it at the first page.

"Amaranthine is a large city, as big as your Hearth was at its height," she said, "And unlike Orlais, there are no courts in Ferelden. Most crimes are settled by the victims, violently. The guards exist to protect merchant property and deter bandits, they do not act as gendarmes unless the nobles order them to."

She put her hand on the ledger. "The organised criminals know how to play politics," she continued, "In this are the names all of men and women well used to being able to avoid my wrath, because of who I am."

That is to say, an Orlesian elf mage. The collection of officers looked suitably unamused by the news, save for the two wearing masks.

"But as you do not have to answer to the other nobles of Ferelden if you kill these criminals," she said, with a growing smile, "You can eliminate them without consequences."

"They are also the people most likely to resist us," I said, "And in truth, they're the only ones that can. The honourable soldiers are either dead, loyal to the bann's word of surrender or are making their way back to Denerim as we speak. That leaves the criminals and thugs to deal with."

It was Mariette de Villars who objected to the plan, on pretty good grounds.

"Marquis," she said without her usual playful insolence, "Our soldiers have come with full purses, and all the reason in the world to spend. Our army stands to make these men a lot of coin, if they cooperate. Why would they resist?"

I eyed Andras, for whom the moment of truth had come. For the briefest second, she seemed nervous, but as soon as I looked at her, she knew I was going to do her dirty work for her. Because she had been right about one thing. Not doing it would have been gross hypocrisy.

"Very simple," I replied, "What is the mandate of this Army? Why does it exist?"

"To protect the people," Tam said instantly, "Their lives and their freedom."

"Exactly," I said, "So how could I allow my soldiers to participate in the spread of suffering, all for the benefit of criminals?"

I picked up another one of the ledgers. "The Warden-Commander has no shortage of information on what goes on behind the doors of those brothels," I said, "Most of it would be just fine and dandy, if the women themselves were the only ones profiting. But instead, it's a web of enforced debt, sickness, poverty and evil. We have no choice but to stop it."

I let the ledger fall to the table with a whack.

"In other words," Andras said, "Tyrants do not only wear crowns or masks."

"Correct. So, tonight, we're going to seize control of the red light district," I said, "Every single one of the people with names in that book will be arrested. Those that resist arrest will be met with absolute force. Those that don't will be tried by a military tribunal later. The Warden-Commander will have to convince me, as Military Governor, of their guilt. They'll be free to prove their innocence."

Hardly an entirely free and fair trial, but given that the civil authority was Julie, this was as good as it was going to get. Local juries could be intimidated or bribed to boot, so that wasn't an option either.

"We've divided the names up by quarter," I said, "Soprano, you get the Merchant Quarter. Mike, the Chantry and Artisan quarters. Asala, the Highlanders get the docks. McNulty, you get the honour of seizing Doxy Row and the rest of the red light district. The Warden-Commander will provide guides she trusts to each of you. Additional forces, including artillery and mages, will be distributed to all of your commands for use in emergencies."

"Cannon, sir?" Soprano asked, "Won't that be too destructive?"

"I don't expect you'll be using the cannons," I replied, "They're only going to be deployed in case the town decided to take the opportunity to riot. The mages I do expect to end up being useful though. If I were a criminal looking to escape, I'd set the town on fire. The mages are mostly to protect against that rather than fight."

Louise puffed up her chest, which had rather interesting effects on her person underneath the light noble's garb she was wearing. "What of the cavalry?" Blondie asked, "Deployed to keep the street clear?"

"The Lancers will do that," I said, "Andras has another map of the tunnels and sewers underneath the city. Including those that lead to the outside. The Guard take the Libertarian mages and set ambushes at the exit points, those that don't exit into the Deep Roads anyway. I have no doubt that the criminals will attempt to use the tunnels to escape."

Andras opened another scroll, smaller by far compared to the general map of the city, pulled the twine off of it and handed it to Louise. The chevalier perused it with interest, clearly satisfied that her part in the affair was to be important.

"Mariette," I started, before correcting myself, "Major de Villars. You will split off a squad of Rangers from Soprano's command, and will join me on a special assignment before we join the Grenadiers for the attack on the red light district."

The harlequin looked at me through her mask, and by its angle, I could tell she was confused at the order.

"You have bardic training," I clarified, "And I need someone I can trust to do the work."

"I can do that," Mariette replied simply, "Shall Ciara be joining us?"

"No," Tam interrupted, "I will."

"As shall I," Andras said, throwing in her two cents.

Neither were people I had planned to take along, but whatever, the more the merrier. Tam wanted to see Mariette in action. Andras wanted to see any of us in action, and she had some idea of what my assignment before the general arrests began was.

"Well, that is the general outline," I continued, getting back on track, "Let's discuss the details quarter by quarter..."

* * *

The hours between the end of the morning meeting and the darkness of the evening were spent getting everything ready.

Julie and my other companions were informed of the plan over lunch. Claire, with little Victoire and Patrice, though they were less little with each passing day. I warned Julie of something being up with Velarana, but she didn't seem aware of any moves the Aequitarian was making. Armen too only had a little more information, that she was recruiting non-mages into the fraternity like had happened for the Grand Convention in the summer. Merchants not associated with war production, mostly. So, nothing truly groundbreaking as far as we were concerned.

As for the plan, I suspect that if Tam hadn't been coming along, Julie would have been afraid for me, but as we were both going, she simply hugged us and let us go without fuss.

Leha didn't want to come along on my assignment, despite her key importance to it. I thought maybe there was bad blood she wanted to avoid, or maybe she just wanted to avoid her past. Why was she so important you ask? Because there was one faction in Amaranthine we really did not want to piss off.

The Carta.

They could have harmed us in any number of ways without ever presenting a front for us to retaliate against. We were going to be reliant on trade, and the dwarven mafia were present in every major trading hub in Thedas outside of the Qun's control since the end of the Fifth Blight. And it wasn't like we could trade with the Qun either.

To our knowledge, the Carta were not involved in any overt criminal activity in Amaranthine, they merely acted as tax collectors and facilitators, using their muscle and smuggling routes to choke off anyone who failed to pay them. They knew the King of Orzammar had a close alliance with the Grey Wardens, and didn't want to step on any toes. But their involvement still meant they would have evidence on absolutely everyone who _was_ overtly involved, and if we shut down those people, those that were receiving payments would end up hurting.

We needed a sit down.

That was to be my dubious first assignment for the evening, before most of our troops even began mustering.

We crept out of Anora's Watch as the Guard were riding out into the countryside via the western gate, all but one disguised as well as we could be. Hoods instead of helmets, kevlar covered up by civilian cloaks and tunics, even wearing woollen pants that were itchy as hell. I kept my boots though, for obvious reasons. We couldn't hide the weapons, save for the short bullpup firelance of Julie's that I brought along, or the radio mouthpieces I had provided. The route we were going to use didn't require us to hide them for long.

Apart from Tam and I, there were the seven or so Rangers led by Sergeant Shovels, Warden-Commander Andras and Warden-Constable Hawke, Andras seemingly having broken Hawke out of her cell for the job, and Mariette de Villars, the only one of us dressed as she might have normally. A dark blue silk tunic dress in a revealing feminine cut, over soft linen underclothes, with hunting breeches under the skirt in case things went south. Like a noble save for the lack of mask and the addition of rougher, more sturdy boots, which suited the terrain we'd be travelling through. She rolled up the skirt for the journey too.

Andras led the way, immediately cutting into a side alley off the outer _rocade_ and into the north west block of the Merchant District.

It was pitch black, windowless walls to both sides with only the fewest of exceptions, and we had no intention of announcing our presence with flashlights or torches. The Wardens knew some kind of night vision spell, but it only worked on themselves. Tam and I had night vision goggles, which left the squad we came with having to congo line behind me. I didn't nickname their sergeant Shovels for no good reason, I reflected as we moved along with his left hand on my shoulder.

The alleys weren't quite the same as a sewer, but I was glad I couldn't see what I was stepping in. Food refuse, most likely, judging by the scurrying of the rats around the place. The city cared more for the main streets than the alleys. I made a mental note to have them purged with magefire, of rats and refuse both. Last thing we needed was disease eating at our ranks, especially after we had been so careful to manage the problem.

The Warden-Commander moved like a cat ahead of us, head on a swivel at each junction with a regular street, dampening spells hazing out the sound that might make it through the closed windows. The locals still weren't frequenting the streets at night, Familiar environment for her, evidently.

"Been here before?" I asked by radio.

"Only once," Andras replied, "But one alley is the same as any other. I'm from Ostwick, originally. There are even more alleys there than here, and that's where I grew up." Ostwick's Alienage, that is.

We crossed underneath a bridge carrying one of the larger streets over our heads, doubling as a drainage ditch, before the alley climbed upwards to level again. I hadn't even noticed the steady incline until then. We were still north of the main market square, and about half way to the north gate that allowed the main avenue to pass into the docks. We made a left turn towards the walls along another alley, and kept going for another block.

Suddenly, Andras stopped midway in a block, before the next main street, and waved me forwards.

"That's the house," she said, indicating a detached four floor house on the left side of the alley opposite, "The doorway leads to the staircase, that's how we get in. Bottom floor is a shop, no way up. Apothecary, in fact. Useful, considering his profession." The sex trade not being without its dangers, requiring any number of medical interventions for any number of ailments.

The building's ground floor face was indeed occupied almost entirely by a large set of doors that ran almost the entire length, which undoubtedly were opened in the day to allow business to proceed. Above the doors was a name daubed on in the dwarven script, 'Wrenfri's Aids'. Along side this were signs of hanging metal iconography, though I couldn't see what the shape was from the angle we were looking at. A far thinner, single door stood at the corner by the alley, almost like it had been added as an afterthought.

I grimaced.

"No other ways up?" I asked, "No way we can take this from two sides?"

Andras shook her head. "Not unless you want to climb," she said, "And that would leave you vulnerable."

"If the stairwell is as thin as that door, I'll be vulnerable anyway," I noted, "No doubt the bastard will jump through a window to get away, too."

Bethany Hawke snickered to herself behind me. "Actually, he won't," she said, "He boarded up the rear windows facing the wall, after the Warden-Commander had people sitting there constantly to watch and listen. I even opened his windows once with a little magic. He didn't appreciate losing his privacy, and flung a chamberpot at me."

"He must be quite a person," Tam said, "For you to go to such lengths, Warden-Commander."

He was the only person who appeared on both Leha's list and Andras' list, in fact. That alone smelled, and so he was getting the honour of being the first we brought in.

"He's the key to the whole rotten lot," Andras replied, "If I could get him talking, I could... Wait, someone's coming."

I hadn't heard a thing, but Andras quickly waved her staff about, and a curtain of haze fell across the alley in front of us briefly, like heat rising off the ground. It clarified, allowing us to see, but the edges of my vision still were blurred in my goggles, telling me that the effect was still in place for anyone looking our way. I gave the hand signal for the Rangers behind me to crouch down at the edges of the walls, an unpleasant place to be for sure but I thought if the Warden-Commander was taking precautions, I ought to.

A group of dwarva came into view as soon as we had settled once more. I cracked a grin when I counted their number as seven. They were all hooded, armed with small axes or long daggers, and wore a mix of chainmail and leather armour that I was very familiar with. Leha had worn a very similar arrangement at the Wolf's Lair, the first time we were there that is.

"Carta," I whispered to Andras, and she nodded. It was good and bad news.

One dwarf, the leader I presumed, knocked on the thin door. The others spread out in pairs, covering the angles of approach and sight. One of which was our alley. Two looked straight at us through Andras' magical concealment, a red bearded male with an axe and a female that spun one dagger on her palm as she gripped the other tightly. How the hell they could have gotten past the patrols and checkpoints, I don't know. Perhaps their hideout was close by.

It was obvious the pair quickly began to think something was amiss. For one, they didn't look down the other way in the alley, even though they could have easily divided the responsibility between them. For another, Twirly stopped spinning her dagger and seemed to tense up. The other didn't betray any feelings one way or the other.

I sighted them with my firelance, being very careful to not do so quickly, ready for them to see through the camouflage and darkness any moment.

The pair looked at each other and murmured, as if asking each other if they both saw what they thought they were seeing. They came to some wordless agreement, and backed off. All the while keeping their eyes on our position. I suppressed the instinct to open fire right then and there; they were moving to warn the others, I thought. And perhaps they were.

But the thin door opened, swinging around and hitting the wall with a loud slam.

That seemed to snap Twirly and her partner out of the trance, and they turned around, sparing glances at us as they did so. The person at the door was yet another dwarf, who bowed slightly and made himself clear as to the authority the Carta leader had over him. They filed inside, Twirly going last, before closing the door.

I let out the breath I had been holding in, both out of the tension of the moment and in preparation for the first shot I had ready to let loose. The excitement drained out of me, and I stood up again.

"Was it just me?" Mariette asked quietly, "Or did those two see us?"

"They saw something," I confirmed, "Wouldn't have acted like that if they hadn't."

"They saw dark shapes," Andras said, "Just enough like a person to be suspicious of, but not enough to raise the alarm about. That's the point of using a Haze spell in darkness."

"Or, they could be telling their superior all about it right now," I growled, "We're going to have to go in faster than planned."

Andras looked at me like I was an idiot.

"Yes, we do," I pressed, "Tam and I will breach the door, and go in first. Then you two mages, protecting Mariette. Doubt we'll have space up there for many more than that."

"I do not require protection," Mariette insisted, in a tone that made it clear she had expected me to think the same, "They require protection from me."

"I know," I replied, "It's the image, remember? You're the important one. We're merely soldiers."

Mariette accepted this with grace, having only wanted to make sure that this wasn't a prelude to me cutting her out of dangerous missions in future. Not damned likely, I thought, she was too handy in a tight spot for that.

I turned to Bethany. "Do you speak Orlesian?" I asked her, "I'm not going to ask if you can passably imitate an Orlesian accent, but even that might be helpful."

"No," she replied.

"Then you'll have to keep quiet," I said, "There aren't any Fereldans in the Free Army outside of the Templars, and you're too obviously a mage to play the part of a Templar. Can't have your accent giving away the game."

Bethany nodded, seeing the sense in that.

"Sergeant," I said to Shovels in Orlesian, "If you hear fighting up there, and anyone other than us comes out of that door or those windows first, shoot them."

"With pleasure, my lord," Shovel replied.

"Okay," I said to no one in particular, "Let the games begin."

Tam and I moved to the front, coming up on the two corners of the alley where it met the street.

I peered up at the windows of the house, seeing that all the shutters were closed. Lanternlight spilled out of cracks here and there on the top floor. There were no shadows among them that told me that no one was looking out, from the lit rooms at least. As Mariette fixed her skirt and Tam unslung the shotgun she had brought, I quickly took off my IR goggles and switched to a thermal sight. There was someone in the darkened second floor near the window, though I couldn't tell if they were looking at us or not.

"Someone at the window," I said, "We're compromised."

Tam nodded, and pointed to the door. I gave the signal, and she got ready to sprint across the street.

"COVERING FIRE!" I roared.

I let loose three bursts into the window where the person had been standing, strobing flashes at the edge of my vision, the bullets thumping through the wood and shattering the glass behind. If it had been the plan of whoever was on the second floor to shoot us with a crossbow as we came into the less pervasive darkness of the street, it had literally just been shot to splinters.

Meanwhile, Tam had sprinted across the street, and seemingly the other Wardens had followed suit out of an assumption that was what they were supposed to do. Meanwhile, Mariette was ringed by firelancers aiming up at the windows of the house, protecting the VIP as they had been trained to do. When I was sure I could move without anyone popping their head up to shoot me, I walked casually over to the others.

"Could have given me some warning," Andras said, having not expected to need to run that quickly, "I'm not actually as young as I look." She was joking of course, and breathed even easier than I did.

"You're a Warden," I shrugged, coming up alongside the door and switching back to my NV goggles, "Tam, if you wouldn't mind doing the honours?"

My Qunari lover's face soon shone with her sharp, vicious smile. She levelled her shotgun at the lock, a huge cast metal thing, and pumped a door breacher into it with a loud bang, not bothered in the least by the recoil due to her strength and size. She rapidly blew the hinges off too, also unnecessarily bulky and crude in manufacture. Confirming that there was no way we could have gotten past the door quietly.

Tam turned back against the wall to allow me at the door, and with a great kick of my heel, the shattered remains of it fell backwards. I rushed in, firelance aiming upwards where I assumed a crossbowman or two would be waiting... Instead, nothing but an empty and rickety looking stairwell, stuffed into a room so narrow that I wasn't entirely sure that Tam could fit inside.

Creaky too, as I discovered on putting my weight on the steps, climbing rapidly, keeping my barrel fixed on the door above even as I moved.

I entered the second floor room. It was a lounge of sorts, with long couches, a fireplace, cabinets, devices for smoking herbs, drink decanters... but none of which were very fine. Or at least, they were the sort of things a poor person might think of when they thought of a rich man's lounge. It was just... gaudy. Nothing a decently successful merchant would be unable to obtain. Perhaps that was the point, so that the owner could claim he was no criminal at all.

More to the question of why we were there, there was a person laying on the ground, bleeding all over the rugs. Twirly, her hood down, revealing tattoos and short brown hair. The tattoos done in a boxy dwarven art style, but it came to me then that they must have inspired Soprano's gang in their own bodyart. Visible warnings of danger.

For that reason, I kept well clear of the woman, crossing at her back and coming along the far wall. She was trying to rip off her clothes, to see the wounds I had given her. It was only after Tam entered and I had walked into her vision, weapon pointed right at her, that I silhouetted myself against what little light was coming from the broken window.

"By the Stone!" she cried, before hurting herself in trying to crawl back away from me. Her eyes went as wide as saucers, in fear and possibly in recognition of what I was. It was far too dark for her to see who I was exactly, and half my face was covered with the goggles anyway.

"How many upstairs and where?" I asked quietly, "Quick now."

"S-seven," she said, "Rogin and Bart up top, the others on the next floor."

Mariette entered, with Andras and Hawke right behind her, lifting her skirt to do it. "Having fun?" she joked.

"Gathering information," I said, before turning to her subordinate, "Constable, heal this woman. She tries to hurt you, turn her into Kentucky Fried Chicken with your mage fire. And remember, no names, and no talking."

Bethany Hawke nodded, though she did not get the then-Earth reference, and moved up to comply with my orders. Soon, the room was filled with a soft blue glow as she worked the healing spells, while Mariette looked on, supervising. I waved Tam and Andras to me with a finger as I made my way to the next stairwell. Carefully, I looked around the dividing wall.

 _Woosh! Thunk!_

A crossbow bolt blew by my head, embedding itself in the outer wall, spraying the back of my hood with mortar dust. I recoiled, cursing like a sailor, pressing myself against the dividing wall on the other side. Assorted dwarven cursing erupted from above, as if in answer to my own. Most ill-advisedly.

Tam came around my flinching self, and sent buckshot up the stairway at the idiot, whom had remained standing there to reload instead of getting back into cover. His corpse tumbled down the stairs, sprawling out at my Qunari lover's feet on his broken stomach, bleeding on both our boots. Twirly made a groan, and I knew at once it must have been her buddy that had seen us, or thought they had.

"And then there was six," Mariette joked, eyeing the surviving dwarf, who shot another, metaphorical crossbolt at the harlequin with a rude hand gesture.

It was a bit hard to feel sorry for that though. It could have been me bleeding to death at the bottom of the stairs. I gave Tam a kiss on the cheek quickly for her work, which she returned.

I stepped over the corpse, and climbed upwards. Warm orange light spilled out of the doorway, so I took off my goggles and gave myself a few seconds for my eyes to adjust. It didn't take more than a few seconds, and I sidestepped onto the next floor.

There was a large low desk, obviously more suitable for dwarva stature than human, and certainly useless to a Qunari. Most of the rest of the space was filled with varying kinds of chair. In one corner, there was a pile of straw filled mattresses, barely able to hold their shape from use. The fireplace was in the same central position as the one below, except it was blazing with smokeless coal, which filled the air with a pleasant carbon scent. The planks had holes in them near where I stood; where my bullets had come up from the floor below.

There were four very thuggish looking occupants, all dwarves, all sat around the desk with a set of cards in hand. Hoods down, tattoos exposed, weapons leaning against the side of the table, ale freshly poured. In other words, they didn't look cowed by the sounds of fighting and killing one bit, and barely registered my presence, save for the one facing directly towards me on a shaky looking stool.

I said nothing, just kept them in my sights. Tam and Andras soon joined me, the former taking off her own goggles, and at last, the rest of the thugs took note. Due to the mage, I suspect.

"Upstairs," said the first onlooker, "They're waiting."

"Throw your weapons into that fire," Tam ordered, pointing with her shotgun, "Now."

The thugs looked to their first for confirmation of the order, but Tam wasn't in the mood. She thundered another 00 buckshot discharge into the masonry of the fireplace behind, and returned her aim to the dwarves. That really got their attention, one of them even breaking his chair in the attempt to scramble away from her aim. Thank you, Mister Benelli.

Axes and swords were tossed into the fire without further delay, leaving Andras curling with laughter.

"Good," Tam said, "I see you are not complete idiots, even if you are criminals." The thugs grit their teeth and grabbed up their cards again, wishing they could do something else.

I went to the front windows, and opened them along with the shutters. I put my forefinger and my thumb between my lips and blew out a long shrill whistle, until Shovels looked up at me. I held up three fingers, and the sergeant understood my order. I saw that a squad of Lancers was making its way to join us down the street too, probably investigating the noise.

Mariette arrived, scanned the room for threats. Finding some that were not yet perforated with five-five-six, she looked at me with surprise. "Sparing them?" she asked.

"They didn't resist," Tam answered, before I could.

The harlequin sighed. "Shall we get this done?"

I didn't reply, but moved into the final stairwell and up. The top floor room had a door, but it was ajar. I gave it as good a kick as I had with the one on the street, cracking it along the hinges but otherwise leaving it on.

Inside was a bedroom, in the same 'lavish' style as the lounge had been. A large bed, with a feather stuffed mattress and fine sheets, stood in the middle of the room against the dividing wall of the stairwell, just opposite the inevitable fireplace which was also in use. There were numerous chests around, mostly towards the front of the room. More tables with drink decanters, and barrels of ale. Fine padded chairs. Handcuffs and whips too.

Inside were three people, one more than I had been informed of.

The one I had expected to be meeting in the house, Bartholomew, easily recognised by his pug face and quivering lip. He was a top-ranking brothel owner, once illegal now supposedly gone legitimate. Andras' file contained much evidence that this was a facade, that he was both a debt-slaver and a human trafficker. It also included a highly accurate sketch, damn near photographic as far as I could tell. It told of the man's cowardice and instinct for survival, equally. Which manifested itself here by the aforementioned sheets being tied together to make a rope, so that he might escape. How cliché.

The second was someone I had been expecting to meet, but later in the evening and at a different place. I hadn't known his name before meeting Twirly downstairs, but this was Rogin. Carta leader in Amaranthine. By contrast to his fellow dwarf, he was leaning against the wall by the fire, with his back to me, an image of confidence. He tossed a small piece of wood into the fire, one he had whittled at with a knife that remained in his hands, before looking at me.

The third was someone entirely superfluous, or at least I thought so at the time. A young elf girl, maybe sixteen or seventeen years old, in a white nightdress. She looked tired, or perhaps depressed, her eyes seeming jaded more than should they have been on any girl that young. A personal concubine, no doubt, of the bastard owner of the house. She also had tied sheets in her hand, no doubt helping her master create his escape method.

I very much doubted he planned to bring her along, but I was happy knowing that whatever she had been through was now over. She wouldn't be staying with her master now that I was there.

As before, Tam and Andras stepped into the room. This time, it was the Warden-Commander that acted swiftly.

She sent a bolt of lightning straight at 'Bart' without so much as a word of warning. For a brief moment, the entire room was filled with white light, and the sound of the electricity ripping through the air was deafening. The target, bastard though he was, fell to his knees and then to his stomach, his blood vessels visible in red through his now-smoking skin. The room's scent changed to that of grilled bacon. Could've been worse, especially if he had voided his bowels. Still wasn't very good, though.

The girl that had been standing right beside Bart broke down crying, in fear at first.

I lowered my weapon and looked at Andras darkly. She had done that entirely because she could, protected by the anonymity of her garb and the assumption by all that she was just another mage of the Free Army. Taking the opportunity to kill one of her problems away. It wasn't the fucking time for revenge, I thought and wished I could say, but that would have blown my cover. And hers, more likely than not. We needed her alive and in good standing, if we were going to benefit from the deal we had made with her.

"Get the Major," I said in Orlesian to Andras, leaving a clue as to my mood on the subject of the killing in my tone, "I'll deal with the body."

The Warden-Commander accepted the command, and escaped downstairs again.

Knowing what I was about to do, the other occupants got out of the way, moving beside the bed. The girl quickly, the other dwarf more casually. Sure they couldn't get at me before I could react, I took Bart's body, still smoking, under the arms and dragged it to the rear windows. Tam opened them, and together, we pitched it out, down into the gutter below. It landed with a wet sound, as bodies do when dropped from the fourth floor onto hard stone. One more thing to cleanse from the alleys with magefire.

"Bodies," Tam complained in Orlesian, "I hate them." I tilted my head in agreement, glad I had gloves on.

Tam waved the elf girl over. Hesitating for a moment, Tam repeated the action, which made it take on the aura of a command. The girl obeyed, eyeing the door. Afraid the Warden-Commander might return. Not named Tamassran for nothing, my lover soon had the girl sitting down in a chair and eating an apple produced from under her cloak, with reassuring words about her safety on top. Soothing the shock of having seen what she had just seen.

Meanwhile, I kept the other dwarf in my sights. He didn't seem to realise I was the commander, which was exactly what I had wanted. He did not even bother to address me, and barely looked at me, preferring to sit in another one of the fine chairs by the fire, drinking wine of all things. Considering his appearance, not much different from the thugs below, this was a little strange. He was also older than the others by at least ten years.

Mariette entered, locking her eyes onto the dwarf immediately. She carefully avoided any sort of deferential treatment of either Tam or myself. Andras did not come with her, probably for the best.

I doubt the elf girl would have reacted well to it. Tam knew it too, and quickly escorted the girl out of the room.

Mariette went to the fireside, and I stood by her side, firelance lowered.

"You've gone to a lot of trouble to find me," said the dwarf, "Guessing you're with the new masters of our fair city."

"I am," Mariette said in Common, "Malika Cadash sends her regards." Her accent was very noticeably less than her cousin's own in Common, all of a sudden. It was almost Fereldan, in fact. Interesting.

"Fuck," said the dwarf, pausing half way through bringing his glass up for another gulp of wine, "That bitch always was vindictive. Fucking Stone take all of House Cadash, Malika first."

I smirked, looking forward to relaying his words to Leha later. She always enjoyed such tidbits.

"Where are my manners. Lady Mariette de Villars of the _Grands-Collines_ ," Mariette continued, ignoring his last remark and curtsying with her skirt, "Major of Intelligence, Army of Free Orlais."

A position she had occupied for less than a day by that point, but a necessary appointment to my mind. She was taking over from Leha in the role, who had more than enough work on her plate besides.

"Rogin of Dust Town," the dwarf grunted mockingly, "Head headsmasher of the Amaranthine Carta."

The imitation of her own introduction did not seem to irritate her, and Mariette settled down into a chair opposite. The dwarf offered an empty glass and the bottle he had poured from. She accepted both, poured herself a glass, but did not drink.

"Well, _Monsieur_ Rogin," she continued, "You are mistaken about one thing. We have gone to very little trouble to meet you. We came here tonight seeking the one called Bartholomew, in order that we might find you and your... organisation. Yet here you are."

Rogin shook his head in disbelief. "Bart lost his shit," he said, "Didn't see the business opportunity in your arrival. Was afraid you'd shut his business down, panicked. Insisted I come over here and help him escape. Came over instead to knock his head in, put some sense back into it. But he was right, wasn't he?"

"I'm afraid so," Mariette replied, "We do not object to prostitution or gambling. We object to the abuses of these things by individuals with no right to interfere in or profit from them. And we respond to such abuses with absolute force."

"Yet you don't want to make an enemy of the Carta, which is what 'absolute force' would get you," Rogin said, "Wouldn't be here otherwise. Or at least, I still wouldn't be breathing."

"The night is young," Mariette joked back.

Rogin shook his head. "Word on the street is you have enough enemies, young lady."

"We do," Mariette confirmed, "Two of the three factions of the war in Orlais, the Qunari, powerful elements in the Chantry and Templars..."

"The Ferelden Crown," Rogin interrupted, "We all saw the King ride in as your prisoner."

"We've made an accord to remedy that," Mariette replied, "Even if we had not, Amaranthine has strong walls and our forces are stronger than the Crown's own. But we have enough enemies, as you say."

" _You_ say you won't allow the business that makes us coin," Rogin said, "Yet you also say you want peace with my associates and me. Only way you'll get peace is to allow the business. How you figure around that problem?"

"The Free Army does not just want peace," Mariette began, "We want your cooperation, we want the names and locations of every person who pays you dues, we want to know exactly how they make their money, and we want records of these payments."

Rogin stared at her for a second, before breaking down laughing in deep tones, almost spilling his wine onto the floor. "You want us to help you put us out of business?" he chuckled, "You must be fuckin' mad!"

Mariette smiled along with the dwarf, pushing a strand of her blonde hair out of her face as she did so. He quickly got a hold of himself once more.

"If we did help you, the bosses would cut my balls off," Rogin continued, more seriously, "And then my head."

"This is not negotiable," Mariette replied, "You _will_ provide the information we require."

"Or what?!" Rogin spat back, "I help you, my bosses kill me. I don't, you kill me. What do I get out of helping you? I'd rather stand with my own kind, if I'm going to die one way or the other."

"The difference is that you won't die tonight if you help us," said Mariette, not phased by his anger, "And you may elude your bosses' wrath if you do help. Death is only certain if you refuse."

"Even if that was true," Rogin replied, "The only place I could live without fear of Carta daggers would be fucking Seheron! And you can't pay me enough gold and silver to live on that cursed battlefield."

The dwarf polished off the contents of his wine glass, and pointed to the bottle beside Mariette. She handed back to him, and finally drank some herself, gathering her thoughts. For the next barrage.

"Tell me," she said, "Do all the criminals in this city pay you dues?"

Rogin froze, as if he had not been expecting the question. She had wounded his professional pride, if the answer was any clue. "No," he said, "No shortage of stubborn bastards in Ferelden. And they're all armed."

"Do you have the information we need on those individuals as well?" Mariette said, "How much they make, how they make it, where they are?"

"We do," Rogin admitted, "Not for sure about how much coin they make exactly, but we know what they do and where they are. Planning to kill them and take their business, see."

"Naturally," said Mariette, rolling her eyes, "What happens if we do clear out this city's criminal underworld with your help?"

"We'll be out of fucking business," Rogin growled, "Then I'll get fucking killed, probably by one of my own men, the whoresons. That's what'll happen."

Mariette was getting frustrated, I could tell by the pull on the edge of her lips. I clenched my fist. I wanted to jump in and point out the thing she was trying to in a more direct way, but stopped. This was Mariette's test, and I didn't want to blow my cover.

"We are only going to be here until just after First Day," Mariette said flatly, "Did you miss Bann Howe's proclamations all over the city?"

"What does that matter?" Rogin replied, "I'll be dead by First Day anyway."

"Consider this," Mariette said, pointing at him, "We clear out those who pay you dues, leaving no one left when we finally are gone. Criminals are like weeds in a garden, they come back. Is that not so?"

Rogin scratched his hairy chin. "Can't deny that," he said tentatively, "Though there'll be a lot of fighting to be had over who gets what brothel, what territory... And a lot of the whores will run back to the Alienage."

"Yet the Carta will be best placed to exploit the removal of so many criminals," Mariette said, "Assuming you are alive to do so."

Suddenly, I was glad Andras wasn't around to hear the conversation, as it took a sudden Faustian route with regard to the city's functioning _after_ we left.

"We would be," Rogin conceded, "But the Grey Wardens rule here. They're big friends with Orzammar, and the Warden-Commander has made it clear she wants to crush our business. The Wardens just didn't have the stick to do it with. We can't afford to piss off Bhelen. "

"I think you're underestimating how much money this could be worth to you," Mariette said, "We are not just eliminating your competition, but also the middlemen. All without you having to swing a single axe into a single head. No trail of blood for the Grey Wardens to follow back to you. Only a river of gold, which you can use to bribe the guard and pay tribute to Bhelen with."

A carefully crafted lie, one that Rogin would want to believe. One I was surprised that Mariette was able to craft so easily.

Bhelen was no fool, even if he was greedy and treacherous. If the Grey Wardens of Ferelden were displeased with him, his relationship with the Fereldan Crown would collapse quickly. As would the gains made largely on the backs of Warden offensives in the Deep Roads. The little empire he had built of the reclaimed thaigs would disappear.

But to an unrefined Duster who lived and breathed the mafia culture of tribute and respect, for whom Bhelen was a hero, this was a good plan that benefited everyone. Except the whores and dice hounds, obviously. The King of Orzammar would have greater power to act independently with more gold, which was what he wanted. The Carta would get a far greater slice of the pie. Rogin would rise in stature too. Amaranthine would see an end to gang warfare. That was the fantasy Mariette had just offered to sell, and the dwarf bought it wholesale.

"So we help you," Rogin concluded, "You eliminate all the pimps and rackets. You leave, we step in, before anyone can get any ideas..."

"That is how it could happen, yes," Mariette said, "If you were smart."

"I thought you said you could not tolerate abuses," Rogin asked, sceptically, "Why would you do anything to help us?"

"We are not helping you," Mariette said, "We are helping ourselves. With the defeat and surrender of the Royal Army, the nobles cannot harm us. The common people fear us. We are Orlesians, we have mages, we have blackpowder weapons. They will not dare harm us. That leaves the criminals, whom we must fight or sacrifice our principles."

"You didn't answer my question," Rogin complained, "You're just perfectly fine with me and mine coming in and taking over once you're gone? Breaking in new whores, getting our hands on all the dice money?"

"We are not tolerant of such behaviour, no," Mariette said, "But we will no longer be responsible for Amaranthine once we leave. And we are confident that the forces of law and order that replace us will be able to stop you."

Rogin snorted again, breaking into a chuckle. "Guards might wear and carry silverite like the Wardens do," he said, "But they don't know their arses from their elbows."

"We thought you might think that," Mariette said, "So, are you willing to gamble that you are right and we are wrong? And accept our offer?"

Rogin breathed out heavily, looking into the fire. "Fuck it," he said, "I'm not willing to die tonight if living is an option. You'll get the information you need."

"We require it now," said Mariette, pulling out a folded piece of paper from her bosom. The dwarf took the opportunity to ogle her thoroughly. She gave a small smile, laying on her natural charms with a spade for extra motivation. She quickly unfolded the paper, and held it out for the dwarf to take. He did so with undue haste, and I blanched realising that he had done so to feel her body warmth on the page.

What a scum fuck.

"What's this?" he asked, looking over what was written down.

"The names and locations of the people the Arlessa believes most important," Mariette replied, "Those operating in Amaranthine that we shall arrest or eliminate tonight. Is the information accurate?"

Rogin scoffed. "No," he said, "Some of it might have been a week or a month ago, but everyone exploited the war to set up new safehouses. Not enough guards around to watch everyone, or even anyone really. Only people you'll find in these places now are small fry. Might be able to get them talking, but by that point, their bosses will have moved again. Out of the city."

"That might be difficult," Mariette pointed out, "With thirty thousand troops in the city, quartered in almost every house."

"I can see that being a problem," Rogin said, "But you'll be wanting to catch the big fish first."

The dwarf got up and rummaged around in one of the open chests, producing more paper, a quill and an inkwell. He wet the quill quickly scratched away at the paper, focus entirely on the work. He wrote slowly and deliberately. Mariette used the opportunity to look up at me from her chair, her eyes dropping its veneer of _noblesse_ for a moment. Asking how I thought she was doing.

I pat her on the shoulder. She was good at this. Better than I was. Quite possibly better than Julie or anyone else, for that matter. The Great Game trains them well, those that survive.

The movement caught the dwarf's attention. Mariette quickly resumed her place, though not before the dwarf had seen her. He continued writing, even more slowly than before as he kept looking up after every word at me. I didn't flinch or make a move away. I just stared back. What was going through his head, I don't know, but I didn't think he had made me as the real leader in the room. More lechery.

"There," he said, completing his task, "That's everyone. Including a few people you didn't have."

"Settling old scores?" Mariette asked, taking back both her own list and the new one.

"Absolutely," Rogin replied with a shit eating grin, "Turning crisis into opportunity is the Carta way."

Quoting someone more intelligent than he was there, no doubt. Though he wasn't wrong to do so. The Carta had risen from controlling district of Orzammar to controlling the smuggling trade across Thedas in only a few years, with the Fifth Blight, the events at Kirkwall and other instabilities helping them every step of the way.

"As you say," Mariette said, "We shall take you into our custody, so there is no question of you being mistaken for a collaborator."

"Probably a good idea," Rogin sighed, "I doubt you'll lift everyone tonight, so they'd be out for my blood if they knew I was helping you."

"Not to mention we still need the documents you promised," Mariette said, "Which you will fetch for us tomorrow."

"To the dungeons then?" Rogin asked.

"We must keep up appearances," Mariette replied.

"Ah well," the dwarf shrugged, rising from his seat, "Not the first time I've been in them. Is this big boy going to take me or what?" Referring to me.

"After you, _Monsieur_ ," Mariette said, "The soldiers downstairs will see to you."

Rogin looked between the two of us, and eyed the bed. I had to suppress a splutter of outrage, successfully keeping it inaudible but undoubtedly going red. The dwarf left the room in good cheer, far better than I might have expected. Once he was gone, I collapsed into the chair left empty by the fire.

"That went about as well as could be expected," I said, leaning back into the leather, "Well done. You were great."

"We still made an enemy tonight," said Mariette, drinking more wine, "The Carta do not like being told what to do, especially under threat of force, no criminal does."

"I know," I sighed, "But this way, the word won't go back that we're seeking to annihilate the Carta. That should buy us breathing space, at least."

"Mission accomplished then," Mariette smiled, borrowing an Earth phrase, "And in less time than we'd hoped." She handed me the papers.

"Mission accomplished," I agreed. She was right too, we had finished an hour earlier than I had planned for.

I poured myself a glass of wine, and sat reading the names, locations, activities of the people we were to intercept. It was quite a list. It included foreigners, locals, individuals of all races including a Qunari, and a Chantry brother of all people. The crimes and amounts thought to be made off of them were no less impressive for their audacity. The Chantry brother staged secret pornographic stage shows for rich nobles, for instance.

The lengths people will go to get their rocks off never again surprised me, I'll say that much. Speaking of getting rocks off...

"My lord... Can I speak on another matter?" she asked, "While I have you to myself?"

When a woman tells you need to talk, it's always a moment of fear and trepidation. This was no different. It could only be about one subject. Putting it off always makes things worse though. So, I looked straight at her piercing blue eyes, kicking down the unease in my throat and chest.

"Okay?" I ventured.

"I did not come to your bed after the battle because I thought I needed to," Mariette said firmly, "I came because I wanted to."

My eyes widened, my image of her shaken. So she hadn't come for political gain?

Very flattering. And started me thinking of what she would look like without her clothes, which was aided greatly by the low and form fitting cut of her dress. That she didn't think of me as a piece of meat to climb onto for advancement was an obstacle removed from making it a reality.

It took a few seconds until my self awareness reasserted itself. Couldn't help it. Very few men could have in my position. But I try to do most of my thinking with the organ in my head, rather than the one in my pants. She could have been lying, telling me what I wanted to hear, though my instincts told me that she wasn't.

"That... is very nice to hear," I said, "Pleasing even. But my romantic life is complicated enough already."

"Is that the only reason you reject me?" Mariette asked, "That it would complicate matters?"

"I have a wife and a shared lover," I said, "And I have to get married _again_ to a woman I've never met, a magister no less, to save everyone else from being stuck in this Maker-forsaken country. Using some trick to avoid it being polygamy, which is what it actually is. Does it sound like there's room for more?"

"Is that the only reason?" Mariette repeated, "I must know."

Suddenly, she seemed so young, asking reassurance like that. In truth, she was young. A good four or five years younger than Julie, as far as I knew. Eight years younger than I was. It was easy to forget, given how she acted normally. But she had been trained since the age of fifteen in the art of exploiting the weaknesses of we poor dumbass men, and it came as naturally as breathing to her.

The reality of her youth wasn't so much offputting, more guilt inducing. If I exploited her youthful … inexperience, I would have felt like I was as big a bastard as the dwarf I had felt like punching mere minutes earlier.

"Yes, it is the only reason," I said, "Like I said in my tent, you've proven yourself willing to sacrifice for me, you're intelligent, and you're damn attractive. If I was free to, I would have no problem taking you up on your... offers."

Mariette gave herself a small nod, smiling slightly. Pleased by my words.

"Then it is not hopeless," she said, falling back into her usual persona, "I can still win you."

"That's not what I said..." I started.

"Yes, it is," she insisted, "The only reason you don't take me right here and now on that bed is that..."

"We have work to do tonight," I interrupted, "The people downstairs might notice too."

That was entirely the wrong line to take, as it implied we would have been loud and energetic enough to be noticed quickly. And I had ignored the complications argument entirely, which Mariette took as conditional dismissal of it. The condition being secrecy. She opened her mouth in mock shock.

"So it's okay if no one finds out?" Mariette shot back playfully, "Don't you realise who you are yet? Your stature prevents such complications from ever sinking you, as it would a common man or even a lesser noble."

"Mariette..." I said.

"I'll win you yet," she declared, "Once you realise that the rules of ordinary people do not apply to you. Just as you are immune to magic, you are immune to their petty social conventions. You were sent by the Maker. You saved me from mage fire using his gifts. And you can have me as a gift too. Or anyone you like." What a dangerous attitude.

She was on a roll. Orlesian social conventions already allowed what she proposed, to be honest, but she knew I didn't hold to them. If I had met Julie and Tam separately, whomever I had met first would have been my lover alone, for instance. That wasn't how things worked out.

I drank deeply, knowing that I wasn't capable of snapping her out of this. And knowing she was right. I probably could have taken almost any one as a lover simply by demanding it, that was the extent of my power.

But there was someone who could snap her out of it, and that someone stalked into the room as quiet as a mouse. Before we knew it, she approached from the door and leaned over to speak near Mariette's ear. I caught sight of the person only at the last moment, and felt a falling sensation.

Tam had heard everything.

"What do you have that is so interesting?" Tam said, "That you think yourself a gift?"

The young de Villars nearly jumped out of her skin, spilling her wine on the floor to the side of her chair, staining it a deep red. She opened her mouth to speak, but found herself unable to articulate her thoughts. She just looked bewildered, caught on the wrong foot.

Tam was quietly amused, standing up again and looking at me.

"Sam, you shouldn't be so flustered by her," she said, "I doubt she has ever had a man at all."

"I have!" Mariette replied, snapping out of her trance.

"Just one then," Tam continued knowingly, "And not one with whom you shared a connection." Again, she was Tamassran, she had a radar for this sort of thing.

Mariette fumed silently upwards. A nail had been hit squarely on the head.

I thought I knew where Tam was going with this. "Are you saying she just has a crush?" I asked. Here I had the impression that Mariette had been a woman of the world, running through lovers like an alcoholic through bottles. Projecting Julie onto her a little, perhaps.

"That is exactly what I am saying," Tam replied, "If we were in the Qun, I would immediately order her to copulate with an appropriate male, so as to cure her of this. It is frustration that creates this behaviour."

"We aren't in the Qun, you cannot order me to do anything," Mariette responded, standing up, "And I do not have a crush."

Tam sighed, her evaluation of Mariette as being annoying confirmed, so much so that it was visible on her face.

"You are right, I cannot order you," she said, "But you should examine your own feelings, before you make the mistake of chasing Sam. Some chase their loves for years to the detriment of their prospects, without any progress, wasting their life. I do not wish that of any one, especially as I agree with Sam in that you have many qualities that would make another very happy."

Mariette's objections to Tam drained out of her. "I thank you for the compliment," she said, "But I am resolved."

Tam sighed with exasperation. "I cannot dissuade you, I see," she said, "I just don't understand why. Sam is not the only one in the world."

"Why is something I will share only with him," Mariette said, "And if Sam is not the only one in the world, why don't you let me have him? You can go find another."

I had my fill of this talk, reaching my limit. It struck me as entirely childish, overly dramatic. I could hear someone else coming up the stairs too. That we were having a heated conversation become too much to ignore downstairs. I stood up.

"Enough," I said, "I don't want you to fight over me. I'm not worth it."

Mariette opened her mouth to object, but Andras cleared her throat from the doorway.

"I hope I'm not interrupting something," she said, leaning her weight on her staff.

"You are," I replied, "But it's welcome. We have all the information we need. Let's get out of here."

There had been enough bombshells for one day, I thought.

* * *

The intelligence we got from the Carta was distributed accordingly. In the end, I decided to hit both the locations provided by Rogin and those Andras had in her files. As they were often close by each other, we didn't require any modifications to the plans. The troops gathered. The city's streets were cut, blocked by checkpoints and our troops.

Mariette and Andras took our prisoners back to Anora's Watch with the Ranger squad. I needed some space from both of them for their earlier actions, I decided. Tam and I brought Bethany Hawke with us, and met up with McNulty and Velarana at the main crossroads. The whole space was lit up by balls of magical light hovering in the air.

When we arrived it was near midnight. The other operations had already got under way. How well those were going, I couldn't tell. We didn't have enough radios to go around. The noise much closer covered up any sounds from the distance.

As for our own little party, the Grenadiers were arranged nearby in skirmish order, supported by crossbows from the buildings. Exchanging bullets for arrows. The flashes of the flinklocks, thudding of the firelances, the smell of sulphur in the air... bad news already. Some of our mages were sending beams of light into the darkness beyond, into the overhung street of brothels.

"My lord," McNulty said on our arrival, "Someone got tipped off. The Row has been barricaded off. But we're ready on this end, and the Highlanders are ready at the other." Bart haunting us from beyond the grave, I suspected. If anyone could have set the pimps scrambling, it was him, being connected both with the Carta and the locals. Not that we ever found out.

"Guess they decided to fight," I replied, "We won't be taking many prisoners tonight if they keep it up."

"Might be for the best," said Warden-Constable Hawke, "We don't actually have all that much space in the keep for prisoners." By which she meant more prisoners, as the ones we had taken from the Hafter were still in our custody.

"They have resisted," Tam said, pointing at the continuing exchange, "And have attempted to kill our soldiers. They cannot expect mercy now.

"Agreed," I said, "Are there civilians in the street?"

"Not that we can see," Velarana said.

"Then use the artillery," I ordered, "Two cannon, one volley of grapeshot, overlapping fire. Don't want to hit the Highlanders down at the other end. That should shatter their barricades without killing too many inside the buildings." Or any. Everything was made of stone or masonry.

"Yes, my lord," Velarana intoned, before making her way over to the Tranquil gunners to relay the orders. Hawke went with her, to observe.

The gunners were soon moving the field pieces into position directly ahead of 'Doxy Row', opposite the barricades of tables, chairs and ripped out doors. The archers beyond began to concentrate on the new threat, but both Velarana and Hawke ran magical barriers in tandem with one another to prevent it. All perfectly executed.

Yet my mind must have still partially been elsewhere.

"Don't worry," McNulty said, "We'll get through that lot and take the whole lot of them."

I found him looking at me with concern. "Do I look that worried?" I said, "Sorry."

"Something else on your mind, sir?" McNulty asked.

Tam shot me a meaningful look. Encouraging me to speak. And I couldn't help myself.

"It's not really the time... but what the hell," I said, "I have a problem with women."

McNulty's eyebrows raised up as high as they could go. "What sort of problem?"

"I don't understand what goes through their heads sometimes," I said, "No offence, Tam."

"None taken," Tam replied, "You speak the truth. Men are also often difficult to understand."

A dastardly smile broke out on McNulty's wide mouth. "Have you thought about trying men instead?" he joked, "Far more simple." His own preferences long made clear to me.

"After what happened tonight," I said back, deadpan, "I'm seriously considering it."

The General of Grenadiers laughed heartily back, and Tam allowed herself to join him. Until interrupted by the developing combat.

The two cannons in front of the barricades roared, filling the air with the whistling of canister fire. Pinging and cracking noises sounded just afterwards, as the lead balls impacted and ricocheted off the flagstones and walls. The barricades capitulated as if a hurricane had blown them over, as did the few thugs standing behind them, turning to a bloody pulp.

The Grenadier lieutenants wasted no time, leading their platoons forward. The echoes of shouts from the streets told the story of a mass panic in the ranks of the pimps and their hirelings, as the first brothel on the corner got its door battered down with the butts of firelances, and more volleys were sent into windows containing the few remaining brave archers. No grenade discharges either, which would have been too costly to the people were trying to save.

"Looks like we win," I said, "And your troops are following the rules of engagement perfectly." Which when in a fight like that, you could never be sure of beforehand.

"No grenades inside the brothels," McNulty confirmed.

"Good," I said, "Hopefully the rats will run down into the tunnels and straight into Colonel de Villars' chevaliers."

"No doubt she relishes the opportunity," Tam said.

Indeed she did, Louise ended up capturing no less than fifty people fleeing via the tunnels in the countryside that night.

The raids on safehouses ended with the death of almost every other person on the lists we had, as well as a number of suspect individuals who weren't. Those without quick access to the tunnels were equally quick to stand and fight, not trusting that they might live if captured anyway. Quite perceptive of them, given that the Carta would be handing over all the documents we need to string them up on any number of charges. Still, there were enough caught alive to require me prepare the planned tribunal anyway.

There were a number that escaped, and we scoured the city streets looking for them, to no avail. They might have escaped on the first night, sensing what was coming and not willing to try their hand at profiting from our soldiers' fat purses. Others definitely stuck around, and were just far better at hiding than the others.

It was the early morning by the time I got back to my bed in Anora's Watch, mentally and physically fatigued. I fell asleep in the clothes and armour I had worn all night, as soon as my head hit the pillow.

* * *

 _AUTHOR'S NOTES: It seems like the naming of the city has caused quite a controversy. Just as planned. Although the three people who stopped following and favouriting the story hours after I released the last chapter probably didn't think much of it._

 _But I think I addressed it well at the start of this chapter. Hopefully._

 _Political shenanigans next chapter. Julie's chickens come home to roost._

 _ **Lord Mortem:**_ _Thanks!_

 _ **5 Coloured Walker:**_ _Ah, but Troy had to steal the most beautiful woman. And the Trojans were the traditional ancestors of the Romans. And she believes that prophecy, i.e. divine providence, is on her side._

 _As for the nitpicks... yeah, dots._

 _ **Transcendant:**_ _Libertalia is very Latin, which in Thedas means Tevinter-esque. Given that Tevinter is a slaver superpower, I doubt Julie would have went for anything that overtly Latin. Added point against it is that when I think of Libertalia, I think of a raider settlement in Fallout 4._

 _New Providence is very … Anglo. Julie is Orlesian. I needed a name that worked in both French and English. 'Nouvelle Providence' doesn't have quite the same ring to it. The English already has too many syllables._

 _Still, there's another name for the country they plan to make that perhaps you'll appreciate more. But you'll have to wait for that. Thanks always for the feedback, either way._

 _ **Noblescar:**_ _Can a name be unlucky? I'm not so sure._

 _ **Sigma-del-Prisium:**_ _Well, considering that Julie fully expects it to be her city versus the world, you can see why she might find it appropriate. The Marches are also in the east of the continent, and Troy was the greatest city of the East._

 _ **Thepkrmgc:**_ _The thematic element was what attracted me to it, to be honest._

 _As for the Witcher story, it's unlikely. I might put out a prologue to gauge interest, but I have limited time as is._

 _ **Wololodewd:**_ _The original concept for this story was a Skyrim one, actually. The information required to master the ASOIAF canon is a little too much for me to digest, though. Too many things I'd have to change that would annoy fans._

 _ **Dekuton:**_ _Never let it be said that Julie is not ambitious._

 _ **Halo is bad ass:**_ _Merci._

 _ **Katkiller-V:**_ _My answer to that comment is contained in the chapter itself, I think haha_

 _Plenty of activity is planned, we'll see how much of it I actually feel like writing. There's an element of 'get on with it' going to come in at some point._

 _ **Zx:**_ _Thanks!_

 _ **Makurayami:**_ _You might have a hard time of it without eyes._

 _ **Lazy Demon:**_ _Truly, you are lazy._


	50. Chapter 50: Triumphus

**Chapter** **Fifty: Triumphus**

The morning after the cleansing of Amaranthine, I had another encounter from the other side of the Veil.

It started off innocently enough, for me at least. I was having a perfectly good dream about living on Earth again, having found a portal back to my world of birth. I had brought Julie and Tam to meet my extended family. My brother and his numerous, swarming kids. Though perhaps I should be less critical of that last detail given that I broke his record by more than double. My parents, whom not even my idealistic dreaming could paint as approving of the whole arrangement. My sister and my niece Little Sam, who was not so little any more and was delighted to meet the newcomers. Though she turned out differently in reality, as some of you dear readers are undoubtedly aware.

No one seemed to remark on the fact that the women beside me were from another world, made so obvious by Tam's horns. It was a strange but happy dream. Shrinks would no doubt have had a field day analysing it.

But it was intruded on almost as soon as it had materialised. Inevitably, the first intruder was an eagle, but not one of the two that had been following us about on our journey since Sahrnia. No, this one was even bigger than they were, and its feathers were jet black. It perched itself on the head of my father's favourite leather chair, the one he had since at least my birth and one I remember him reading on. The eagle just sat, alternating between watching me and cleaning itself.

It made me realise I was in a dream, yet I couldn't control things as I usually could when I had such a realisation. The eagle did not go away or disappear at will. The room or those in it didn't react either to the eagle or to my attempts to get them moving somewhere else. It took some doing for me to come to the point of trying to shoo it away physically, because its claws were as large as the other eagles' own sets. It finally responded to this with a loud call, and my parents' house melted away, revealing the raw Fade beyond. Green stormy sky, floating rocks, the Black City hanging in the distance, my boots getting wet in ankle high murky water; the whole shebang.

And a familiar, masked figure.

"Françoise des Arbes," I groaned, "Baronetess of Ancienmaison."

The woman giggled, raising the hem of her long grey skirt in curtsy and lowering her head, sending her perfect brown curls spilling over the top of her red mask.

"I am honoured you remember me, Marquis," she said, standing straight again, "It has been a long time since we last spoke." More than a year, in fact. The previous occasion had been the same day I had received Ancienmaison as a fief from Pierre des Arbes

"And a lot's happened since," I nodded, "Your relatives got put to the sword, for one."

"Yes, I am aware," she said without emotion, "Their deaths were not easy. As you saw."

I raised an eyebrow at her lack of reaction to the news. Not even a platitude about the death of the Baron and Baroness? Something was off. The spirit I had met before seemed to be the sentimental type, she had given me a visit simply to show me how I had been taken from Earth and thrown through the Fade.

"You don't seem all that shaken up about it," I said slowly.

"I've been dead a long time," the spirit said, with a flourish of her hand, "And I'm sure they're in a better place now."

Both the words and the motion set off alarms in my mind. I didn't believe that she believed what she was saying. That the Des Arbes family were now in a better place or that she even cared. But it was the hand gesture that really did it. It wasn't one that an Orlesian lady would have used, except when being contemptuous of the person she was speaking to. This particular spirit hadn't shown any sort of contempt for me in the previous instance. She didn't seem to be showing any this time either, she was gesticulating without thinking. Which told me that whatever it was, the spirit wasn't Orlesian. If spirits can have a nationality.

I kept my jaw firmly shut, not wanting the spirit to know I had my suspicions. Whether or not it could read my thoughts in the setting I found myself in, I didn't want to show outwardly.

"I hope they are," I said, "The trust that the family placed in me... they deserved better than what they got."

"You feel guilt," said the spirit, "Yet they made the choice."

"The children didn't," I pointed out, "They were murdered anyway."

"The innocent often suffer," she replied, looking up into the sky, "It is the way of the world."

I crossed my arms, frowning. The way of the world could go screw itself. I didn't need vague philosophical ramblings from a god damned denizen of the underworld.

"But on to the business I have with you," the spirit continued, turning her eyes back to me.

The world changed again, the darkened green hellscape slowly ripped away in favour of the red sky of an early morning, hanging over rolling grass pastures. The view of the horizon was blocked by tall hedgerows, but some nearby but low mountains peaked over them from one side. I could see what I presumed to be the ocean in the opposite direction.

The temperature rose too, and the humidity of a summer rolled through me. I pulled at my collar a few times to cool off, but I was wearing exactly what I had been when I had landed on Thedas; full Kevlar armour, combat webbing and radio equipment. Even trying to air myself that way was pointless.

My discomfort made me ask the question. "What the hell are you showing me now?" I asked, "Is this another memory?"

The spirit didn't reply for some time. "No," she said, "This is the future."

I looked around at the fields, cows chewing grass nearby. Which was the only thing that was happening. My confusion only grew.

"How can you tell?" I joked, thumbing at the animals, "Are the cows actually killer robots?"

The spirit laughed, with an effect somewhat like bells tinkling. She had gotten the joke, which got me worrying again about whether or not she could read my mind. Robots weren't exactly a thing in Thedas.

"Patience, Marquis," she said, "You'll see what I mean soon enough."

I blew out a breath through my teeth, much preferring to have an explanation or warning about what was going on. Instead, I turned about, looking for anything out of place. The spirit didn't help things, staring at me rather than looking at anything else. No clues.

And then I heard it. Bagpipes, coming from the direction of the sea.

The tune they were playing seemed incomprehensible at first, but they were close enough. I needed to see the source. I cleared my throat of the humid air and spat, allowing me to break off at a sprint. Didn't bother checking if the spirit was behind me. I tore around the hedges surrounding the field that I had appeared in, and onto a country lane.

The lane connected to a wide road. A tarred road that looked almost brand new. I stopped dead in the middle of it, slapping it with my foot to make sure it was real, surprised to see such engineering. Only thing it was missing was road marks, or else it could have been any country road in rural America. To one side was another hedgerow that seemed to run the length of the route. To the other was an open fallow field, with wild grasses growing all over it, framed by yet another hedgerow.

The bagpipes had stopped briefly, but now resumed, blasting out the _Halls of Montezuma_ with much greater clarity than before. I spun on the spot towards the music.

Coming up the road was a company of soldiers, in the familiar round helmets and Kevlar-imitation armour of the Free Army. Except their weapons were not the firelances that Julie had designed. Nor were they the SA80s or G36s that had come on board the helicopter with me to Thedas, but they were more akin to those weapons than to the flintlocks. They looked like things my grandfather might have used in Vietnam.

The troops were not in parade or close order, but held their weapons at the ready, their heads on a swivel looking for threats to either side of the road. The piper was walking up the middle of the road between the two lines of troops, urging them on.

They were a hundred yards off or so, just close enough for me to notice these details. Was this the Free Army? If so, it was hardly any great revelation that it would be fighting wars in the future. I could have guessed that without having my mind dragged into the Fade and then into the future. I also remembered Armen's warnings about the illusive power of the place. All of it could have been a fabrication, I simply didn't have enough information nor the magical skill to determine if it was or not.

"They are who you think they are," the spirit said, joining me and watching the troops advance, "You molded them in your own image, and they will never forget you."

I glanced at her without turning my head, trying to get a read on her. The mask made it difficult. I needed to test her, to see what my instincts said about all of this.

"What year is this?" I asked. As opposed to the simple green of the Free Army's uniforms, which only about a third of our troops actually wore.

"I do not know the exact date," the spirit replied, as the troops got ever closer, "But in this era, you are already dead. They might be made in your image, fight in your manner, claim you as their forebearer, but they are not your Army. Not any longer."

I hissed the foulest string of curses that came to mind. "What the hell does that mean?" I asked, "Why did you bring me here?"

"Watch," the spirit commanded, in a tone that brooked no disagreement or disobedience.

I curled my fist in anger, frustrated by her complete lack of cooperation. But I obeyed, keeping my eyes on the column. The piper stopped his tune in the middle, just as the soldiers on point came as close as ten yards from me. Something was happening.

The soldiers all turned their heads towards the field-side of the road, a few pointing off at the distant hedges. What they were saying seemed garbled, incomprehensible, like trying to listen to someone talking quietly in another room through a closed door. They were clearly exerting their voices, the volume of their shouting was still high, but I couldn't understand them no matter how hard I strained my ears.

The fighting started with a shriek of a missile, followed by an explosion in the middle of the column. Five or six men fell down, dead or rolling around screaming their lungs out, their bodies bleeding from various places. Those beside them scrambled to help, while the sergeants barked commands to return fire. I ducked down into the roadside ditch, the instinct to do so having been battered into me by years of training and experience.

"They cannot harm you," the spirit said, a tone of amusement entering her voice once more, "Stand up."

Tracers whizzed overhead, stopping me from even considering that order. The soldiers, having done exactly what I had in finding cover, calmly and professionally returned fire. Some with the weapons I had seen earlier. Others flipped bigger devices off their backs, what we now call bazookas. The same shriek that accompanied the beginning of the battle sounded off repeatedly, the smoke trails streaking across the air and into the position of those that had begun the fight.

I felt impotent, powerless, and if this was the future, I wanted to influence it. It disgusted me, made my stomach swirl. I swung my firelance off my shoulder, determined to do something. I took aim and sent bursts into the places I saw muzzle flashes, emptying my magazine three bullets at a time. If I hit anything, I couldn't see.

"You cannot harm them either," the spirit said, all amusement gone now, "You are nothing to them, and they are nothing to you."

"Then why bother giving me this!" I said back with anger, shaking my firelance at her by the grip.

"Everything you possess here is a result of your own self-image," she replied, "Your weapons and armour are a part of who are you, at this moment in your life."

That was different to last time. Last time, I had been stuck with what I had worn to bed. More evidence that this was a different phenomenon.

Still, I wasn't about to just sit around and do nothing. This was an opportunity, assuming it was in fact the future. I reached for my binoculars, which were on my hip, and examined the enemy. If they were fighting the Free Army, they must be the enemy, I figured. Maybe if I could identify them, I could do something about this future, crush the opponent before they even arose. I got my eyes on them thanks to another bazooka shot headed our way, which slammed through the foliage behind me and detonated beyond.

What I saw raised only more questions. The opposing force was armed and dressed almost identically to the one I was beside. Advanced firelances, round helmets, body armour, the works. The only difference was that there were fewer of them, and they were all ghillied up, their camouflage augmented with strips of cloth and pieces of bush.

It didn't help my feeling of being completely out of my depth. I frowned to myself, turning away from the fighting which was going progressively further in favour of the troops on the road. There were more of them, perhaps as much as three times more.

"They've got the same guns, armour, helmets..." I thought aloud, looking up at the sky, "Did we let our enemies copy our technology? Did Leha sell it? I don't get it."

The spirit entered my line of sight, standing directly over me, dark eyes looking down through the holes in her red mask.

"I did not think you so naïve," she said tentatively, "There is another possibility. I am sure you have considered it. You just do not wish to speak it into reality."

I bared my teeth, knowing that she was right. There was one other possibility that explained the similarities in the two sides fighting around me. I opened my mouth to express it, when I heard the moan of rocket artillery. I craned my neck and looked around, just in time to see the warheads drop into the area.

I only saw the blurs as they landed, but the explosions were far larger than the bazookas had been. They rippled from the bottom of the road up to where I was laying, some tearing asunder the grass in the field, some falling behind the hedge and sending branches spraying onto the troops. Most made their mark, more or less. The company was shredded. The troops turned inside out in some cases, thrown about like rag dolls in others.

The explosive forces washed over me, or perhaps through me, without effect. The ground beneath me gave way a little as the last rocket carved a sizeable crater in the road beside me, and I fell into it with a grunt, my eyes shut firmly. That last one was close enough to half blind me. I coughed reflexively from the dust that was floating in the air, even though it wasn't actually there and I wasn't actually breathed. The mixed smells of corpses also came, sending me gagging as I hadn't been prepared for it.

A delicate gloved hand extended in front of my face. I took the spirit's hand and help gladly, and together, I somehow managed to get upright. I blinked rapidly, trying to clear my vision of the afterimages. They cleared up after two or three seconds. As they weren't real eyes, after all.

"Civil war," I said, to the spirit, turning my back to the scene of carnage, "That's what is happening, isn't it?"

"Correct," the spirit said.

"But why?" I asked, "Why would you take me here to confirm that our project to found a country will succeed, only to show me how it might fall?"

"Because it is your fault," came the reply from the spectral woman, "Not entirely, but this conflict is rooted in actions you could take."

My face curled with anger. "How could this possibly be my fault?" I replied, "I'm already dead when this all happens, and I have exactly zero intention of starting a political career. Who are the sides? What's so important that all these people have to fight and die?"

"Your decisions are at the root of the conflict," she said, "Decisions you will begin making very soon." The spirit walked off towards the field, where the remaining ambushers were collecting their wounded and making to march off. She watched them for a moment, ignoring me entirely.

I had enough of the charade and the vague warnings.

"You are not the spirit that visited me before," I said with absolute certainty.

"No," she admitted, crossing her hands over the front of her skirt, "I am not."

"Then what are you?" I asked, "What did you bring me here for?"

"I am not one to squander my investments," the spirit replied, "And you are the first whom might actually succeed."

My jaw worked open and shut at the implication. "You brought me here," I said, "You took me from Earth."

The spirit shook her head. "Not exactly," she said, "The process is natural, an unforeseen consequence. No, my contribution is far less direct, but no less costly. The war is only one possibility, but it is the most likely one to occur. If it does, all that I have done will have been for nothing. So I brought you here to warn you, to show you the result of making mistakes."

Such a response was so vague as to be near useless, but it was better than absolutely nothing, which was what I was getting before.

"You still haven't told me what this future war is about," I said, "What mistakes?"

The remaining troops disappeared into the bush, and the spirit finally returned her attention to me.

"There have been many like you," she said, "But very few ever had children. You are already aware of one instance."

"Tiberius' ancestor," I nodded, "What has that got to do with anything?"

The spirit paused again, before continuing in a lighter, pleased tone of voice. "The Tiberian dynasty is the only one with a continual bloodline running all the way back to Marcus Tiberius Pansa, the first Outlander. Two others had children, but their blood always died within two generations afterwards. The rest perished before getting the chance to settle in Thedas, or did not want children and so found ways to avoid it. Your direct predecessor, Okuba Keijiro, was injured as he arrived, which prevented him from having children."

My mind shot back to the sight of Fraser's men torn apart by the dragon, and the skeletons that we found in the Deep Roads, the English soldiers that had died so far from home. Not hard to believe that many had died before they could... copulate.

"So you're saying it's likely that I'll have children," I said, "And that they will survive long enough to have children of their own."

"Yes," the spirit said.

"And that is the cause of this war?" I said, shaking my head, "I still don't understand how I could be responsible for this and why I should care if I'm going to be dead."

"Your children will wear crowns," she explained, "And you have more than one lover. If you have children with them, it will spell doom for your country. Your grandchildren shall divide and fight wars against one another, the people that you fought to protect will bleed and die, all the values you held so dear shall be violated in the pursuit of victory."

In other words, everything I had done and had planned to do would have been for nothing. Which would be disappointing, but who can truly control what happens after their death? How did I even know the world I was being shown was not some elaborate illusion.

"I don't exactly have a choice in the matter, but to hell with royalty," I said, "Tam wants children, who knows if Julie does, and Aurelia will be my wife so she can make heirs, damn it! And according to a certain magister, the kids will all be walking nukes. You're asking me to choose between my duty to the people I pledged to protect and people I care about."

"You must choose duty," said the spirit, "The others will love you regardless. But in this matter, you must choose Aurelia, if you wish to avoid this war."

That tripped a wire in my mind as to the possible motivations of the entity beside me. I grabbed my handcannon off my hip, and pointed it at her chest. "Alright, now I've had enough," I growled at her, "Titus Tiberius, that better not be you under that bonnet. I'm betting this can harm you, so if it is you, you better come clean now."

The spirit looked on impassively. Either my bet about the weapon being able to harm her wasn't paying out, or she was bluffing excellently. "How interesting," she said, "What makes you think I am Tiberius?"

"You showed me a future where my grandchildren are the cause of a great civil war," I said, "And now you say the only way to avoid it is to have children with Aurelia alone. I'm guessing that fits in with the Tevinter agenda for me very nicely."

"Perhaps it does," she replied, "But the fact remains that you will create disaster if you do not heed my warning."

"If all this was true, why warn me now?" I asked, "I've been with Julie and Tam for a year and a half! You could have been too late."

The spirit remained silent, as if I had been asking a stupid question. In truth, it was. Following through on my own line of thinking brought me to the right conclusion.

"But only now are you sure that I'll even meet Aurelia," I added, "And now, Mariette has shown up. Could even be more potential lovers around the corner. Her cousin's gave me looks too. You think I can't control myself!"

The spirit did not confirm or deny anything.

"Already, this world has changed you," she said, "Before, you never would have considered or tolerated how you behave now. One man, one woman, that was marriage in the faith of your father, was it not?"

Frustrated and hesitant, I lowered my weapon. What she was saying was exactly true. And I suddenly didn't like how far I had strayed from that doctrine. Which wasn't like me. I wasn't some virgin before being dragged to Thedas.

"It was..." I replied, "But too much has changed. Things are not the same."

"Do not deceive yourself," the spirit snapped, "You have fallen. Aurelia gives you the opportunity to redeem yourself, as well as save your country."

It was still a hard sell, no matter how many hard truths were used in the pitch.

"Only if anything coming out of your mouth about this future is real," I snapped back, "You come to me in the shape of someone else, you don't reveal your real face or name, how can I trust you You have _something_ to do with Tiberius, but what exactly isn't something I can guess. That alone makes me want to tell you to go fuck yourself." If I had known who I was speaking to, perhaps I would have been a little more rude.

"As for the rest of it, my soul is my business. If I feel guilty for bedding both Julie and Tam, or for leading Mariette on in some way, that's between me and God."

I worried about that a lot. Whether or not it was fair, what sort of a cock I was for seemingly surrounding myself with beautiful women, what other people really thought about the whole thing. Mariette had been right about one thing, ordinary social conventions no longer applied, at least in the company of my army. Which was why it seemed so dangerous to me. There was almost nothing to stop me acting the _sultan._

The spirit rumbled with laughter, the volume somehow increased by the Fade.

"You have heard my warning," she said, "And I think you believe it."

I pointed my weapon at her, not with intent to shoot but simply to place emphasis on what I was about to say. "I am on the fence," I said slowly, "Whether or not I follow your advice, I still won't like it."

The spirit looked away, to the dead and dying men on what was left of the road. "Even if you don't, I have done what I can," she continued, "You are not the sort to ignore _that_." She gestured to the carnage.

"If you can read my mind, you know I've seen worse, " I said, holstering the handcannon, "But if you want me to follow your counsel, tell me who and what you are. It would go a long way towards me trusting you."

"You are capable of finding out on your own," she said, "If you ask the right person."

"Tiberius then," I nodded.

"He can't tell you," the spirit said, "I am fond of him for... reasons you will discover, in time. But he thinks himself knowledgeable on the subject simply because he found your predecessor and because he has records on previous instances of men from your world being dragged to his own."

"Your kids will wear crowns," I paraphrased in a mocking tone, rolling my eyes, "Christ, reminds me of 11th grade English class. Macbeth. I won't be giving in to any temptations by accepting any crowns, count on that."

"You won't have to," the spirit said wearily, "I see any further discussion is pointless. I shall send you back."

"Good, because I've been ready to shoot y..."

The humidity and heat of summer drained away in an instant, sending me back to the cold Fereldan winter. I sat bolt upright in my bed, furs making way, panting like a dog and sweating like one too. My blurry, half-asleep vision swam in front of me, and my body felt like I had run twenty miles. A piercing headache slammed into my temples. I rubbed them, and got my breathing under control with some difficulty.

"Holy crap," I gasped.

Looking around, I saw that neither Julie nor Tam were in the room. That was a relief. Explaining what had just happened wasn't something I wanted to do. In fact, I was determined to keep it a secret. A quick check of my watch told me why they weren't present; it was eleven in the morning, and both were probably busy. I had slept in. Again.

I got up and washed, proceeding as if nothing had happened to the best of my ability.

* * *

I was ready in time for the daily war council at noon. A welcome distraction.

The council itself was fairly routine, with Julie and Alistair attending this time, and it only seemed to be good news.

The entire city was now in our control. The red light districts and the slums had been cleared of potential dangers. The Alienage was friendly to our cause as a result of the liberation of some of their relatives from the pimps. The merchants had done solid trade with our soldiers that morning, although the soldiers had to go to their shops as the market square had been empty out of fears. Despite quartering troops among the population, there had been no night time murders of Free Army soldiers nor any reported abuses of the residents.

Our supply situation was even better. The Orlesian ships we had captured were set to transport a large shipment of grain, which had been sitting in warehouses on the docks. We appropriated the entire shipment for later use. Fisher also reported that the regiments I had assigned him would be taken out onto the water to catch fish, appropriately enough, in order to begin their training as sailors. Combined with our access to the Fereldan breadbasket, we were eating properly again.

Our civilians' morale had also greatly improved as a result of that, and of the relative safety which we now enjoyed. Markham reported that the health of those with child had visibly picked up, although complaints about the quarters in the docklands had also picked up save for the Free Army soldiers that were on leave due to their condition. I grimaced throughout his entire report, not needing more talk about pregnancies. It had only been an hour or so since the nightmare I had woken up from.

Some of the production lines we had from Hearth were in the early stages of being restarted. Julie did not intend to get everything working again, but the tools for making firelances had been unpacked and would churn out their first test parts with Fereldan materials later that day. If everything checked out, we could count on another two thousand weapons.

Preparations for the triumphal march were also being made. Leha was seeing to the details, even making sure there was enough ale and meat for the city's temporary and permanent inhabitants to enjoy during the event. Bonfires to keep people warm were also planned, an idea out of McNulty's brain. A winter parade was no easy matter to watch, after all.

When all that had been mulled over, the council was adjourned. The King was allowed to leave first out of respect, probably to seek out Andras whom had not been present. I put my own plan into action: Two birds with one stone.

I beckoned for Julie and Tam to stay, drawing the grin of Armen and looks of confusion from Ciara and Leha as they left. I ignored them, and called Mariette de Villars over.

The harlequin, now dressed in Free Army green, saluted perfectly with a warm smile on her face, blue eyes looking up at me from under a fringe of blonde hair. I felt the look on my skin and felt warm suddenly, but not for the reasons you'd think.

"My lord Marquis," she drawled, "What would you have of me?"

I cleared my throat, the innuendo a little too on the nose in my mental state.

"I have an assignment for you," I said, keeping my tone professional, "Of the utmost importance."

"I'll do _anything_ you want," she declared, a little too quickly.

I exchanged a glance with Julie, whom was listening with intent. I could feel the body heat of Tam standing behind me, though I doubted she found the whole thing anything other than hilarious. A sharp set of breaths indicated as much.

"General Velarana is planning something," I said, "I don't know what, but if it's political, that's against the general orders. Military officers are not allowed to be partisan. I need to know her intentions."

Mariette's smile died. "Marquis, my own cousin has political connections," she said, "In fact, she is the leader of the chevaliers. If you think they will stop involving themselves in..."

"That's different," I interrupted, "For one, she's a noble and part of the compromises made in Hearth were that nobles serving in the Free Army were still allowed to run for office and participate in politics."

"Although I will be abolishing that exception," Julie added cheerily, sitting down in her chair again, "Can't have one rule for some people and another for others, now that it's unnecessary." She was testing Mariette with that line.

The harlequin did not rise to the bait, either to object or to agree. "Any leads?" Mariette asked, "I have some idea where to start, but clearly you have some evidence or you would not have asked me to investigate."

"During the last council, Fisher looked to Velarana for permission to accept his new commission," I replied, "I think she offered him a position that would have conflicted with his duties. Fisher isn't good at hiding his intentions, nor are most of the Jaderites. You could start with them."

"Might also want to look into the merchants who aren't involved in army contracts," Julie said, crossing her arms, "I know many of them didn't appreciate being dragged across Thedas due to our defeat. They think the revolution has failed, and will prefer peace to war even at the cost of some of our new liberties." Of course, those who were involved in making guns, clothes, etc for the army were all for more war, and thus were happy to swing their support behind Julie.

"I wasn't aware things were that bad," I said to Julie, "It isn't the Lucrosians, is it?"

Julie scoffed. "The Libertarians and Lucrosians are both solidly behind me," she said, "All the mage factions including Velarana's Aequitarians are recruiting non-mages to their fraternities. They were having meets in camp every night, discussing what should happen to us and how best to settle down."

"That's proof enough that Velarana is involved," I pointed out, "I could strip her of her rank right now."

Our glorious leader shook her head. "The General stepped back from the leadership of the Aequitarians when we entered Ferelden," Julie said, "She can say that she isn't involved and be believed. Besides, she's a hero to the Army now for capturing the King. You would look like you were playing favourites by stripping her of her rank and honour, and I would lose votes because of it."

I grumbled something about that not mattering, the general orders were law. Julie ran her fingers through her long red-brown hair, displeased that I didn't see the danger.

Tam groaned, stepping beside me and resting a hand on my shoulder. "This back and forth is tiresome," she said, "Why would Velarana raise factions against us?"

"That is the one thing we do know," Julie smiled, "Her lieutenants, the political ones not the army ones, are going about talking about peace first and foremost. I don't think it's a ploy. She really wants peace."

"And she believes she can actually win it?" Tam asked, "How?"

"The activists haven't said," said Julie, "Just that peace is what we need."

I scratched my neck, wondering how all of this could have passed my notice. I knew I had deliberately stayed out of politics to the greatest extent I could, I considered the rules about participation as applying equally to me despite my unfairly proclaimed title of Marquis. But this seemed big enough for me to find out about. Apparently not.

"Velarana can't run for office," I repeated, "She's general of mages. Even draws a general's pay, or will from now on. She can't seriously be jeopardising both her position and the respect of her troops just to run for Chancellor."

Both Julie and Mariette looked at me like I was an ass, Julie in a way that showed she found it endearing, whereas Mariette seemed surprised I could be that naïve. It was the latter that answered me.

"She doesn't need to run," the harlequin explained, "She can just get her seconds to stand as candidates instead, and still win the election. The Chancellor is chosen by the Assembly, and the members of her faction will be more loyal to her than whoever she chooses to be her puppet."

Mariette turned to Julie. "I believe I have enough to start now," she said, "I will begin inquiries immediately."

"Don't come back until you have answers," I said, a little too harshly, "The triumph is tomorrow, I'd like to know what she is doing before we give her a champion's crown." I felt bad about going too far at once, but she took it in stride. Something was visibly wrong with me that day, I realised. Maybe I grunted once too often during the council session rather than answering with words.

"It will be done, my lord," Mariette curtsied, "I swear it." She spun on her heel and exited the room, stepping around the table and out the doors.

Thanking the Maker that she was gone, and likely would be for a few days at least, I sighed loudly and went to the large windows overlooking the harbour. Looking at the bobbing ships seemed relaxing, from a distance. Something I had discovered while waiting for the council to convene.

Julie and Tam joined me.

"Are you good?" Julie asked, worriedly, "You were like a bull today. Irritated." Not that I had noticed.

I blew out a breath, not sure how to explain. Telling them the whole truth would have caused any number of problems. I didn't have enough information to tell whether or not the dream or communication, whatever it was, had any truth to it. Until I did, both Julie and Tam had enough on their plates.

"No, I'm not good. I had a terrible dream," I said, "There are worse things, I'll get over it by tomorrow."

"I should not have let you sleep in," said Tam firmly, as if it had been her idea. No doubt Julie had told her to leave me be.

"Maybe," I teased back, feeling better at their worrying, "But I'm not sure you could have woken me even if you wanted to. It was that sort of dream."

They seemed to accept that, mostly. They pointedly did not move off to go to whatever their next engagement for the day was. They stuck around instead, staring out of the window. Waiting for me to do something. Probably waiting for me to tell them what the dream was about. I felt a mild surge of panic at the notion, but my mind quickly found a curious diversion.

"Can she win?" I asked suddenly, looking down at Julie, "Velarana. I mean."

Julie hmmed and hawed for a moment. Had she not considered the possibility seriously before? It certainly did seem to just come out of the dark, at least to us.

"No," she said at last, returning my gaze, "Supporting me, I have the Libertarians, the Lucrosians, the war manufacturers, Grand-Cleric Brandon, and Peacekeepers. Including _the_ Peacekeeper. Velarana can probably swing the Aequitarian mages entirely behind her, but how well that translates to votes, I don't know. The Isolationists and the traders are probably for her, if peace is what she intends to offer. Aside from that, she isn't personally running and can't be seen to be involved, whereas I can be at the forefront."

Julie smiled widely. "I _will_ be High Chancellor again," she said with certainty, "Although I might have to bend on some things, the revolution will continue. Always forwards."

"Even if the speed changes," Tam agreed, "Though I have to admit, the idea of peace is appealing to me."

"If only it was realistic," I said, "I really do wonder how Velarana plans to make it happen. The Qunari still want me, and the alliance with a Tevinter dynasty will only intensify that. There's a reckoning to come from the Chantry, or I'm not a betting man. And we'll probably piss off every noble in the Free Marches just by existing."

"Another reason she can't win," Julie said, stretching her arms up into the air, "Her proposals look unrealistic, even next to mine." A rare admission that she might be overambitious.

"Good," I said, "Only thing to worry about is whether or not the General is following the rules, in that case."

"I'm more worried about your sleep," Tam said, wrapping her arms around me from behind.

Julie joined the cuddle, slipping her hands around each of our hips. " _Don't_ worry about that," she said, "We'll tire him out tonight. He'll sleep like a baby."

An unfortunate choice of words.

* * *

My favourite blacksmith and my favourite ex-tamassran kept their promise, and I did indeed sleep like a baby despite the concerns planted in my brain by the Fade creature that had invaded it. There was no repeat performance of that invasion, and if anything, the experience before I fell asleep soothed me to the point of thinking the warnings were entirely false.

How could I possibly say no to either Tam or Julie if they asked me for what would supposedly bring down the country? Mariette and whoever else was a different matter, but those two? I couldn't bring myself to deny them anything I could give them. Not least _that_ expression of love and devotion, which is eventually expected of most people.

As such, I was an increasingly good mood on the day of the triumphal march. A stunning turnaround, even for me.

I started off refreshed in the early morning, and set about organising the troops for the event, leaving my lovers in bed. They deserved the rest. It was an overcast day, with very little wind and no rain. The last warm snap before the snows, Andras informed me when I met her to begin the final preparations.

Large braziers and bonfires had been placed along the route as planned, the local gendarmes and our troops within the city itself blocking off the main intersections. The taverns were prepared to do a large amount of business, and their profits for the day would be exempted from tax, making everything cheap. The brothels, now run by their workers, were also exempted, but on a permanent basis.

In short, everything was designed to promote an atmosphere of celebration and reconciliation, while still keeping our own military superiority in clear evidence.

Seeing it all come together, I knew it would go off without a hitch. Ironically, that fact was precisely what helped undo us later, for two reasons. One became clear that very day, during the triumph itself. The other only later, the high expectations we created with the spectacle coming back to bite us.

It was almost midday when the procession began gathering outside of the gate of Anora's Watch. Aequitarian mages, chevaliers, elven lancers, Grey Wardens, horseboys, drummer boys and fife players. All dressed in clean uniforms and furs. All preparing their equipment or horses, the banners being unfurled and held at rest. A cacophony of horse hooves on stone, murmurs and chatter, and occasional shouts for this and that. In the middle was the King's party, Alistair looking embarrassed if anything. After all, he was the trophy on display for the event. Bethany Hawke just looked bored, fiddling alternatively with her hair and her staff.

I watched this as I was preparing Bellona alongside Armen, Ciara and Leha, whom were preparing their own mounts. Julie and Tam had disappeared with Andras for the moment, though Revas and Fritz were standing beside us, waiting for their riders to return. It was a great opportunity to talk to Armen, whom had been MIA for the intervening time between the war council and the parade muster.

"Hey," I called to him, "You know about Velarana?"

The Libertarian cocked an eyebrow. "I know you have the prettier of the two de Villars nobles nosing about, looking for dirt on our General of Mages," he said, "She came to see me after the council, for names of Aequitarians she could..."

He paused, searching for the right phrase. Ciara provided.

"Pump for information?" the Dalish huntress chirped.

"That," said Armen, with a shrug.

Leha snorted. "That one isn't as seductive as she thinks," the dwarf said, "Doubt she's getting anything out of those named individuals."

"I think you're underestimating how stupid we males can be," Armen replied, eyeing at me, "When presented with a beautiful young woman, who is only asking some small thing in return for a promise of so... much."

Ciara looked daggers at me, catching on to his meaning. She knew Mariette's game only too well.

"Don't worry, I've got plenty of motivation to keep her away," I said, truthfully enough, "That's why I put her on this assignment. Should keep her busy for a while."

"Now you're underestimating her resourcefulness," Armen frowned, "And it's not like Velarana, the old bag, is some master of intrigue. She's competent at best. Against someone with bardic training, her secrets are open."

Curious, I looked across the street to where Velarana was standing, speaking closely with three other Aequitarian mages, the hilt of her spirit blade in her hand moving as she spoke. She looked like she was concentrating. I wondered if she was speaking about the investigation at that moment. My musings, and an idea to simply go ask her, were interrupted by the sight of Julie, Tam and Andras.

Julie and Andras appeared as I had expected them to. British Army uniform, kevlar, bullpup firelance, and beret for the former. Silver griffon necklace indicating the rank of Warden-Commander, Grey Warden robes and a staff for the latter. Furs over the shoulders of both.

No, it was Tam that surprised me. She was dressed in much the same way as Julie, at least as far as the kevlar and furs. She had the shotgun as her weapon of choice instead of a firelance, having grown fond of it during our previous mission, but that wasn't the substantial difference. No, it was the same silver griffon necklance as Andras' own around Tam's neck that was the big news.

It could mean only one thing.

"You accepted," I stated, as the three approached.

"I did," Tam nodded, "The others finally decided they wanted me. Discussed it all night."

"There wasn't much dissent," Andras confirmed, "The main question was whether or not she really wanted the job."

"I'm a Warden now whether I like it or not," Tam said, "It's a great honour to be asked to serve."

"Gives you more status too," Julie added happily, "Which you more than deserve."

Tam waved that off, never one to care about rank in that way.

"Well then, we owe you congratulations," Armen said, bowing at the waist to Tam, "Warden-Commander."

Tam gave a laugh at his insincerity, and ruffled his hair. "Thank you, Armen," she said. She offered me a piece of parchment. Not sure what was on it, I took it and gave it a scan.

"Endowment of the rank of Commander of the Grey," I read aloud, "Upon Tam Hunt, to take command of those Wardens Joined from the ranks of the Army of Free Orlais, and the realm it controls..."

Tam _Hunt_ it said.

It had never occurred to me that Tam didn't have a surname. And now, she had chosen one. One I had absolutely no doubt was chosen due to the impeding arrival of a Tevinter magister. Tam looked at me with her big violet eyes, searching for approval. After all, she had taken my name.

I sighed, shaking me head, and gave a small nod. She breathed out, with relief if I'm any judge. She hadn't been sure if I would in fact approve. As I'm sure the readers of this text are aware by now, that was a silly thing to get twisted about. Although, my mind did briefly return to the warning of the night before last.

"I wonder what the First Warden will think of the whole thing, when the Order gets that document," Andras said, "Lucky us that communication with Weisshaupt is difficult."

"I'm quite sure I don't care," Julie declared, "We have enough Wardens for a separate legion of the Order, and we needed a Commander. Weisshaupt will want our weapons, they'll do nothing."

"One hopes," Andras said, "I better take my place. See you at the keep afterwards for drinks?"

"I hope so," Leha declared, "I still haven't talked to you about payment for the weapons we'll be providing you, and I think I'll get a better deal for us when you're drunk."

"You can certainly try," Andras said wryly, "I'll get Hawke to conjure an illusion of some pretty boy, just so everything is equal."

"Please do," Leha grinned evilly.

The Warden-Commander of Ferelden wandered off towards the King, giving us a wave as she turned her back to us and leaving the future Warden-Commander of Troy in our care. I looked on, very glad she was the person in charge of Amaranthine. I only wished we could have had more time with her, oddly enough. That we'd likely never see her again after departing Ferelden's shores struck me at that moment as a great pity.

Of course, what better moment of reflection for Mariette to interrupt, storming through the horses at a sprint, dodging and pirouetting through the groups of soldiers. At first, I didn't recognise her, as she was dressed in a tunic and hood in restrained colours, something you might see a merchant wearing. But the hunting boots gave her away. You didn't see merchants with hunting boots in ornate Orlesian style, not even in Amaranthine.

She skidded to a halt in front of us, exhaling heavily.

"Marquis," she said, saluting, "I have your information."

Damn, she was good, I thought. "Excellent, Major," I said, "Report."

"The General is not breaking the rules," Mariette said rapidly, "She plans to lay down her commission and rank, and stand against the Marquise in the election."

I was nearly dumbstruck. It seemed both out of Velarana's character and a gross dismissal of the great honours piled on her by me personally, not least the triumph we were about to celebrate.

"She's going to quit the Army?!" I half-shouted, "But she's never shown that sort of nerve before!"

"She captured the King, Sam," Armen growled, "And she's always been interested in leading. Until now, it was just the mages she wanted to lead. I guess she got more ambitious."

"And we're about to give her the best start possible," Julie said, incredulous, "This entire day is about praising her leadership and daring. I don't believe it..."

"The election is not for a month," Tam said calmly, "And you still hold all the support you had before."

"In theory," Julie nodded, "But now, it's an actual race. Not a matter of slapping her cats' paws down. I was hoping to run a quiet campaign."

"Impossible," Mariette interrupted, "She plans to challenge you in front of people, about your ideas for the new realm."

That sounded familiar. In fact, it was common practice back home. "Debates?" I asked, "She wants to do debates?"

"Like in the University?" Mariette asked, "Maybe? I don't know what was meant by that, and I couldn't ask without revealing my intentions."

Tam cleared her throat loudly, and tilted her head in a certain direction. We all looked, wondering what she was doing. Speak of the Devil and he shall appear; Velarana was making her way calmly towards us, alone. Her stare was locked onto me. She knew that we knew, and I had mixed feelings about that.

Closing my fists, I stepped around my companions and met Velarana in front of them.

"General," I said, with all due courtesy, "Is there something you want?"

Velarana looked over the others, her gaze remaining on Mariette longer and staying on Julie for far less time. Wise in the latter case, as I was sure that Julie was close to having a Hiroshima moment.

"I would like you to ride with me," the Aequitarian finally said, "I would like to discuss the topic I wished to bring up before, in the council session when we planned this parade."

Julie wasn't the only one who might have gone nuclear, and I had to put a lot of effort in to not explode at the mage.

"I'm sure you do," I said, careful to keep my tone ice cold, "Now that I know exactly what you're planning."

"You do not know," Velarana replied quickly, "And besides that, it's my right as a citizen to do what you have heard about."

Which was absolutely correct. It was her right.

"But you are the true power of this Army, Marquis," she continued, "At least until we are fully established in our own settlement. I would like to explain my intentions as far as I can. I need you to know that my plans are not ignoble."

I stayed silent, not sure what to do. I got the distinct buzzing feeling in the back of my head when some place in my mind thought I was being manipulated. But her words were appropriate and well chosen. Very much so. Maybe that was why I was so suspicious, what she was saying was perfectly reasonable on the surface. Luckily, there were people with greater political acumen than I had on hand to help.

I looked back at Julie, and raised my eyebrows in inquiry. As well as asking for permission.

"Go," Julie said, without a moment's hesitation.

I turned back to Velarana, and grabbed Bellona's reins. "Lead on, General."

She did as commanded. I joined the Aequitarian ranks for the parade.

Midday itself signalled the beginning of the march. We lined up in front of the gate to the docklands, the bands made their way to the head of the formation.

The drums and Dalish fifes struck up _Dixie_ and we started through. Blondie's chevaliers first, the King's Party and my companions after them, and finally, Isewen's lancers as the rearguard. Our civilians and the troops on leave cheered our passing from the docks and the warehouses by the ships until they could cheer no more, the Jaderites doing so from the masts of our ships. The band strained to put out _Garryowen_ loud enough to be heard over it all, maybe fifteen or twenty thousand people cheering along the entire route. As we reached the junction for our turn onto the main avenue, the other officers were waiting.

"Eyes... left!" the sergeants shouted.

The mages turned their heads left, and saluted. Admiral Fisher, Generals Soprano, McNulty, and Mike, and the majors of the line regiments saluted back. The others waved back in their own ways, Grand-Cleric Brandon, Knight-Commander Barris, Knight-Master Markham, Amund the Avvar Sky Watcher, the First Enchanters of the Isolationists and the Lucrosians Valle and Marable. The column made a smart right turn, down through the warehouse rows and through onto the main avenue of Amaranthine.

In this part of the march, the cheering didn't start until the Theirin mabari banner passed by the bonfires and barricades at each street branching off, and got a particularly raucous reception at the main crossroads. The windows overlooking the avenue were packed with onlookers, and the rooftops above were lined with watchful firelancers, cradling their weapons and observing all that happened.

Velarana had remained silent until that point, keeping to waving to the masses with a very convincing smile instead, but now deemed it right to speak.

"I'm going to resign tonight and challenge your lady for Chancellor," she said, out of blue, "Because I think she's going to get us all killed if she isn't stopped. I will be forever grateful to her for giving me shelter from the Templars, and I believe in much of what she has created with this army and in Free Orlais. But she always pushes too far. She wants to spread these ideals across Thedas, and everyone knows it. While she remains our leader, we will never have enough time to gather strength."

I wasn't so naïve to think I could put the Free Army up against the entire world and come out on top, but I didn't think Julie was either. Whereas Velarana was being naïve on one pretty huge issue.

"You want peace," I replied, "Our enemies don't. If we back down, they'll take advantage."

"I disagree," Velarana said, "The beginning of a true civil war in Orlais has left us as a lesser concern to the Empress, if we are a concern at all. We have peace with Gaspard, for what it is worth. The Mage Rebellion will turn to full scale warfare soon, I can feel it. That will give us still more breathing space. The opportunity to settle in the Marches without provoking hatred will exist but only for a brief moment, and if we do not take it, we may be scattered and destroyed."

"You forgot the Qunari," I said, as we cleared the main crossroads.

"I want peace," she replied, "I didn't say I wanted disarmament. Quite the contrary. I intend to improve the state of our armed forces. But I will not use them to attack people whom otherwise would leave us alone. I know the Marquise finds tyranny unacceptable. I find it acceptable as long as it is not applied to me, and those living under it can flee."

"Julie has learned from what has happened," I said, "Notice we aren't overthrowing the Fereldan monarchy, we're sending the King back to his Queen and his capital with his head still attached to his neck."

"She's Orlesian," Velarana smirked back, "She believes Ferelden hopeless in either case."

I frowned, because that was the truth too. Deciding I needed to change tack, I nudged Bellona closer to Velarana's horse. What I wanted to say was more delicate. "Do you believe the Chantry will accept a mage as the head of a realm?" I asked, "No one among our number would blink at it, of course, but..."

"I have a plan to deal with that," Velarana said with confidence, "Needless to say, I believe the Chantry will be satisfied with the safeguards I intend to put in place. Otherwise, I would not have made this decision."

That sounded just as ambitious as Julie plotting to overthrow the entire nobility of Thedas, which was admirable in its own way but didn't make Velarana sound like the steady hand she clearly saw herself as.

The band started on _Preussen Gloria_ , which got a response from the crowd, particularly from the kids. I was surprised that parents had brought their children at all, but I had underestimated the goodwill I had generated from taking out the scum of the city in a single stroke. The thought brought me to the next question, as clearly Velarana wanted to cultivate my own goodwill towards her.

"What do you want from me?" I asked.

"Two things," the mage said, "The most important is that I need to know that you will respect the result of the election. I know you love the Marquise. You support her plans. I do not wish to end up dead or imprisoned because you don't like the way people voted."

I took genuine, fiery offence to that.

"I killed men for democracy before I ever came to this world, General," I spat, keeping my voice low enough that we might not be fully overheard, "Don't talk shit when you should know better. Order me to do something criminal or try to remove me as head of the Army because you want to give someone else orders like that, then I'll kill you. Without hesitation. But not for winning the election."

"I'm glad to hear the anger in your voice, Marquis," she said, actually sounding pleased, "I believe I can trust you to respect the will of the people now. I didn't before, not completely."

"What's the second thing?" I asked, wanting to get it over with more than before.

The mage pressed on. "I want more access to your library," said Velarana, "All of it. I believe my solution can be perfected with ideas from the realms of your world. Innovations that meld the interests of nobles, Chantry, mages and commoners surely exist in the books you don't let most of us see."

I did not think that was true. I believed such a compromise to be impossible, or at least one that satisfied absolutely everyone to be so. And I was right about that. But it was a small request made in earnest. If she had remained a General, she would have had access to the books from Earth as a matter of course, but she intended to resign, cutting herself off. There were some things I didn't want her seeing, though.

"You can have access to everything except the books describing military technology in any detail," I responded, after a minute, "You're not getting the formula for blackpowder."

"What I want to see is history, not technology," Velarana said, "For a more permanent solution to our problems. I have my own ideas, I want to see if they were tried before."

"Earth is not Thedas," I said.

"Of course, but humans are humans," said Velarana, "It will help." I was acutely aware that she was an elf, but she had never shown any sign of embracing this identity.

She said this as we finally exited the city, and passed through the outer slums. The column drew up into a wide formation once we were clear, and the King's party drew opposite it, the road to Denerim wide open to them. Alistair and Julie exchanged words that I couldn't hear at the time, but according to Julie's recollection, it amounted to both sides exchanging words like "Go in peace, but if we ever catch you, mercy is unlikely because our reputation is at stake." Alistair being more tactful about it than Julie was, without a doubt.

Of course, we would meet Alistair again, at Redcliffe Castle in 9:41. Anora too, in fact. The circumstances would preclude any notions about our relatively petty dispute, though.

The King of Ferelden and his guards rode off, and the triumphal regiments watched until they could no longer see their former captive. We had no idea if another army was being raised to try and take the city back from us. If us letting him go would curtail that, or encourage it. It was a huge gamble.

But all I could think about was the fact that Julie was going to be utterly furious, at Velarana for her audacity and perhaps at me for going along with it. Compared with that, another Fereldan attack seemed positively inviting, because at least I could use cannons against the Fereldans.

Maybe I wouldn't have to worry about destroying our country in the future after all, because I might not come out of this with everything intact.

* * *

 _AUTHOR'S NOTE: Lots of things here._

 _Another major character revealed, one planned since the beginning, albeit nameless for now._

 _Some of the aforementioned plot relevancy of the 'harem' making itself evident here, for which I might be punished. Harem stories always struck me as very naïve in their assessment of the realities of sex and marriage, particularly in a world of dodgy contraception. The added dimension of politics only further complicates matters. Since this has more or less been classified in that genre by many at this stage, I thought a little reflection on all that fit the story nicely._

 _Velarana's plot, or part of it, coming into the light with her new role as leader of those opposing Julie. She was also always planned to take this role._

 _And of course, the shadow of Aurelia's arrival hanging over everything._

 _Overall, I'm quite satisfied with it and I hope you are too._

 _ **5 Coloured Walker:**_ _Dots are a laugh._

 _ **Thepkrmgc:**_ _Indeed he does. Velarana has lots planned. More than Sam knows as of this chapter, certainly._

 _ **Dekuton:**_ _Thanks!_

 _ **Meatzman2:**_ _Indeed it was._

 _ **Makurayami:**_ _Bhelen's been able to overturn their exile, but hasn't really been able to entice surface dwarves back. The money to be made on the surface is a huge draw away from Orzammar, and the kingdom is still stuck in a Forever War with the darkspawn, in which the casteless are now part of the fight as auxiliaries. As for Leha's people, they'll be featuring heavily in the next volume._

 _ **Viper:**_ _I'll try to!_

 _ **Katkiller-V:**_ _Most of the relatively sedate chapters are set-up for more dramatic ones :P_

 _The Qun have not forgotten, I can assure you of that._

 _ **Alpha909:**_ _I have a great appreciation for binge-readers of my work, thanks!_

 _Unfortunately, the Templars can't have been founded by an Outlander because of how the Outlander 'powers' actually function... but that's waaay in the future explanation wise, so you'll have to be patient._

 _ **Vendicor:**_ _Admittedly, I was sceptical that anyone would want to read this at first, but I'm assured it's interesting by a good enough number of people for me to believe it by now haha!_

 _Luck is always appreciated._


	51. Chapter 51: The Promised Land

**Chapter Fifty-One: The Promised Land**

To say that Julie was angry about Velarana's action to challenge her for the leadership of what remained of Free Orlais would be an understatement.

The Aequitarian leader publicly announced her resignation as a general of the Army and the start of her election campaign at the triumphal feast in the ballroom of Anora's Watch. In front of all the officers, as well as the remaining local leadership. Including a very bemused Warden-Commander Andras. The ale, mead and meat seemed to sour to the taste afterwards, and I found myself unable to continue enjoying them. The same was true of a great many present, including two of our three remaining generals.

Not that Mike would ever have turned down mead on account of poor atmosphere. Others saluted the race to come, those with no head for politics or without a dog in the fight. Andras and Hawke among them.

Julie was incandescent that night, pacing about our rooms with a look of pure fury on her face. She had borne what she saw as a public insult with incredible grace, her talents as a politician flowering at last. But this display didn't last long. She walked about for less than half an hour, before making a quick trip to Leha's room, directly opposite ours, speaking to the dwarf in hushed but rapid words. She made another to Armen and Ciara's room, but we couldn't hear a word of that.

The next day, Armen formally ceded his place as leader of the Libertarians in favour of Julie, and Leha was announced as leader of the Lucrosians in full equality with Valle.

The time of the fraternities as purely magical factions had already ended, for us at least. However, it was unprecedented that a non-mage would even share leadership of a fraternity, never mind take over completely. But it was also inevitable. People had already started joining them as associated members, subscribers to the philosophies that each fraternity was in favour of. Now, their express purpose was the promotion of these philosophies, rather than the interests of magic.

The event formalised what before had been simply an informal alliance. Julie gained access to the most organised group of political activists anywhere, as the Libertarians had to be in order to survive the varying degrees of Templar hostility that existed across Thedas. Even in Circles where Harrowed mages were allowed to live outside the tower, which was the majority, Libertarians had to band together to make sure that privilege was granted to any of their number. Organisation was utterly vital to them, and now that talent was in Julie's hands.

Leha joined the Lucrosians in order to make the same happen with that fraternity, but in truth, they were her true political home anyway, being the advocates for increasing the wealth of the realm, via their own first and foremost. The Lucrosians were a great deal less organised than the other fraternities; before Leha's leadership, almost no one outside of the enchanting or arms manufacture businesses had joined them. That changed rapidly, and the merchants were dragged into a state of organisation at last.

The campaigning began, especially once the printing presses got moving about a week and a half later. The majority of our people were significantly more literate than the host population of Amaranthine, the result of efforts of Cleric Brandon's predecessor, as well as our own compulsory lessons via the Army. Soldiers needed to be able to read written orders, it was a requirement for any sort of promotion beyond the rank of private. And privates were paid just a little more than a labourer would have been.

The pamphlet war was one area in which Julie had a decided advantage. She was a better writer than Velarana. Kept on point, didn't descend into too flowery language. She also used image prints on the back side of her materials, which did helped the understanding of the still-significant numbers of people whom could not read well. Latin script made things easier, both for reading quickly and printing.

But it was clear that Velarana had the advantage in morale terms. People were sick of fighting, sick of marching, and now, sick of living in homes that weren't their own or in tents pitched inside warehouses. And now, they were saying so. Even in the Army, discontent was on the rise. Julie knew this, but had calculated for it.

The main result of that is best talked about in the next chapter, which shall deal with what happened when Julie finally met Velarana in public 'on the issues' as some used to say. However, for the first three weeks of the campaign, she would keep up the public relations and reserved the harder hitting points for the main event.

Annoying for me was the seeming creation of journalism alongside the new spirit of civic engagement. The journalists were mostly the printers themselves; neither Julie nor Velarana could afford to buy all the dwarven printing presses available. Well, Julie could have, but wasn't willing to. She also could have made machines if she had the time, but she didn't.

Given the huge success of _Le Sens Commun_ back in the Dales, two or three groups of investors had bought a machine a piece, and were now employing young men and women to chase various people up for answers. The investors quickly recouped their losses in the months following, but they were more interested in shaping public opinion than in the strict bottom line.

Mostly, as all journalists do, they printed hearsay and garbage. But they were more careful than what I was used to. Outright lies and character attacks weren't their business.

Why? Defamation and slander were a criminal offence. It always had been in Orlais. Part of the Game, really.

Get caught speaking about something verifiably false in public, and that was uncouth at best. But it wasn't a crime if you didn't get caught. Just like murder was illegal but bards went about killing anyway. Mostly, it was peasants or merchants who ended up in prison or forced labour for bringing down the reputation of a noble.

Besides that, both Julie and Velarana regarded character attacks on each other as strategic mistakes, as their reputations would have been brought down by playing with them. Leha probably would have had no problem launching into a smear campaign against the latter, but Julie restrained her.

I was glad to be away from all that. I had made it absolutely clear that I wanted no part in politics, because I had both seen them in action and studied them in theory, and I wasn't the type of person for that career. So, I watched from the sidelines. Drilling the troops, hanging around with Ciara and Tam, watching the confidence of Julie, Armen and Leha rise for their prospects. They seemed to be clawing back victory from what they had presumed to be defeat. They were right, to a certain extent.

It was perfect for me. I was very content with the scenario. So, the whole damned lot of them, Velarana included, decided I was a little too comfortable.

* * *

The next part of the story requires a little history lesson, which is filled with no small amount of ironies that I'm sure the Maker likes to grin to himself about.

In 9:20 Dragon, Celene I Valmont ascended to the throne of Orlais.

She was only sixteen. The circumstances of her ascension included the possible assassination of her uncle, Emperor Florian, to grant her the honour, along with a year long state of near-civil war, and the overlooking of the obvious candidate in the male heir; Gaspard.

Needless to say, taking the reins of power when you're a teenager and the succession isn't absolutely legitimate, there are challengers. Most were Orlesian, of course. While Gaspard bided his time, others were taken care of in the way that bards take care of those sorts of things.

But not all of Celene's challengers were of her own country. The Nevarrans did their best to manoeuvre their armies to threaten the northern marches, which is probably the reason Gaspard didn't launch the civil war right then and there. The Avvars somehow got wind of the instability too, and launched a series of large scale raids that both Julie and Louise de Villars remember vividly from their childhood. Both the northern and southern invasions were repulsed, most notably in the north by Gaspard himself.

The other challenger, inevitably, was the Felicisima Armada. The loose confederation of pirate captains and raider chiefs always did have a nose for opportunity. That nose had led them to adopt the use of Antivan Fire on the high seas before any other power, which was the reason why they had been so vital in seeing off the Qunari threat in previous ages.

By 9:19, when Florian died, they had control much of the Waking Sea up to the Isthmus of Jader. That year also saw the withdrawal of Orlesian frigate patrols in anticipation of a succession war, the bulk of the Royal Fleet being recalled to Val Royeaux as a symbol of its submission to Celene, as well as to prevent attacks from the smaller independent fleets of the coastal lords.

The Armada banded together and passed through the Isthmus of Jader, ravaging the unprotected shipping of the internal waters of both Orlais and Nevarra. Ocean trade halted for almost two years as the Orlesian, Nevarran and pirate fleets did battle in a three way conflict that outlasted the one that Nevarra had begun on land. Eventually the two realms ended their conflict and combined their efforts, driving off the pirates at last, but not before the humiliating destruction of many frigates and the theft of millions of royals worth of goods.

Celene, quite rightly, was more than a little pissed off that such a thing could happen. Worse was that her admirals quickly informed her that they did not possess the right ships to root out the pirates from their strongholds.

The Imperial Navy's frigates didn't have the range. The ships could carry enough supplies were merchant haulers, too slow and not well armed enough to get the job done. Arming them would make them even slower. A counterstrike couldn't be done without using the Free Marcher ports of Ostwick, Wycome and Hercinia as bases. Those cities, although no friends to the pirates, had even less enthusiasm for the sudden arrival of Orlesian naval supremacy in the region. The only other alternative, Ferelden, was openly hostile.

The Empress, requiring military prestige at the start of her reign to keep the chevaliers subdued, ordered the construction of twelve large galleons designed to reach Estwatch and Llomerryn. Two decks of ballistas instead of just one, a longer hull and an extra mainmast, and a number of innovations for efficient stowage of supplies. The ships were laid down at Val Chevin and Jader in 9:22 Dragon, and completed in 9:28. But the call to action never came. The Empire's internal problems meant that Celene could not afford to take military risks.

The ships were relegated to a semi-merchantile role. Their extra deck and excellent turn of speed for their size made them ideal for transporting goods. Their lower decks had their ballistas removed to more than double their carrying capacity, and the ships began to show the flag on the Waking Triangle route. Being more or less immune to pirate attacks even without their full armament, this brought both great prestige and great wealth to Celene's coffers.

Like all ships on the Waking Triangle routes, the ships followed the money. They would bring wine, precision metalwork and luxury finished products from Orlais to the Free Marches, avoiding Nevarra's tariffs handily. In return, they'd receive goods and materials unavailable in Orlais or Ferelden like silk, spices, cotton and tobacco. The ships would then sail to Amaranthine or Denerim, sometimes both, to exchange some of the goods they picked up in the Free Marches for leather, pelts, and most importantly, grain. The whole process was hugely profitable, and the addition of our own city to the routes made it even more so, to our great fortune.

Remember all of this, because it was damned important for the task Julie and Velarana were to give to me.

This was one of the roots of Celene's reluctance to go to war, either against Gaspard or the realms on the border. It made her hugely wealthy, even for an Empress, allowing her to invest in personal projects at will. The income from the ship _Valmont_ was entirely endowed to the University of Orlais, for instance. The money from the _Florian_ went to the Chantry. Maybe she was admitting she had something to do with its namesake's demise with that?

These ships continued their trading throughout the civil war, providing Celene with a real countermeasure for the immediate military advantage that Gaspard would gain with his own victory at Halamshiral, which occurred around the time we were in the Deep Roads. Marcher _condottieri_ and _capitani di ventura_ , mercenaries in other words, hardened her peasant levy armies. Bull's Chargers among them. This balanced the advantage in heavy cavalry and elite infantry that Gaspard possessed due to the bulk of the chevalier order coming to his banner.

It is these trade routes that also brought three of the galleons, _Halamshiral, Lydes_ and _Clarisse_ , to Amaranthine in the winter of 9:39/40.

Into our hands.

Their crews were almost entirely Jaderites, and having heard what had happened in their native city months earlier, they defected almost immediately. That loyalty to our cause was cemented when I ordered that the non-strategic materials on board the ships be sold and half the money be given to the sailors as a reward for their 'stalwart defence of liberty'. Most of the sailors received more money than they had ever had in their lives. Most did not spend it wisely, but hey, you only live once. I was happy to see them live to the fullest. They still showed up for duty like clockwork, after all.

That left us with the ships themselves to deal with. There was no question we were going to keep them, along with the smaller but still seaworthy vessels we had captured at Redcliffe. Even without the wealth of knowledge from Earth, everyone understood that a realm needed access to the sea and ships could bring huge wealth. However, the names were a problem.

Six of the original galleons were named after Orlesian royalty. The other six were named after the six greatest cities of Orlais. Neither naming convention was suitable for us. The ancestors of people who tried to kill us were on our shitlist, not our namelist. As for cities, perhaps we could have tolerated _Jader_ and _Val Royeaux_ … but we got _Halamshiral_ and _Lydes_ instead. Calling our city-to-be Troy may have seemed like tempting fate to me, but calling anything after those two cities was a bridge too far even for Julie.

Of course, had we known that our garrison at Halamshiral had actually held out and the battle between the Empress and Grand-Duke fought outside the walls, maybe we would have kept that name. That was something we'd only discover once another set of uninvited guests arrived, however.

Naturally, Julie saw the political opportunity in naming the ships herself, and made an event of it. There were also the other ships to name too, although that was far less urgent. Regardless, it became the first big event of the Libertarian political campaign, and a little more than that for me.

* * *

It was a busy day, for almost everyone else.

Julie had to see to the organisation of everything, with Armen assisting. They both rushed about like their asses were on fire, between the rooms of Anora's Watch set aside for the Libertarians and the library, where a bemused Velarana watched them over the top of a copy of Rousseau's political works.

Leha, no longer a Libertarian, was occupied with trying to get the Lucrosians into something resembling order. On top of her duties as quartermaster. She was just plain missing from the castle, the Lucrosians had opted to base themselves out of the Merchant's Quarter, where they had made close ties with the local commercial interests.

Tam and her Grey Wardens were busy preparing themselves to be the escort for the local leadership, whom had been invited to the ceremony. As part of Andras' entourage, I spotted Hawke, Oghren, Sigrun, even an ancient looking man supposedly called Avernus. Bann Howe even returned, so I let her brother out of his cell for the occasion with the promise that I'd execute him if he made trouble. He seemed to be cool about it, Andras probably being responsible for that.

That left Ciara and I floating about with little to do until it was time to go down to the docks. We spent the morning hours in the library too. Me watching Velarana like a hawk and occasionally getting a rushed kiss from Julie, like she kept forgetting that she already had kissed me. Ciara playing with her dagger and occasionally sighing with boredom, attempting to provoke the Aequitarian mage into some kind of reaction. Which didn't work.

I was very glad to be out of the place by the time midday rolled around.

My job for the day, as well as that of Ciara and a platoon of the Rangers under Sergeant Shovels, was to escort another three VIPs to the event; Claire, Victoire and Patrice.

Julie's sister was dressed for the cold, cloudy weather in a thick hooded cloak, her dark brown hair pouring out of the front of it. She was in a good mood, smiling in fact, when I met her outside the main gate of the castle. The two babies in her arms were swaddled in enough fur to protect them from Antarctic blizzards, and probably could have bounced if they had accidentally fell. As surrogate mothers go, Claire was doing very well, I thought. The inevitable squeals as Ciara rushed over to see the kids rang out, as I gave Claire a nod in greeting, slinging my firelance.

"How are we today?" I asked, as Ciara babbled in Elven at Victoire.

"Not fussy," Claire replied, answering for the children and not herself, "They seem to like going outside, so I take them onto the battlements when they do get worked up."

"And you?" I said.

"Tired," she said, "But... hopeful. You seem to be keeping your promise to keep us safe."

The one I had implicitly made to her at the Wolf's Lair, before we had marched through the Deep Roads.

I shrugged it off. "We're not across the sea just yet," I said, "But our chances are as good now as they're going to get."

"Stop being so careful," Ciara teased in reply, her lyrical accent at maximum, "We've got it in the bag."

One of the babies let out a screech, a cry for attention. Claire hushed them both, getting a little slap on the face for her trouble. The kid was definitely related to Julie, I thought. I held out my arms, inviting Claire to give me one of them, as they were getting to be a little too big to carry two at a time. She obliged, and I received one of them.

Victoire looked up at me from the bundle of fur and smiled, poking at my face with her little forefinger. My heart lurched, entirely unexpectedly at the time, but entirely understandably in hindsight. After all, so many of my supposed troubles to come boiled down to what I was holding in my arms. 'Won't someone think of the children!' The entirety of civilisation does, perhaps.

"Are you okay?" Ciara asked, in a strange tone I couldn't quite identify. When I looked back at Claire and Ciara, they were both looking at me with alarmed interest. As was Patrice, albeit with a great deal more confusion in his big brown eyes. Evidently, something of my feelings were plastered on my face. I got a hold of myself at once, straightening up, not wanting to betray any sense of malaise. I had to at least maintain the appearance of having my act together.

"I'm good," I lied, waving her off and fixing my grip on Victoire's swaddle, "Shall we go?"

Claire inclined her head in agreement.

"Sergeant," I said to Shovels, " _Allons-y._ "

The sergeant complied. The Rangers moved to surround us in a protective circle, swinging their firelances off their shoulders and into their hands. We started forward once they had, through the gateway leading to the docks.

The docklands were packed with people, both Orlesian and Fereldan. The warehouses seemed almost empty as we passed by them, and the main avenue along the piers themselves were utterly filled. The seven ships to be renamed, those large enough to be worth such an honour, were tied up by the dockside, Old Glory fluttering from the tops of their mainmasts. Red, white and blue ribbons tied up linen cloth to cover up the nameplates at the sides and sterns of the vessels, waiting to be revealed to the waiting crowds.

If I had to guess, I'd say most of the town's residents had turned out too. Which wasn't something you'd expect to see given that the clouds were an angry grey, edging towards black. Never underestimate the boredom of people in winter, being the lesson.

The mere sight of the Rangers got us through the crowd with ease. That many were off duty soldiers undoubtedly helped, and there was some mild manhandling of those more reluctant by others in the crowd, saving our escort the bother of doing it themselves. I apologised to the victims as we passed, if only to keep our PR up.

We arrived at the platform where Julie was due to speak, in front of what was now the flagship of the 'Navy of the Free' directly in front of the main avenue. The rostra was surrounded by the Avvar Highlanders, warpaint on and blades drawn, Amund and Asala at the front, causing a sort of bubble of empty space in the crowd's mass. We stepped into that space, and the Rangers joined the guard duty.

Asala saluted, keeping a professionally blank face as she did so, before returning her gaze to the masses, to do her duty. Amund gave me a closed fisted salute across his chest, oddly reminiscent of the chevalier one.

"Look who the Lady dropped on us," the Skywatcher said to me, "Come to see how the Lowlanders shake their knees at the sight of us?"

I smirked. It would be an unwise person to not fear the sheer mass of Amund, provided you weren't armed with something that could neutralise him from a distance.

"Good to see you too, Amund," I replied, "Did you get bored of arguing with Brandon and decided to join us here?"

"That priestess of yours has a big mouth on her," Amund rumbled, stretching his arms and sending the crowd back another pace with the gesture, "But the Lady instructed me not to harm her, and I think I enjoy her now. Been nothing but omens of peace for the past few weeks too. Our arguing is a good distraction."

"Don't get too sad," Ciara said, "I'm sure there'll be plenty of fighting once we get across the sea." Amund grunted, clearly wishing that to be true.

"One hopes not," Claire interrupted, "We've had quite enough fighting, thank you very much."

Amund eyed the younger Marteau sister, and then the two fur-wrapped children in our arms.

"Lowlanders believe that war is something that breaks peace," he said, "But the Lady teaches that peace isn't real. Even when 'at peace' it is still war. Believing in peace makes people soft, and softness invites greater conflict."

"Walk softly and carry a big stick," I paraphrased aloud, not really speaking to anyone in particular, "I can get behind that idea. There's a reason why Peacekeepers are always armed."

Amund gave an appreciative laugh, and slapped me on the shoulder, lighter than he would have had I not been carrying a child in my arms. The big softy.

"I knew you'd get it, outlander," he chuckled, before he looked at Claire again, "There's always someone plotting to take what is yours, little mother. To protect your children, you must be ferocious."

Claire frowned up at him, not liking the point he was making or their root in pagan religious thought. Probably didn't like the phrase 'little mother' either, as she wasn't all that little for a woman. I sighed, not having the arsenal to defuse that rift, and went to Asala.

"Any trouble?" I asked.

The painted Qunari's head swivelled to me. "None, _kadan_ ," she said, "The locals were searched at the North Gate for weapons, and the remainder are our own people."

She pointed to the roof of the nearest warehouse, where sentries were watching closely and the doors were open to reveal platoons of shield-bearers.

"The Grenadiers are in position to intervene if anything occurs," Asala continued, "With batons or firelances as required."

I nodded, pleased with the arrangements. I had no hand in organising them, Julie had wanted to give me some breathing space. I was about to understand why she had.

Julie and her entourage showed up a few minutes later through the North Gate, Tam and Andras flanking her. The mix of Grey Wardens and chevaliers parted the crowd like the Red Sea, which cheered despite the gloomy sky.

Julie was dressed in her deep blue and red dress, with her matching Orlesian half-mask and fur coat, riding side-saddle. Tam was in full Earth panoply, her shotgun held up in one hand, its butt resting on Fritz's back in front of the saddle. Andras was in her Warden uniform, with the addition of pauldrons in the shape of silver griffons on her shoulders. Behind rode Armen, in his Circle robes, and Hawke, in her Warden ones, then Louise and Bann Howe, followed by Mariette and Oghren. At the rear was Fisher, not used to riding a horse at all and so walking along, escorted by troops of his new marine regiments.

The procession passed by us, and the whole group dismounted, taking their positions on the raised wooden rostra. Claire made her way too, climbing up and then accepting Victoire from me. She was a Libertarian candidate, after all. I remained below with the guard, where I belonged.

* * *

Julie stepped forward, the others arranging themselves in a semi-circle behind her, against the backdrop of the large ship. She shot a smile at me, before turning her eyes to the crowd.

She began her speech by summarising the journey we had all been through. From the retrieval of the stolen taxes from the ignoble chevaliers; through the battles with the Templars at the Wolf's Lair and L'Ambassade; to Sahrnia, Halamshiral, Lydes, Vindargent and Hearth; through Honnleath, Redcliffe, Kinloch and the Hafter... We had come a long way.

Julie added that none of the fighting we had been through had truly been something we wanted, it had been forced on us by necessity. A contention as disputed then as it is now.

She declared that it had been worth it. She talked about the progress that had been made at Hearth and beyond before the defeat. More people could read and write in the region of the Eastern Dales than ever before. More people had been trained in skilled trades than ever before. For the first time in many decades, possibly centuries, wealth had been flowing _into_ the Hearthlands, the Grand-Collines, the Midi and the Nouveaux-Landes, and not _out_ of them. All of that was the result of their own efforts, and it was worth defending, worth spreading by the best means possible.

Now, the Maker had given the Army of the Free a new challenge; to create a shining example of liberty, in the form of a new city, a new realm. That the only way to meet this challenge was head on, to not betray any reluctance in facing down tyranny, or else it would nest among us. A not so subtle jab at Velarana's political moderation, which all of the Orlesians in the crowd understood perfectly well.

Julie announced the ships new names and the namesakes, in remembrance of those who had not been so lucky as we who had survived and the values we stood for. Each was accompanied by a magical fireworks display from the decks of the ship in question, performed by Libertarian mages.

 _Camille –_ Named for Camille Doucy, Baronness of the Nouveaux-Landes. It was the largest of the ships we had taken on Lake Calenhad.

 _C_ _écile –_ After Baroness des Arbes, Pierre's murdered wife and my once-denied prosecutor. One of the Orlesian galleons, formerly the _Clarisse._

 _Justice –_ A longship, and the fastest ship in our fleet by no small degree, aspirationally named. Personally, I would have called it the Revenge, as it was the best thing for raiding that we could have possibly laid our hands on.

 _Liberté –_ Another oceangoing longship of Fereldan design, capable of going up pretty much any river worthy of the title just as the other longship was.

 _Ville d'Hearth –_ A fat carrack, also captured at Redcliffe, more or less only good for hauling supplies for the rest of the ships, but useful in that role to the point of being worthy of taking the name of the place where 'liberty was born'.

 _Élodie –_ Named for Julie's sister, the mother of Victoire and Patrice, formerly the Orlesian galleon _Lydes._

 _Océane –_ Our new flagship, named for Océane des Arbes, daughter of Pierre and Cécile, formerly the galleon _Halamshiral._

* * *

With the fireworks spent, the ships monikers revealed on their hulls in finely carved and brightly painted wood, the event was over. Julie thanked all those that had come out, despite the weather, and urged them all to participate in the political race that had just begun, reminding them that the decisions made by those elected would affect them for years to come.

The crowd began to disperse just as a light, wind-blown rain came in off the sea behind us. One that any child could have told was going to turn torrential, whether in a few minutes or a few hours. I found myself tempted to order everyone to disperse more quickly; the ordinary residents of the town were being shadowed back through the North Gate by the Grenadiers, and it was taking some time. I had to wait in the ever-thickening droplets until that was finished.

Ciara had went off to talk to Julie and Tam, leaving me in the comfortable but silent company of Amund and Asala... at least, until Fisher came along.

"General," he said, amicably enough.

"Admiral," I replied politely, acutely aware that he was now my equal. On paper, at any rate.

The silence after that was decidedly not comfortable, perhaps because of the man's sudden elevation to high command. Back on Earth, I always used to think that the rivalry between military branches like the Army, Navy and Airforce were childish. Something to be made fun of, but not taken seriously. I was beginning to understand the reality of that type of rivalry myself, now that I was more directly involved in it.

"Don't I get a greeting, fishman?" Amund said with amusement, before poking a huge thumb at Asala, "Thought you lowlanders were supposed to be 'nice' to women too?" Avvar opinion didn't run along the lines of treating women any differently to men.

Fisher, being the salty sailor that he was, hocked a gob of spittle onto the ground. To clear his throat, not to insult anyone. Asala grimaced in disgust regardless.

"Getting offended?" the Admiral said to Amund, "I don't know you, _highlander._ That's all there is to it. Don't get caught in your own net."

"No need to act like children," Asala said, shaking her head, "The tamassrans of your city must have been deeply lacking in training."

"Never met a sailor before?" Fisher smirked.

"Many," Asala replied, "They were more disciplined." Qunari being Qunari, after all.

Amund made a noise like he was considering that. "You're very strict, grey one," he said, "I know you've taken our people as your own, but you're more strict than any Avvar I've met. I'm not sure the Lady approves."

"I'm turning your people into something to be feared by all," Asala replied, touching the giant Avvar on the arm, "A closed fist, rather than an open palm. That's something the Lady can appreciate, I'm sure of it."

Amund seemed mollified, for the moment. Though his face betrayed no lust, I knew perfectly well that Asala had been accepted by him partially because of her... physical attributes. That was something the Avvar did value highly in their women. Hence the whole 'we walk around only in furs, half naked' thing. Asala, for her part, had been inadvertently exploiting this the whole time, completely unaware that most of the Avvar men and some of the Avvar women were pining for her.

Never underestimate the power of sexual politics, there's another lesson for you.

It helped that Asala was inherently competent in all respects, however. Upon finishing her little monologue, she marched off to see to the disposition of the Highlanders, now that the crowds had parted. I decided to change the tack of the conversation, if you'll pardon the pun, towards more business.

"How goes the training?" I asked Fisher, "The new gunners getting used to their jobs?"

Fisher frowned. "They're not as good as the Tranquil," the admiral said, "But then, they're training out on that barge in the harbour, this rain lashing them, wind cutting through them. Most of them are landsmen that first saw the sea at Lydes in the distance, not sailors. They're not used to it."

That sounded like bad news, but Fisher was far from a 'landsman' and could have just been bitching. I cleared my throat, and moved closer to him.

"They're still making progress?" I asked quietly, "Or do we have to revisit the issue of Tranquil women on your ships?"

"There will be no women under arms on my ships," Fisher said emphatically, before returning to a calm tone, "But yes, the gunners are learning to shoot. The loaders are already good at their job, it's the aiming that's the problem. It's a lot harder to do on the waves than on land, it's my Jader boys that are helping teach that and they're a lot less efficient about it than the Tranquil are."

As shooting a ballista and firing a cannon have the chop of the waves in common, those with experience in shooting the former on the high seas were of great use. My understanding is that the trick is to aim using the high or low point of the ship's movements. The gunners out on the barges had been augmenting the natural movement of the waves by running the spare squad back and forth, as well as jumping up and down on the thing, so as to shake the whole vessel. I had spent an afternoon watching from Anora's Watch with my binoculars, and felt a little seasick for it.

"Could use more cannons though," Fisher said, "Twenty per galleon and eight per longship isn't enough."

"Don't start," I said, "You've been given eighty or so guns, out of our one hundred and thirty, including every single one of our heavy pieces except for _Annie_." It was a miracle in itself that we had so many. We didn't even have carriages for all of them, so my complaint was a little off base because I couldn't actually field all one hundred and thirty at a time, but it wasn't completely so.

"All made out of enough silverite to buy and maintain a large chateau, I might add, representing a huge chunk of the money I spent on the damn things. I'm the one who should be asking Julie for more cannons, not you. Pity she's already said there's no point setting up the production for them here."

"Half of that eighty are," Fisher began, before pausing to find the words, "...what do you call it, without the grooves on the inside?"

"Smoothbore," I answered.

"Less accurate," he nodded, "A waste of powder and shot."

"You can't complain there either," I said, with narrowed eyes, "Can't fire the chained cannonballs you asked for after reading about them on Earth out of a rifled cannon. And we've given you three quarters of our explosive shot for the rifled guns you are getting too! I ought to call that highway robbery!"

Fisher held up his hands in protest. "Don't complain to me when the pirates get into range to throw sticky red fire at us," he said, "Because that's what'll happen if all this doesn't work. Rivaini bastards won't show any mercy."

"Pirates generally want to capture ships, not burn them down," I shot back, "Besides, you're the Admiral, remember? Figuring out how to stop them from doing either thing is _your_ problem. Leave the peasant mobs and mercenaries to me."

Fisher cursed under his breath, knowing full well that I was dead right. Even if it was all our asses potentially on the line, which I hoped it wouldn't be given Tiberius' promise of a Tevinter naval escort, Fisher was the one who'd be in command on the seas. Not my fine self.

"You certainly weren't born yesterday, General," Fisher said, gritting his teeth, "I'll say that much."

I snorted, but said nothing. Nor did Fisher for a while.

"I've never been on a ship," Amund said, out of the blue.

Both Fisher and I looked at him, suddenly realising that the Avvars were undertaking a journey the likes of which his people had never underwent before. The things we do because our gods command it so, I thought to myself. Amund was a brave man.

Julie and Armen quickly sauntered up, managing to detach themselves from the others still on the rostra, first coming to my attention by the creak of the large crates that were used for supports. She waved a hello to Amund, who smiled back, getting the picture that he wasn't party to the topic she had come over to discuss. He swung his huge warhammer over his shoulder and left us.

"That went well," I smiled, as Julie descended gingerly down the ramshackle stairs, "I think you won a few votes today."

"It wasn't only about that," Julie pouted falsely, "But yes, I think so too." She turned her eyes to Fisher, causing him to shift his feet uncomfortably for a moment. Whatever treachery, if it can be called that, he had planned weighed on him, clearly.

"I have a task for both of you," Julie said, becoming serious, "As well as a few others."

"We've been talking with the Aequitarians and Lucrosians," Armen clarified, "Both fraternities agree with us that it should be undertaken without any interference from any of us."

My eyebrows raised at that. Practically everything had been up for discussion and competition as far as I could tell. They remained silent, waiting for something.

"At your service, Marquise," Fisher said, with all sincerity. That seemed to be what they wanted. Julie smiled at him, knowing full well that he could be voting for the other candidate in two weeks time or so.

"There is one thing we haven't decided yet," Julie said, "But we can't leave it until after the election."

"The location of our city-to-be," Armen said, "It's too important for any one faction to decide on, and almost none of the people elected have any idea about what we need. Almost none have been to the Free Marches anyway. Both of you will chair a military commission to decide where we should first attempt settlement."

If my jaw was ever inclined to drop, it would have at that statement. Luckily for my dignity, it wasn't very often that it did.

" _I_ don't know anything about the Free Marches," I pointed out, before turning to my fellow chief of staff, "What about you Fisher?"

"Beyond some of the port cities and the coastline, not enough," Fisher admitted, "Even then, I could only tell you the best taverns and brothels. But she mentioned a few others?"

Julie nodded, retrieving a list from under her embroidered blue bodice, she held it out. I took it quickly, before the rain could get at it, and looked it over. A groan escaped me as soon as I saw the second name on the list.

"Mariette," I said, rubbing the bridge of my nose, "I've been trying to stay away from her." Pretty damn successfully at that point too, having sent her with a party of chevaliers and lancers to keep a watch on the Pilgrim's Path for the remains of the Fereldan Army. Which hadn't materialised as a cohesive fighting force, and I didn't expect it to before we left.

"She's been recalled. She lived in the Marches for a couple of years and according to Louise has much knowledge about them," Julie replied flatly, "Don't worry, Tam will be there to stop her... doing what she does."

My eyebrows rose higher. Julie had never expressed any particular hostility towards the harlequin before. Yet her explanation of Mariette's presence made it clear that she was hostile. What had changed?

The proposed members of this committee were pretty much just the High Command staff, obviously including Tam, as Warden-Commander and Mariette, as chief of intelligence.

The only addition of note was Bethany Hawke, whom had lived in the Free Marches from 9:30 until just after Anders blew up the Kirkwall Chantry, when she had to flee the area after her sister supported the mage uprising. As a former Marcher Warden, she had intimate understanding of the wilderness of the region, places we might be able to settle without stepping on anyone's toes. We could also call on the testimony of anyone we needed.

I blew out a smoking breath.

"You and Velarana..." I said, "You're trying to avoid getting blamed if it doesn't work out."

Julie laughed, reaching up and pulling my head down gently for a kiss, which she planted on my nose. "You're not running for Chancellor, my love," she said, "You don't have anything to lose. And I trust you."

"I know you do," I frowned, "That's what worries me. I'm not a city planner."

"We're not asking you to plan the city," Armen replied, "Just find a good place for it."

"That's half the job, I think," Fisher said to me, "Looks like we have a decision ahead."

"Important work," Julie said, "There's a reason we can't let politics interfere with it. It's too big a decision for any one faction to claim victory over, so instead of sabotaging each other, we've come to this path instead."

That seemed like a fair idea. I certainly didn't want to end up living in a swamp because it happened to be close to Orlais. I conceded, more out of a wish to get out of the rain than anything else.

Claire, Ciara and Tam joined us from the rostra, the babes in the latter two's arms.

"You've heard?" I asked Tam.

"I have," she said, giving Patrice back to Claire, "I know quite a lot about the Free Marches. I think I can help."

"So you're happy about being locked up with Mariette, Warden Hawke and the High Command?" I continued.

"If we can choose a place suitable, yes," Tam asked, not quite understanding my objection.

"You'll have to hurry," Julie said, "The people are waiting for an answer on this. Their impatience is why we've called a truce between the fraternities on the subject. Find us a home, Sam."

"I'll do my best," I said, "But I'll insist on Fisher's people checking it out by sea first, if possible."

"We can live with that," Julie replied.

Julie moved off to talk with Claire and Ciara for a moment, allowing me a short window to do the same with Tam. I seized on the opportunity immediately.

"Did you say something to her about Mariette?" I whispered, indicating Julie with a tilt of my head, "When the harlequin was mentioned, she seemed almost... angry?"

An amused grin broke over Tam's face, and she leaned closer to reply.

"I told her that Mariette de Villars does not actually … enjoy the company of women," she said, "That her flirting is simply an attempt to gain leverage, nothing more." Her flirting with _Julie_ that is.

Ahhhh, I thought. That did explain the hostility, if it was true. Julie was perfectly happy to share her lovers, but perhaps she was more possessive than she thought. If Mariette was not actually interested in both Julie and I, to say nothing of Tam, but in myself alone, that was not sharing. That was thieving.

Julie was jealous. And I couldn't blame her at all for it.

"You understand," Tam said. My face had shown some sign of comprehension.

"I guess," I said, "But she needn't worry, it's not like I'm going to go behind her back."

Tam snorted. "Males," she said, "You have a belief that you have a choice in the matter. That is always amusing." I shot her a look that said I didn't appreciate her doubting my free will, but it was half-hearted at best. The members of my sex do tend to be led about by the cock.

Julie concluded whatever conversation she was having with Claire and Ciara, which was about an invitation for a dinner with Libertarians, and turned back to us. "See you tonight," she said to me, in a good mood, "Let's get out of the rain. The parameters are on the back of that note, by the way. We're counting on you."

I flipped the note she had given me over, and saw that there was something akin to a wishlist. I handed it to Fisher. "Have a look at that," I said to him, "We really have our work cut out."

"Without a doubt," the Admiral frowned, looking over the requirements the politicians had set us, "No time to waste."

* * *

Indeed there wasn't.

We called the commission together the next day in the Royal Lounge after an early dinner, gathering the appropriate maps and information. By the time everyone was gathered around the large table, the window outside was flowing with streams of freezing rain, which hadn't let up overnight. Thank God for the roaring fireplace. Bethany Hawke had got it going as soon as she had entered. The guards outside hadn't allowed any servants in to do the job, owing to the sensitive documents we had there.

On one long side of the table were the Army staff, all dressed in Free Army green barring one; Soprano, McNulty, Mike, Louise, Barris, and inevitably, Mariette. Louise was the exception to the dress code, her uncle's skull mask over her face but the rear helmet portion remaining absent, allowing her blonde hair to spill out over her shoulder onto the grey of her tunic. Even Barris was in green.

On the other side were the newly minted Navy people. Fisher and six captains; COs of the ships we had just christened. Men of Jader all, dressed a variety of winter sailor costume. One or two looked outright like stereotypical pirates. They had claimed the side closest to the fire before I had even arrived, something the Army side were not pleased about if the rubbing hands of some were any evidence.

At the bottom of the table was Hawke, belonging to neither Navy nor Army. With her was Andras, who had invited herself to observe on a whim. Considering I was doing most of the running of the city now, I guess she was bored.

I was at the head of the table, with Tam between me and a clearly pleased Mariette at the corner.

They were all standing rather than sitting, something I hoped that would encourage us to keep things as brief as possible. Only Fisher and I had chairs.

"Right, ladies and gentlemen," I said, "The Marquise, the vaunted Velarana and the dwarven wench have set us a task to find a place for our new city."

I laid out the still-damp note that Julie had given me on the table beside the huge map of the Free Marches, Rivain and the eastern part of the Tevinter Imperium.

"They agreed that the site needs to have certain things to be viable," I continued, "Access to the sea, the closer to Orlais the better, relative safety, fertile land, and finally, a position as inoffensive to other cities' claims as possible. As you can imagine, there's not a lot of places that fit all those categories, so we all might be up shit creek without a paddle on this one."

"Politicians didn't want to get blamed?" Mike asked. The addition of 'politician' to the Orlesian lexicon had already taken on some of the connections the word had in my own world, much to my amusement.

"Exactly," I said, "Just to make things even more complicated, the Admiral and I have also added our own requirement, that the site needs to be defensible from both land and sea."

"Agreed," said Fisher.

"First thing's first then," I said, picking up a stick and pointing at the map, "Access to the sea rules out anything north of the Vimmark mountains, and anything upriver of Starkhaven on the Minanter River. That leaves us with the coasts of the Waking Sea and Amaranthine Ocean, and the banks of the Minanter until Starkhaven. Any objections so far?"

There were none. It was the least objectionable part.

"Rivain and Antiva are ruled out because they're too far from Orlais," I continued, "The presence of the Qun in Rivain makes it absolutely a no-go. Antiva has no suitable unclaimed land at all, and has a strong government to contend with, so that's also out."

"But we could buy land there," said a Jaderite captain, the commander of the _Camille_ , "The Antivan moneylenders would likely be willing to give us a loan, and from what I've seen of this army, we could easily pay that loan back. In fact, we could even work for the merchant princes as mercenaries and privateers, plenty of crowns in that."

I curled my lip, not wanting to put our people into mercenary work if I could help it. Although, given that we numbered between thirty five and forty thousand, I wondered if we could avoid making such compromises. We had the population of a middling city at best, not an empire. Thankfully, it wouldn't come to that.

"But then we would be Antivan subjects," said McNulty, "We might be able to organise our own affairs, but not our own defence. They'd demand that we disarm or share our knowledge of blackpowder."

"They would attempt to rob us of our weapons," Soprano agreed loudly, "After that, our wealth and freedom." Antiva not being any more hospitable to elves in real terms than Orlais, except perhaps with less of a taboo for … relations. No wonder Soprano was dismissive of the idea of going there.

"Antiva is too far from Orlais in any case," I intervened, "Unless you disagree Admiral? You're the maritime expert here."

Fisher rubbed his jawline with his knuckles, curling his lip in thought. "The main trade routes do go as far north as Rivain and Rialto Bay," he said, "It isn't distance so much as the pirates that makes it too far for our purpose. I think The Marquise and Lady Velarana intend uninterrupted trade with Orlais, which we couldn't have if we were to settle anywhere in Antiva."

"Which leaves us with the Free Marches alone," I said, moving the stick over the place on the map in question, "Since being close to Orlais is the category preferred, I think we need to talk about whether or not settlement on the Minanter is desirable at all. Warden Hawke, Major de Villars, any thoughts?"

Bethany Hawke shifted her weight, not having expected to be put on the spot.

"Starkhaven controls the entire river with their fleet of galleys," the Warden replied, "Only Wycome is free of its influence among the settlements there. Prince Vael is a good man, but he would expect some form of allegiance from you."

Warden Hawke had met the man, I could tell. That greatly increased my confidence in her assessment.

"Starkhaven is the largest of the Marcher states," Mariette confirmed, "Well, other than Nevarra and Antiva, if they can still be called Marchers. To settle on the Minanter means pledging your loyalty to the Vael dynasty. Their prince was the youngest of three, discarded, but he came back to claim his birthright. Warden Hawke is right, he is not someone to tolerate a new state being formed out of what he considers his rightful domain."

"And Wycome?" I asked.

Grins spread over all the captains' faces, as well as that of Hawke and Mariette.

"Wycome is known for its revelry above all," Mariette ventured, "It is a favoured port for that reason as much as being the gateway to the Minanter delta. But its demesne is small, and claimed either by the Dalish or by the petty nobles that rule it. Nowhere we could settle without offending someone. And it is a river delta. It floods, and some of the streets in Wycome are actually canals."

"A swamp in other words," I frowned, "Yeah, we can rule Wycome out... as much as I enjoy revelry." I shot a glance at Tam, and she gave me a nudge with her elbow for my trouble. I nudged her back for good measure, and continued.

"So, the Waking and Amaranthine coasts..." I said, "I don't suppose anyone has any suggestions?"

There wasn't any. Just a lot of eyes closed or raised to the ceiling in thought. Followed by a series of arguments over possibilities, none of which registered any traction with me or anyone else. Several conversations at once made it impossible to hear. Luckily, one of us had a decent idea.

"We need to rule out the places that are already claimed," said Fisher, causing the immediate ceasing of all other talk, "Major de Villars, can you tell us where we absolutely cannot go?"

Mariette said she could and asked for me to give her the stick I had been using. I slid it over the table to her.

"Hercinia would be impossible," Mariette said, pointing to a spot just south of Wycome, "It's got palaces, and that tells you all you need to know. It's where the raiders, smugglers and pirates go to retire, the successful ones. It's got a sizeable fleet and a large number of condottieri, paid for by the heaviest taxes in the entire world."

"Which I'm sure the former raiders, criminals and pirates don't pay a single copper of," said Louise with disdain, "The scum."

"Quite right, cousin," Mariette smiled, "But the ordinary people are not poor there either, they make enough to pay the taxes. I don't think we can count on Hercinia being a friendly place. Luckily, the city doesn't claim a lot of land, so settling near it wouldn't offend any other cities."

"It doesn't project its power," I thought aloud, "So it's not a real threat unless we directly step on their toes."

Mariette gave a single nod of confirmation, and moved the point of the stick again, this time to the south-west. "Ostwick is even worse of an option," she said, "They have a standing army, a small one called the Long Watch, and they lay claim to almost all the land between the Vimmark Mountains and the sea until the Wounded Coast."

"Ostwick is also famously pious," Hawke interrupted, "When I visited, there seemed to be no shortage of Templars, and as far as I know, the Ostwick Circle has seen no unrest whatsoever."

"Their contributions to the Chantry alone are enough to tell us that," Mariette agreed, "They're the last city within the influence of the Orlesian and Nevarran navies. Many traders from both realms do not venture further, as doing so risks the attentions of the pirates."

I took a sharp breath in through my nose, having noticed a common theme of the deliberations so far. "Pirates seem to be a big problem," I said, "We'll have to do something about that."

"They're considered a necessary evil," said Fisher, "Keeps the Qunari out of the Waking Sea." As the pirates had been the ones to take the fight to the Qun centuries before.

"That didn't help Kirkwall," Hawke said, "The Arishok destroyed most of the nobility. It's part of the reason the Templars gained so much power there."

"No, it didn't help," Fisher admitted, "But that's the logic of the nobles, who don't want to spend good silver and gold on ships and men to crew them. Only Orlais can really afford to, and Orlais is furthest from the problem." And even Orlais saw fit to invest a little in solutions, hence our new ships. Merci, Celene.

"Maybe we should make sure that we are far away too," I grumbled, "So we keep out of a war with the pirates."

"I'm not sure anyone can ever really be at war with pirates," Fisher mused aloud, his eyes raised, "It would be akin to being at war with thieves or prostitutes. You could win many victories in battle, but never the war."

"Then your realms haven't been trying hard enough," I said, well aware of my own world's history in that regard, "Mariette, any other reason that Ostwick's territory is a bad choice?"

The harlequin moved the stick along the south coast of the Marches. "It's heavily populated," she said, "Five hundred thousand or so live in the Ost Valley, which is maybe the size of the Fereldan Bannorn or the Emprise du Lion. Sixty thousand in Ostwick itself."

"Far too many," I said, "And in too small a space."

"The nobles are well connected," Mariette continued, "The Teryn has a marriage alliance with the Vaels of Starkhaven. Bann Trevelyan is connected by marriage to Nevarra, and maintains strong relations with a number of families in Antiva." The Trevelyans had relatives as far afield as Tevinter, in fact.

"Just to add insult to injury," I replied, "They'd be able to call half the continent down on our heads."

"They are also quite xenophobic," said Tam from over my shoulder, joining the fun, "I took ship to Orlais from Ostwick. My presence in their city was not appreciated."

I looked up at her from my chair, and saw that she was not sharing pleasant memories. "I've changed my mind," I joked, "Maybe we do need to visit Ostwick, to give them a hundred and thirty gun salute."

Tam's face softened perceptibly at the idea, knowing full well it was a joke but one intended to have just that effect.

"Straight into their city walls, Marquis?" Soprano asked, with a wicked look in her eyes.

"For a start," I replied, "Just to put Ostwick to rest as an option entirely, is there anything else wrong with it?"

"One other thing, related to their defences," Hawke nodded, "I'm not sure if this is actually a bother to you, but their city has double walls."

The table went quiet at that, and looked to me for the answer. I wasn't entirely sure if it was a problem.

"Two concentric rings of thick fortifications," Louise explained, "Built after the Qunari were kicked out, to better resist bombard cannons. The Qun landed there during their invasion of the Free Marches. The Marchers did not want a repeat event, so the nobles of five cities nearby gave donations to building the outer ring."

"Double walls could be an issue," I said, quite prophetically, "It would certainly make an assault more complicated. But we could starve or shoot over the walls to pound the city into submission easily enough."

"Hopefully it won't come to that," said McNulty. Quite rightly too, he knew any assault before or after an attempt to starve or shell the city would have seen his Grenadiers at the fore. City assaults weren't actually something we had yet been forced to do, not without significant aid from within. Halamshiral was the closest to that we had experienced, and Halamshiral had practically given itself to us.

"Like I said, we're not going to step on Ostwick's toes," I said, "Not directly, not after all this shit that seems to be wrong with the place."

I turned back to Mariette. "What's next, Major?"

"The last settlement on the coast is Kirkwall," the harlequin said, moving west along the coast to another large river delta, "The largest trading hub in the Free Marches. Anything the Marchers on the Minanter don't want the pirates or Antiva to get a taste of, which is most things, flows through here. Most of Starkhaven's trade with Orlais moves through the Lowtown Docks. Tantervale, Wildervale and Hamsal's produce too."

"I'm beginning to understand why Orlais is the richest empire," I said, "Seems everybody wants what Orlais is selling."

"Only Orlais makes anything of worth," Louise declared happily, "Everyone else just pulls their value from the ground, from the backs of animals or from the stone. Our craftsmen are the best in the world."

"For the moment," I said, not doubting for a second that Leha had plans to make many many things of worth, "So, what's wrong with Kirkwall? Other than having one chantry less than it had a few years ago."

"Actually, Marquis, Kirkwall may be the best option," Mariette said, "It has no legitimate ruler. No standing army or navy. Its population is relatively low, and much of the city is empty since the beginning of the Mage Rebellion. It has rich mineral resources that can feed our industry. The Planasene Forest to the west can provide both wood for ships and fertile land once stripped. It's close to Orlais, but defensible from all directions. Controlling the strategic trade route could assure peace without us needing to unsheath our blades."

She tapped the stick on the map.

"Marquis, it is ripe for the plucking," the harlequin concluded, "You haven't asked me for my opinion, you want to go through all the options. That is a good idea, but my recommendation would be that we seize the city and make it our own."

My lips went dry at such a good prospect, as the positive part of my mind was ticking off items of Julie and Velarana's wishlist. But the cynic in me was screaming bloody murder. Something had to be wrong with the place.

"So nothing could hinder our … colonisation?" I asked

"Many things!" Hawke objected loudly, stormclouds gathering on her face, "I don't know where to begin!" She was leaning on the table towards me from the other end, red with something akin to fury. Something personal was up.

"Do you know the city?" I asked.

"I am the sister of the Champion of Kirkwall, I lived there for years, I was there when Anders... committed his crime," the Warden said, her voice rising even higher, "Of course I bloody know it!"

"Then you can tell us all about it," Fisher replied calmly, "Without making us all go deaf."

"Your word is valued here, Warden-Constable," Tam added smoothly, "Sam would not have allowed you to participate if that was not the case. Speak."

Bethany Hawke deflated slightly, hanging her head for a moment to gather herself. It took only a moment, and she raised her head to shoot a venomous glare at Mariette. The harlequin scoffed, and placed the stick down on the table, as if to lay down the gauntlet. 'Get on with it' being the message.

"Kirkwall is a ruin," Bethany started, "A lot of it, any way. When the Chantry was obliterated, the rubble fell on the city and destroyed many of the buildings. The Gallows, the former seat of the Circle and the Templars, is infected with red lyrium, which poisons the minds of anyone who gets near it for too long."

My eyes widened at that. Magical crap that screwed with your head was definitely not something I wanted to live near, even if I was immune to it. I suddenly wished Armen was a general, as perhaps he could tell me about the stuff. In truth, he couldn't have, it wasn't something the Chantry-approved scholars had any knowledge about and he wasn't allowed to serve as an officer while running for office anyway, just like Velarana couldn't.

"There's more," Hawke went on, "Kirkwall has many _many_ criminals. Murderers, thieves, assassins, swindlers, drunken idiots... There's barely anyone with honour in the whole place. Most of them are in the City Guard by now, thank the Maker."

Louise let out a single, false laugh. "Marquis, is this woman unfamiliar with who we are?" she asked in Orlesian, keeping her gaze fixed on the Warden, "Criminals are no challenge at all. We can clear out the entire city if we need to."

"It would be easy," Mariette agreed, also in Orlesian, "My cousin is right. Why should we be afraid of such dregs?"

"What are they saying?" Hawke cut in, clearly getting the right impression about the two de Villars' thoughts of her warning.

"They're not afraid of criminals," I said, "They're saying we could cleanse the city with ease, and I guess they were trying to be polite about suggesting that, since you probably know people there."

"The Coterie and the Carta are both highly organised and won't go down without taking half the city with them," said Hawke, "The City Guard will resist too. Aveline Vallen won't let you kill people indiscriminately."

"The local gendarmes and gangs are hardly a greater threat than chevaliers," Louise countered, "The Guard will be scattered if they block our way, the rest will follow." Like bowling pins, no doubt, as so many before had been. I couldn't see a police force being able to do anything about our troops. Perhaps that was overconfident of me, however.

"You are assuming they would fight fair, my lady," said McNulty, "Kirkwall is not Amaranthine, we can't count on getting the information we needed to cleanse the city here."

"Lowtown and Darktown's streets are far narrower too," Hawke said, coming to his support, "Any number of tunnels are underneath the city too, entirely unmapped. The Guard and the Carta could run rings around your soldiers, and you still die with arrows as easily as the next person. The Coterie could slip past your sentries and cut throats with ease."

That was a gross underestimation of our capabilities, and one I couldn't let go.

"That would be unfortunate," I said icily, "As I'd start raiding every house in the city to look for tunnel entrances, every dawn and dusk, until there were no houses left. I'm beginning to think that you are exaggerating to protect friends... or family."

Bethany recoiled slightly, and turned white as a sheet. Clearly, there was someone she was trying to protect. Two people, in fact. Her uncle and her cousin, as we later learned, of the much-esteemed Amell family no less. Guilt curled in my throat at the sight of her fear. Regretting losing my temper, I held up my palms.

"Look, it's not like I could sit around, letting my people get murdered," I said, "I'm not sure what you've said is good enough for me to dismiss the benefits of taking the city, is all I'm saying. If what Major de Villars has said is correct, going to war with a few criminal gangs and the City Guard would be a small price to pay."

I wasn't making things any better, Hawke remained distraught. I quickly added something a little more positive.

"Hell, an offer of help towards rebuilding the city could actually convince them that we're not evil occupiers, but people just looking for a new home. The criminals might not accept, but the Guard might."

Hawke lowered her eyes to the table, gaining sympathy from much of the Jaderite section of the table. But I had mitigated the worst of it.

"Now, is there any other objections to Kirkwall as our destination?" I said, opening the question to the floor.

One of the Jaderite captains, the CO of the _Justice_ and the oldest as far as I could tell, grunted in the affirmative. I had picked him out of the others already for his distinctive look; slicked back grey hair, puggish scowling face, rough tanned skin, loose clothing in dark sea colours. I called him Paulie Walnuts from that point onwards. Never to his face, because he was a fierce son of a bitch who didn't appreciate disrespect. Just like Paulie Walnuts. Pity he wasn't from Treviso in Antiva or Estwatch, or else he'd have been the genuine article.

"Yeah, I got one," he said in Orlesian, eyes darting to Mariette and her scowl, "Don't look at me like I just slapped you, pretty lady, it's not personal."

Mariette crossed her arms, and raised her eyebrows in impatience.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Kirkwall's pretty close to Jader, just across the water," said Paulie, "I hear things... heard things from the place often, back home. Word on the docks is that some prince or another wants the city. Something about hunting down the mage who blew up that Chantry?"

"Anders?" Mariette asked, curious. Aha, I thought, she knows something about this. But I wasn't about to stop Paulie fucking Walnuts continuing to speak.

"Yeah, that guy," Paulie continued, with a dismissive wave of the hand, "Anyway, if we don't want to go to war, knocking on Kirkwall's door might be a bad idea. That's all I'm saying."

Now that the man had stopped speaking, it seems I wasn't the only one with something to say about that.

"What did he say?" asked Bethany Hawke, no more fluent in Orlesian than Paulie was in Common, which was unusual for a sailor, but hey, the man had spent more time on the sea trapped with his fellow Orlesians than he ever had on land among people who spoke Common.

"He might have just saved Kirkwall from our wrath," Soprano explained.

Hawke's face brightened, colour returning to it fully at last.

"Is the captain right?" asked McNulty of Mariette, "Is there a prince with claims on Kirkwall?"

Mariette's scowl deepened, the lupine shape of her eyes coming out as they narrowed at Paulie. "The Prince of Starkhaven wants to invade," she admitted sourly, "But only so he can hunt down the mage. Probably. There's no reason we can't cooperate with him in doing that."

This was not good news for Kirkwall's prospects. I rubbed my face, getting tired. "Or it's an excuse for Starkhaven to annex the one of the largest trade ports in Thedas," I said, "Not to mention that if Julie is High Chancellor, she'll tell the Prince of Starkhaven to go fuck himself with a spear if he comes demanding a literal witch hunt."

"Assuming she wins," said Fisher, betraying no feelings either way on the potential result of the election.

"Assuming," I shot back, not actually willing to assume any other eventuality.

"I still say it is worth the risk," Mariette said, standing firm behind her position, "The worst case scenario is war with Starkhaven. Our forces are superior to Starkhaven's alone, and the other Marcher states are unlikely to want to join just so Vael can have more power." Not a bad assessment, really.

"Marquis, the Vimmark Mountains provide an excellent natural defence against Starkhaven," Soprano said, foregoing the stick and using her finger to point out the mountain range to the north of Kirkwall, "I believe that we need to blood the Army and preferably the Navy too. As a message to all of them that we're not to be dismissed or exploited. Better that it be blood spilled over something that won't draw in the rest of the locals. Or Antiva and Nevarra."

"The Vimmark Mountains are full of darkspawn and draconids," Hawke said, "And with the army out of the city, you can expect riots and attacks on your people left behind."

"Okay," I sighed, "It looks like Kirkwall's out as our first option if Warden Hawke is even half right about it, but I can't ignore what Major de Villars has said either. We'll leave it on the table as Plan B, just in case something shows up badly in our reconnaissance of Plan A."

The Plan A we still didn't have. By process of elimination, we only had uninhabited or unclaimed areas left to discuss, and they could be potentially even more contentious than the places people actually lived in. There was usually a reason people didn't live in a particular spot. Mentally exhausted, I looked outside the window, and saw that it was pitch black. We had been going on for quite some time.

"I think we need some time to cool our tempers," I declared, standing up, "The commission is adjourned until tomorrow. We'll get together again around midday. Dismissed."

* * *

Tam and I managed to drag ourselves to our bedroom, where a very pleased-looking Julie was already waiting in the furs flung across the large, royal bed. Naked, lit up by the fireplace alone. I felt some of my exhaustion lift, all of a sudden. Not all of it though. Not enough that it might have mattered. If only.

"How'd it go?" she beamed at the two of us.

"I am not sure," Tam replied, pulling off her boots, "We dismissed many places, and even agreed upon an option in case we do not come to any solid conclusion."

Julie's beaming smile died down a little. "What does that mean?" she asked, "Have you got a recommendation to make or not?"

Neither Tam nor I seemed to be able to answer, continuing to get out of our clothes. We didn't want to let Julie down, even if we had only been at it a day. Eventually, when we had completed the task of disrobing and we were getting into bed, I gathered the courage to say the absolute truth.

"We don't," I said, laying down beside her, "Unless... well, would you like to live in Kirkwall?"

Our glorious leader's upper lip curled in disgust. "Kirkwall?" she whispered incredulously, "That cesspit?"

"It has much to recommend it," Tam said non-committally, "At least, according to Mariette de Villars." The Qunari climbed in on my side, leaving me in the middle. Which was something I appreciated, given the temperature the room would drop to in the night.

"Warden Hawke thinks otherwise," I added, closing my eyes.

The mention of Mariette de Villars coming up the idea may very well have been the final nail in the coffin, however. Julie grumbled to herself for a minute, thinking aloud and incoherently, before making her own declaration on the matter.

"Kirkwall is not suitable," she said, "We need to build something new, not to camp out on broken remains."

"Broken remains that the Prince of Starkhaven badly wants," Tam yawned, curling an arm around me, "Do we want to go to war over that?"

"Like I care what a prince thinks," Julie snorted, settling down on my shoulder, "I just don't want to live in a place with a reputation like Kirkwall's. Many of our families are expecting, remember? Is Kirkwall where you want them to give birth?"

I hadn't considered that angle. Sure enough, it probably would have taken years for us to fully pacify the city. The formative years of the Sahrnia Generation, no less. Suddenly, I felt like ruling it out completely come the next day, but the cynic in me again spoke, telling me that we couldn't do that without an alternative presenting itself first.

"No, it isn't," I said, answering Julie at last, "We're not done yet. I'll pass on your dislike of the place to the commission."

"Don't," Julie said sleepily, "I need to appear neutral, remember?"

And with that, she fell asleep, propped up against me. Tam already was asleep, in a similar condition. Feeling I had full permission to do the same, I fell unconscious like a switch had been turned, ready to take as many of the available forty winks as I could.

* * *

The meeting the next day did not go as smoothly as I hoped, despite me having chairs brought in for everyone this time. Comfortable, padded ones too.

The argument over Kirkwall resumed in full force, lasting over an hour. Those for taking the city, namely Mariette, Louise and Soprano, kept pointing out the benefits of both the resources available and the possibility of an early victory against Starkhaven. Those against, Hawke, McNulty and some of the Jaderite captains, maintained that the war inside the city would not be so easily won and that the inhabitants would likely not accept us as rulers.

The neutral parties, rallying around Mike for the most part, attempted to mediate the two sides. Settling near Kirkwall, settling in the Planasene Forest itself, seeing about splitting the city between the current inhabitants and our own people, all compromises were rejected, albeit politely and with appreciation for the attempts.

I was content to let this play out, simply because it was giving me plenty of rope to hang the idea with and let the officers blow off some steam.

Fisher was less patient than I was. He became increasingly agitated with the whole process, tapping his fingers on the table and speaking in harsh but quiet tones to Paulie Walnuts. Eventually, he cracked.

"Enough!" came the call, "This bickering is done. I'm Admiral of the Free Navy, and I say that Kirkwall is ruled out!"

The bickering did indeed stop... but only in anticipation of a far more vicious argument over the authority Fisher had to make such a call. The Army heads turned to me, the faces on them asking the unspoken question of 'Are you going to let him get away with that?' The Navy's people seemed to murmur to themselves, as if discussing how to react if my answer to that question was negative.

I was just glad the previous argument was over. "You heard the man," I breathed, shifting in my chair, "We've spent too much time on Kirkwall. We've heard each side's points three times on this. We're done. It'll be held in reserve, like I said before."

Mariette pouted, reminding me strongly of the fact that she was a good deal younger than I was. As if I needed more reminding. "What other option is there?" she said, "We ruled out the Planasene Forest, remember? When the compromise was proposed?"

I didn't fully remember, but I wasn't about to reopen that line of inquiry either by asking for the details. "Which leaves us what?" I asked, rhetorically. Before anyone could respond as if it were a real inquiry, I stood and looked over the map more closely. Taking a ballpoint pen out from my pocket, I began marking crosses next to the names and areas of the places we had rejected. I needed the visual aid to get a handle on it.

Rivain, Antiva, the Minanter, Wycome, Hercinia, Ostwick, the Ost Valley (or Val Ost in Orlesian), Kirkwall, and the Planasene.

That left pretty much nowhere available to us, barring a stretch of shore stretching from Ostwick to Hercinia, wedged between the continuing hills of the Vimmarks and the sea. Which I figured probably belonged to Ostwick too, if not Hercinia. Markham was also close, albeit at the other side of those hills. But there was one thing that caught my eye for the first time, as I examined it.

"What's this island here?" I asked, pointing to the place in question off the coast previously mentioned, "Does it belong to anyone?"

Mariette was at a loss or was pretending to be very well, but the Navy guys seemed to know. They looked at each other, not quite sure how to reply. They were avoiding telling me something. It annoyed me, and I clicked my tongue once, nodding that I understood they were doing so.

"Is it just too small?" I asked, "Or is it infested with man-eating sirens? What's the problem with this one?" For thirty-five, forty thousand, it was just big enough, in fact.

"It's the Ile des Chiens, Marquis," said Fisher, before translating his Orlesian, "The Isle of Dogs."

Tam let out a warning groan. She had heard of it, and what she had heard was far from what we were looking for.

"I'm guessing it's not called that because it's full of dogs," I continued, "Hell, if it was, I'd say we've found our spot."

"Oh, there's dogs there alright," Paulie said, again in Orlesian, "What else do you call sons of bitches?"

The pun got a good laugh, from both Army and Navy sides of the table. Even I smiled at it, half because it lightened the mood for the first time since the meeting had begun.

"So it's inhabited?" I asked, "By?"

I began drinking deeply from a mug of ale as I listened.

"No one lives there," Fisher replied, "But pirates use it as a storm shelter and a trading post for offloading goods to their Antivan fences. The bay there is the Bay of Dolphins, there's lots of sandy beaches for them to pull the ships up for repairs too, both on the island itself and along the coast of the Val Halla."

I nearly drowned in my ale at the last three familiar syllables, spluttering into my mug. I thought for a moment that I had misheard. The 'h' is silent in Orlesian, after all.

"Val what?" I coughed, "Repeat that those last words!"

"Val Halla," Fisher replied, again remembering that it was the Orlesian name for the place, "Valley of the halla. Loads of them running around there, Dalish too."

"It's been called that since at least the Fourth Blight," Mariette added, "I knew a gentleman in Ostwick who couldn't stop talking about how great the hunting was there. Said his great grandfather hunted in the same valley. Had to shove a bottle of Val Foret's finest into his mouth to shut him up."

That guy was also a Trevelyan, another coincidence. Between the Amells and the Trevelyans, we're getting a lot of those in this part of the retelling... But I digress. The name of the valley in Orlesian made me curious about the place, due to a parallel with a myth from Earth...

"Tell me about Val Halla," I said, leaning back in my chair, "Is it claimed?"

"Yes... and no," Mariette replied, "Ostwick and Markham have overlapping claims to the southernmost two thirds of the land, and Hercinia's nobles use their end of the valley for their own purposes, but none have exercised any power over the place in many years. They hunt there, that is all."

"For good reason," said Fisher, "It's full of threats. Hercinia's criminals to the north-east, pirates and raiders off the coast, darkspawn in the hills, Dalish and Qunari camping out in the forests... I saw the Qunari with my own eyes when I was off the Ile des Chiens a good few years ago, looked positively savage."

Tam hummed a deep note of thought. "There are no Qunari there," she declared, "Which means the ones you are referring to are Tal Vashoth. Kossith, is what we call the race I belong to. Qunari is a … political term. Vashoth are potentially more aggressive than true followers of the Qun, but perhaps are less dangerous to us, as they do not have blackpowder nor a fleet."

"Aren't you Tal Vashoth?" Soprano asked.

"I am... a different kind of Tal Vashoth," Tam replied, "I do not reject a code by which to live. I simply exchanged the Qun for the ideals of the Free Army, although it took some time and help for me to do so." She laid a hand on my arm, indicating that some of the help had come from me.

"These ones however are savages, as the Admiral has said," she continued, "Almost all of the Tal Vashoth do not believe in any code save for personal gain and pleasure. Not every single one, but enough that we should be wary of them."

"If they have no blackpowder and no fleet, I'm not sure we should be overly wary," Louise replied, "The darkspawn worry me more."

"So, if we moved there," I said, coming to the point, "Ostwick, Markham and Hercinia would do... what?"

"Nothing," said Hawke with certainty, finally intervening, "At least at first."

That certainty peaked my interest. "You've been there," I said, reading her like a book.

"The Admiral is correct," she replied, "There are darkspawn there. Old exits from the Deep Roads too. Not many of either, but enough to scare people away, especially combined with the other threats."

"I don't think the Ostwick nobility would appreciate a direct challenge to their ancestral claims," Mariette countered, "Even if the nobles of Markham are too busy putting their noses in books, those of Ostwick are fighters. They will resist"

"Commoners are afraid of the valley," said Hawke, to me rather than Mariette, "And Ostwick is more like Ferelden in how decisions are made. The city will not act unless the commoners are stirred up to do so, and you simply arriving would not be enough. The claims on the valley are the nobles' own, not the city's property."

"The nobles still rule the city," Mariette pointed out, "And outrage can be fabricated. I've done it myself enough times to be sure of that." Ain't that the damn truth, girl.

"Let them fabricate," said Soprano, "Ostwick's walls won't be any use to them in the field. Yesterday, you said they have a standing army. Today, I ask you a simple question; Have they got thirty thousand troops under arms, with firelances, cannon and cavalry?"

The harlequin just barely managed to restrain a glance of contempt for the obvious answer. "No," said Mariette, "They don't."

"Just as with Kirkwall, we can spill blood if it becomes necessary," said Soprano, "And while Ostwick may have many ties to other cities, will those alliances be honoured for something like this? Land of no value to anyone because of the threats within it, they can hardly complain."

She pointed to the hills framing the valley against the sea.

"These heights are just as good as the mountains north of Kirkwall for defence," she said, "And there's only a small gap for Ostwick to come through in the south-west. The valley is defensible from land, I can tell you that much."

"As can I," Hawke agreed.

It would have been cleared out years ago if that wasn't true. Mariette appeared convinced, holding her chin and scanning the map with her blue irises rapidly.

"So, General," I said, "You propose Val Halla as our destination?" Better that it not sound entirely like my idea, as far as the politics of it all were concerned.

"I would have before now, if I had known about the conflicting claims," Soprano replied, "The other dangers make it even more desirable."

"More dangers makes it more desirable?" Mike asked, "How?"

"The darkspawn, the Tal-Vashoth and the pirates are not actually dangerous to us," Soprano explained, "As long as we're vigilant. We have Grey Wardens, an Army and a Navy to deal with each of those threats. The real danger lies in the Marcher cities uniting against us. By taking land which two or even three cities claim, we're dividing the possible alliance that could be raised against us. The smaller dangers make it less likely that they'll do anything at all."

"Divide and conquer," I nodded, having come to a similar conclusion myself, "Keep them bickering over who actually owns the valley, and we'll buy enough time to become unassailable."

"But does the valley fulfil the needs that Julie set out?" Tam asked, "Truly?"

"It is fertile, if that's what you're asking," said Hawke, "Lots of green, despite the darkspawn."

"It wasn't," said Tam, "It seems to be relatively safe and defensible, thanks to the arrangement of dangers, it seems to be inoffensive to other cities' claims, because they all overlap, now you say it is fertile, despite having blighted creatures wandering around... It seems to be the almost opposite of what was requested of us, in almost every category. There's only one other thing. Is it close enough to Orlais?"

Fisher stood, and traced a line through the sea from the Bay of Dolphins to Jader. He counted something off on his fingers, and gave a satisfied tilt of the head. "It's close enough," he said, "Just close enough." Indeed, it proved to be so in quite dramatic a fashion.

"I'm not sure if we should approve or disapprove," Tam said, shaking her head.

"At least it's better than Kirkwall," said McNulty, "No dirty streetfighting."

"I think Hell would be better than Kirkwall at this point," I said, "So... does anyone have any concrete objections? Is there something here I'm missing that we can't reasonably overcome?"

Mike raised a hand. "How big is Ostwick's standing army?"

Mariette smirked. "Ten thousand."

The rest of the table found that number truly hilarious. Even if Ostwick had firelances, we could have crushed that many easily. Of course, they could still levy the peasantry like any other feudal kingdom, but I doubt that would raise their numbers to more than fifty thousand. Which would be difficult to beat in absolute terms, but probably wasn't sustainable for the Ostwickers to maintain for any real period of time.

"Gendarmes?" Louise asked her cousin.

"They are counted in the ten thousand," Mariette replied, "Only the Long Watch are worthy of the title of soldiers, but they very much deserve it. The High Watch and Close Watch are border guards and constables. They fight often, but not with real warriors." Or bards, for that matter.

"So, no real objections to Val Halla," I said, We have come to a decision?" Everyone seemed compliant, happy with it as far as can be.

"I believe we have, Marquis," said Fisher, speaking for the group, "I can organise a ship to investigate the Bay of Dolphins immediately."

"I'll do it," said Paulie, "I'm the only one with the experience to sail in this shit weather anyway."

Fisher grimaced, like he wanted to object, but had the common sense to keep a lid on it.

"Thank God," I said, "I'll inform the fraternity leaders."

"Do you think they'll approve of it?" Tam asked from beside me.

"Not my problem," I replied, "They asked us for a recommendation. We gave it our best shot. Better than 150 people arguing about it for months on end, I'm sure."

"Lucky you spotted the Ile des Chiens and asked about it," said Soprano, "Or we might have been here for much longer." Noises of agreement sounded from many throats at that.

"Actually, it was the name of the valley that got me thinking," I said, sloshing my drink in the mug. The origins of which were told to me as a child, inspiring my love for mythology of all kinds. Celtic, Viking, Greek, Roman, Native American... I couldn't help but want to pass on the tales.

"Since we have a good bit of beer left, let me tell you the story about Valhalla and the Valkyries..."

* * *

 _AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story has just passed a triple milestone. It's now my most-favourited story, surpassing Battlefield 2183. It just went past 500 followers, which is amazing. And it is now on the first page of Dragon Age fictions on this site. All very encouraging signs for the quality of my writing! I'm very pleased.  
_

 _Sorry to you all for not putting anything out in the past few weeks. I was on vacation, and then I got sick for a week and a half. Courtesy of a fine gentleman who sneezed on me on the plane when travelling home, I caught death. The wish to shove him out of the vehicle without a parachute was damn near overwhelming at the time! It's all the more so now._

 _A lot happens in this chapter. Not sure how else to put it. Probably in dire need of a rolling edit, which shall be done._

 _Either way, I hope you all enjoyed it!_

 _ **Thepkrmgc:**_ _Sam's niece is probably going to be the protagonist of the sequel, in fact. I'm planning that to occur around the time period of the next DA game, so it's a long ways off yet._

 _As for your prediction, you're actually correct. But I ask you this: Who is the Lady of the Skies?_

 _ **5 Coloured Walker:**_ _Gotta love those succession wars... at a nice centuries' long remove._

 _ **Katkiller-V:**_ _Got to first apologise to you for not reviewing your stuff of late, need to catch up on it._

 _Duration is indeed the problem. No shortage of instances of democracies falling to oligarchy and corruption, despotism following close behind._

 _Family and name always mean something. The Kennedys, the Clintons, the Bushs, the Churchills, etc etc. There's no shortage of dynasty play in democracies. But does that mean such things are no threat to democracy? That's the question at stake here._

 _Velarana is angling for something other than a revolutionary republic. What form exactly that will take, you'll have to wait and see. The British model is in the mix, but isn't the foundation._

 _I'm not sure Julie will start wars, if/when she wins, simply because she can't just stamp her feet and make public support appear in the Free Marches. She's a democrat and a republican, sure, but she's not an internationalist or a socialist. That'll come out more clearly in the next chapter._

 _And yep, harems are terrible ideas, and yep, Sam wants to put that aside because... doing anything else would force him to choose between people he wants to keep close._

 _ **Dekuton:**_ _I'm not sure Julie is like the nobles she has issues with, for one particular reason... She's called elections in which she could lose power. Sure, she's been ruling the entire army more or less as dictator since leaving Hearth, but that's something that was necessary. Objectively speaking._

 _Some of those voting may agree with you, however, because the necessity isn't so obvious to all._

 _As for the rest of it, the personality flaws and her love of the adoration, that's pretty much correct. Those flaws are shared by pretty much every leader on some level, I think. You don't get into those sorts of positions without having a little too much self-confidence in your abilities. You'd crumble as a leader otherwise._

 _ **Stormtide Leviathan, Lord Mortem**_ _Cheers!_

 _ **Tusken1602:**_ _That's the vibe I was going for, so I'm very glad to hear that it worked. Thanks!_

 _ **Zx:**_ _I hope you'll keep reviewing, always glad when someone does so particularly without an account._

 _ **The Maker:**_ _The Maker commands, and we obey._

 _Over the hills and far away!_

 _ **Viper:**_ _Here's another, apologies in particular to you for the delay._

 _ **Twinbuster2:**_ _Inquisition is part of this fic. We're at the end of 9:39 at this chapter, so it's a little over a year until the Conclave. Inquisition characters will be thick on the ground from now on though, we're heading to the Free Marches after all (where the Inquisitors are all from)._

 _ **Pyrojack:**_ _I'm glad you found it interesting._

 _ **Ironman088:**_ _Very high praise indeed._

 _ **Tmroc725:**_ _Who do you know/work with that has favourited this? I'm intrigued._

 _I'm surprised you can enjoy this without having played the games, to be honest, but I'll take it as a great compliment that I can write characters well enough for that to be the case._

 _Soprano was a candidate... but she's a general. Sam, to some remaining extent, likes to think of himself as a professional. Another obstacle for Mariette to jump, I might add... Who said that Mariette's getting in on the action to the point of having children? Just a premonition on your part? I'm tempted to spoil now on whether or not she does._

 _Velarana has her agenda, and the Admiral has his. Do they coincide? Not exactly. We'll see._


	52. Chapter 52: Res Publica

**Chapter Fifty-Two: Res Publica**

The fraternities did indeed approve of our recommendation.

The _Justice_ left Amaranthine on December 3rd for the shores of Valhalla, under Paulie Walnuts' command, two weeks or so before the election. The good captain was to survey the Bay of Dolphins and the Ile des Chiens for any insurmountable threats or obstacles. He was due back on the 13th, which was far more time than he needed to get there and back, but he was also given the task of gathering news about the situation in the wider world. We had no network to keep us up to date on goings on. The 13th was two days before the scheduled election.

Just enough time for it to be made into an election issue if any of the major political factions wanted to object, but not enough for any serious alternative to be presented.

I had made sure of that by giving that space of time for the job. Covering my ass, and more importantly the asses of the entire High Command, was high on my priority list. No one could complain that Fisher and I did not deliver on our task, and no one could imply a problem with our reasoning either, not without looking like they were jumping the gun.

All factions quietly agreed to accept the recommendation, courtesy of how little wiggle room I had given. I was pleased as punch about that. Regardless, I had other duties.

Keeping order during the election campaign being the primary one. It was the Fereldans who were the biggest issue. Their curiosity seemed to be getting the better of them, at best. A sense of amusingly haughty superiority at worst. There was wide bemusement at the concept of people barely a step up from peasants being able to choose the very same class of people as leaders. There were far less flattering things said about being able to choose an elf or mage.

It was a very good thing the bulk of our people could not actually speak the Common tongue, one of the few times that particular piece of Orlesian social engineering by the nobles played out in our favour. Many Fereldans would likely have died by fusillade otherwise. The temptation to make an example of them was pretty weighty on my own shoulders, but I got through it by reminding myself that it wasn't my job or the right thing to do to punish people for their stupid prejudices. I had plenty of my own, once upon a time.

Regardless, the first public debate on the matter of leadership of Troy was scheduled for December 8th, a week before the vote. Two more would follow on the 10th and the 12th. All three had a theme of sorts, something Velarana had insisted on 'to avoid confusion and anarchy'. Something she was a fan of, evidently.

The first was to be what sort of country we intended to have. The election was choosing not only a government, but the people who would decide what kind of government we intended to have for years to come. They would only be empowered for a year, at which time we'd have another election. Some things were more or less locked in stone on this front already. The decisions under Free Orlais were considered to still stand, as were Julie's decrees. So, we'd have an Assembly and a High Chancellor elected by it to lead it. Pretty much everything else was up in the air.

The second was about the rest of Thedas. Our soon-to-be neighbours, the Chantry, the great powers, and the mother country; Orlais. What relationship did we want with the rest of the world? Ideally and practically. Velarana's insistence on having a separate debate seemed like a trap to me; Julie was bound to be put on the spot about what she planned. Most of the world had little doubt she would declare a crusade to liberate the Free Marches from its nobility. I wasn't so sure. Julie was a zealot, but she wasn't a fool.

The third debate was about what sort of economy we wanted, and that was a very serious question too. We were to settle on what was effectively virgin land, how would it be distributed? How would taxes be organised? My Earth books introduced the concept of different forms of currency, what sort of money would we use?

I was pretty sure what Julie wanted on this. She was a radical anti-monarchist, but she was no collectivist. On the other hand, Velarana was a complete enigma on the subject of money. She had never expressed any ideals publicly on the subject, and was pretty vague on the subject until the debates themselves. Lots of talk about good governance and improvement over what had come before, but very little talk of details.

The debates are very interesting history if you're into that sort of thing, though even those without such an interest need to know about them to understand just what we were building up from the ashes of our previous failure.

The debates were to be held in the main Chantry chapel, the building with the largest room available, with the added bonus of also having the best acoustics. People were randomly selected from the regiments, as our electoral districts were and continue to be called, to attend. As were the journalists, and an Army archiver. There are extensive, sometimes conflicting records of what happened at each event. I will recall my own version of what happened here, but perhaps more interesting to me at the time was something else.

December 8th was the day I found out _exactly_ why Julie was a zealot.

* * *

The Chantry required extensive preparation for hosting the debate.

Our wounded had to be moved safely to Anora's Watch, into the ballroom there. That was an easy task. Markham had done his job to the best of his ability, there weren't many that needed constant care by this point in our occupation.

Sentries around the Chantry quarter had to be shifted to reflect the fact that thousands of our own people would be making their way to the place from the docks, and not in a trickle over time. No need to invite an attack during that particular procession.

Cannon positions had to be set up just in case there was an attempt to disrupt the democratic process by an undiscovered patriotic conspiracy, which never in fact emerged or existed in any real form, but one we had to be ready for just in case.

The lists of candidates had to be put up, as the deadline for standing for election had passed at midnight before. Half the presses in the city would be printing out ballot papers for the next week.

And lastly, a decent amount of firewood, food and drink had to be brought, because keeping the crowd comfortable and happy was part of my cunning plan to keep the whole political process civil. Last thing we needed was our own people battering each other over the head in front of the few Fereldans who would be attending.

I oversaw all of this in the morning from nearby the main doors of the Chantry, somewhat bored and more than a little cold, watching Templars, Hospitallers and Tranquil mill about, either on jobs or just loitering. The Amaranthine Chantry was considerably larger than the one in Hearth had been, and had more ornate stone carvings, but lacked the gilding that you saw in Orlesian chantries. Probably because the gold would have been stolen in some way if the Templars weren't on guard, which was a little too manpower intensive for them to bother with. Ferelden, what can I say.

Tam and Claire were keeping me company, Julie having volunteered to take care of Victoire and Patrice until the time came to go. Whether or not that betrayed nerves on her part has been speculated upon often, but I don't think she was worried at all. I think she just wanted a reminder of her motivations, at their core.

"Are those really necessary?" asked Claire, pointing at the cannons nearby being bagged down by Tranquil in fur coats.

"I hope not," I said, "But you know how it is, hope for the best, prepare for the worst."

"And those things firing on a crowd would definitely be the worst," Tam added. Very true, I thought.

Claire's eyes turned to the lists of the candidates beside us, hanging from the large double wooden doors. Her eyes scanned the list for her own name, drawing my own curiosity. She found it at the top of the Libertarian list for the 36th Reserve Regiment, which was in fact made up entirely of civilians. I came beside her and put my hand on her shoulder, trying to show my support.

"Thirty-three thousand voters, one hundred and sixty five seats, three to six seats per regiment," I said quietly, "You only need two hundred votes to win, and you're at the top of your regiment's list."

Being elected was different to what I was used to. It wasn't the system used in my homeland. You voted for a party list in your own regiment, and the percentages determined who got elected. Results were rounded up or down to give the best possible representation according to whoever had 'spare' votes. It was entirely alien to me, but one that Leha had come up with to keep things looking on the level.

If it had been done the way I was used to, the result wouldn't have reflected the true political feeling of the people out there... but it probably would have been more decisive. I suspect Leha was making sure that the Lucrosians didn't get cut out of power entirely. Maybe only one in twenty people would vote for her party, but there was no way in hell she would have got one in twenty of the seats if we had straight run-offs, most votes wins outright.

Claire sighed, and looked at me with wide eyes. "Winning is not what I'm worried about," she said, "I'm foster mother to my sister's children... but Julie is the elder sister, and I took that responsibility from her because I said involvement in politics was too dangerous. Yet here I am, competing for a place in that world..."

"You think you're putting the children in danger?" I asked, "I don't think only people without children should be willing to take that risk."

"That's the thing," Claire said, "I believe what Julie believes... I just don't have the fire that she seems to. There are days where she seems like she could burn down the world with her passion for these matters."

"As we are very well aware," Tam smiled from the side, "But the Libertarians need cooler heads also. That you have both a cool head and a familial relationship to the leader of the fraternity is doubly useful."

"You think I have a duty to run?" Claire asked, "I'm too young for this."

"Almost everyone in this army is young," I noted aloud, looking up at the sky to see if it would rain, "Well, young enough. I'm getting old."

Tam scoffed at that, which was probably the best I could hope for given that she was older than I was by an indeterminate but small number of years. The way Claire's face contorted every so slightly also told me she didn't agree either.

"Either way, decisions need to be made," I pressed on, "And by the best people. You're on that list because both your sister and your fraternity agree you're among the best. I think maybe you do have a duty, if only to make the best possible outcome for your niece and nephew."

Claire seemed more accepting of that line of argument, nodding once to herself and looking at the lists again.

I looked up and down them myself, having never really done so during the process of gathering them. I wondered who was running and for what faction. I quickly spotted Armen's name at the top of the list for the 1st Mage Regiment. Ciara was second on the Guard's list, right after Louise de Villars, and was probably the only elf on that list. Leha was on the Lucrosian list for the same regiment. At the top, naturally.

Velarana was at the top of the Aequitarian list for the Mage Regiment, in direct competition with Armen but very unlikely to miss out on a spot because of how politically divided that regiment was. Julie was at the top of the Libertarian list for the Rangers. Both leaders were sure of their place in the Assembly, in other words.

I could see why only the Libertarian and Aequitarian leaders would be in the debate at once; they were the only two fraternities that were running enough candidates to win anything like a majority. All those running in a regiment had to be from that regiment. I acknowledged this fact, my eyes still moving over the paper, when I spotted something very unusual.

Two electoral regiments had a Jaderite fraternity running in them and in no others... My mind immediately jumped, like I had found the smoking gun. More amusing was the fact that every single one of the candidates put forward for the seven seats seemed to be a woman.

"So that's what Fisher has been up to," I said to Tam, pointing, "Velarana must have offered something for those seats."

"It also appears he believes the place correct place for a woman is in the National Assembly," Tam remarked, squinting slightly at the list, "Just not on a ship."

Sailors' superstitions are particularly hard to break.

"He doesn't seem afraid of the contradiction," I agreed, "But you have to remember that all of the Jader men are in the Navy, they can't be on the list... unless they're noble, which none of them are. It seems Julie knows too, she's only got one candidate each for the Jaderite regiments."

"Do you believe that the Admiral was offered an alliance?" Tam asked.

"I think I gave him by accident what Velarana offered," I replied, "He wanted position, power... The Admiral's hat. Which is strange, because I don't know why he'd want it. All he wanted before was shelter for his people."

"Admirals don't go hungry," Tam remarked, turning away from the lists, "That's reason enough." Her use of the Orlesian term for an oceangoing commander rather than the Qunari term differentiated her conceptions of the rank accordingly.

"I think safety for his people is still what he wants," Claire said, "With his position, he can make sure his people have a place in the new order."

Both assessments weren't far off the mark, though they didn't exactly capture the scale of Fisher's ambition. Not by a long shot.

"Hopefully that's all he wants," I said. Before I could add anything further, movement in my peripheral vision had me looking to see what it was.

Grand-Cleric Brandon was rushing towards me from inside the Chantry, with a half down lay sisters in tow behind her, struggling to keep her hat on the top of her head and her robes in good order as she moved. She was too slightly small for them both, but she wasn't a large person by any means. Made up for it by being loud.

"Marquis, a word!" she called across, her voice carried by the stone of the building, "An urgent word!" She waved a piece of paper at me as if to get my attention.

I breathed out in exasperation. I wondered if it was because I had not been keeping up with my lessons on the Chant. Lana still came over at the appointed times to teach, but she always ended up just following me around as I did my own duties, sometimes cutting in with witty remarks or quotes from the Chant to back up my opinions or orders. It was cute as hell, but it wasn't exactly a lesson in Andraste's life and teachings.

"Grand-Cleric," I said politely with a smile, "What can I do for you?"

"Have you seen this?" Brandon panted, holding up the paper as she arrived beside us, "Did you approve of this? The criers are going around, spouting the same thing!"

Not appreciating her tone, I snatched the paper from her hand and opened it up. It was one of Julie's pamphlets. A freshly printed one by the smell of ink around it. Inside was a print of the Statue of Liberty with more Andrastian elements on her robe, and the words 'Freedom to Believe'. The flipside had a text in a smaller font, promoting religious freedom and separation of chantry and state, and at the bottom; "Vote Libertarian!" So, I had an answer for Brandon after all.

"No, I haven't seen this before," I said, "But yes, I do approve."

Brandon gasped in shock. "M-marquis, she says that the Chantry should have no official place," she stuttered, "Worse... the Black Divine... the _Qun_?! There's nothing to stop either of them from _infecting_ our new city if the Chantry is not given pride of place! You must see the danger in that!"

Claire came up alongside me from behind, and the dear cleric blinked once, having not seen the sister of the woman she was criticising behind me before speaking.

"Grand-Cleric Brandon," said Claire sternly, "The Imperial Chantry holds slaves, and the Qun is not merely a faith, but a political doctrine of loyalty to the Qunari realm. Both are incompatible with our liberties. The Libertarians have no intention of pretending that either will be allowed to do whatever they wish. "

Very nice speech, but I detected that it must have been practiced. Scripted, even. Julie knew rightly that she couldn't piss off the Chantry types too much. I guessed right there and then that she had made sure every one of her candidates knew exactly what to say if challenged about religious freedom. In truth, it had been Armen's handiwork, him being far more familiar with the details of Chantry doctrines than Julie was.

The Grand-Cleric puffed up, not sure whether to take Claire's word on this. "So you can guarantee that the Qun and the False Chantry will not be present within our city?"

"No, we can't," I said, "The Qun doesn't announce itself, and I'm getting married to a Tevinter mage so that we can actually have a city, remember?"

Brandon's mouth curled in disgust. "Don't remind me, Marquis," she said, "I only thank the Maker that you are almost certainly immune to her spells. I hope you remain equally immune to her... feminine wiles."

I had to stop myself from pointing out that it was unlikely I would be immune to that, given my record on the matter. "So it's unavoidable that the Northern Chantry will have a presence," I continued, "Unless you'd rather stay here and conquer Ferelden?"

That drew another disgusted face from the cleric. "The Marquise is too bold," she said, "The Divine may not tolerate this."

"The Divine already tolerates a Circle that doesn't hold mages prisoner," I replied, "And I think she's going to have bigger problems soon enough."

"I would only pray that it is so, save for the damage that the Mage Rebellion could do if open warfare began," Brandon sighed, "For all our sakes, seek moderation. I would only ask that Julie refrain from doing anything that jeopardises our people."

"Your support is always appreciated," I said flatly, before changing my tone to one more respectful, "I'll pass your words on to Julie. I know she values your opinion. She might even do something about it. And please do pray, all the assistance we can get from the Maker is needed."

The cleric did not seem pleased, her mouth and nose wrinkled at the lack of customary immediate obedience. She was someone we didn't want as an enemy, but wanted even less as a master. She needed to conform to the new ways of doing things. Some might have called it foolish to simply deny her, but one has to remember that she endorsed me as a person chosen by the Maker. She couldn't have gone to any of the other factions without being called out by Julie for abandoning me. But it wasn't like I was comfortable leaving things like that either.

"I shall do as you ask, Marquis," Brandon said, inclining her head and making to go, "Excuse me."

"Grand-Cleric... Heloise, please," I said carefully, "Just talk to Julie about it. I'm sure there's something she can do. She won't give up these ideas, but she is still one of Andraste's flock. I'm sure she'd have no problem saying so to anyone and everyone. It's Chantry policy she disagrees with, not the theology."

Brandon actually broke out in a smile. "Marquis, you always know what to say," she said, "Your influence will be required in the days to come, in the likely event of the Marquise's victory. As I said, I will do as you ask." She left at a much more relaxed pace than she had arrived, moving off towards the local Revered Mother, Cooper I think her name was, who had been left waiting at the main Chanters' rostra at the back of the main hall.

"Julie's going all out," I said, waving the pamphlet about, "Not giving an inch in case the Chantry or others take a mile from the Aequitarians."

"It seems like a dangerous strategy," Tam said, "The majority believes as she does, that is certain. But can she convince them that the world will not try and destroy us for acting on those beliefs?"

"She'll try," Claire said, with absolute certainty, "Even if she thinks she would fail, she has to try."

"Why?" Tam asked, "As I understand it, she was this way before Sam came with his books. How did she become what she was? She is always vague about her motivations on this. It is a blind spot that I do not like."

Claire looked first at the ground, staring for nearly a minute, kneading her palms.

Tam and I exchanged a glance. We knew at once there was something that Julie hadn't told us. Claire finally met our Qunari lover with sad eyes. "She hasn't told you?"

"Told us what?" I asked.

"I can't believe it!" Claire half-shouted, "She's been going around all this time, and you don't even know!" She rubbed her face, as if trying to physically get the frustration out of her head.

Tam took her hand. "Then tell us," she said, "If it is that important."

"I'm not sure it is," Claire replied, "Do you know what she was doing before you arrived?"

It seemed like an obvious question to me. "Blacksmithing?" I said.

Claire shook her head. "No," she said, "Well, yes, but that wasn't all. She struck at the chevaliers however she could. Robbery, arson, trading information..."

"That sounds more like Leha," Tam thought aloud. It absolutely did, because there was money to be made in such things. Even arson let you rob the place while people were trying to put out the fires, a problem we've had before ourselves.

"Leha was the one who encouraged her to do it," Claire said, "She was in the Carta, you know?"

"Oh, we know," I said, "All too well."

"I should get to the real story," she continued, flustered, "You know that two years before you arrived, there was a war?"

"Yes," I replied. Not mentioning what I knew about it, because it was the war that the man who was Julie's stepfather and Claire's father had died in.

"The war was short but brutal," Claire said, "At one point, the Baron departed from Hearth on campaign. The chevaliers loyal to the lords of the Emprise were waiting for that in the woods nearby, and they made a surprise attack on the city."

Which likely would have been stripped of anything resembling professional soldiery.

"Shit," I exclaimed, "Did everyone get behind the walls in time?" I was thinking of the Smith Quarter, where Julie must have lived at that time, protected only by a wooden palisade.

"No, and worse, the chevaliers got inside the walls," Claire continued, "They were there to embarrass the Baron, make it look like he was weak. So they burned, looted and raped, killing only those that resisted. The town guards put up a fight, but they were fighting chevaliers..."

I felt my insides go cold at the thought.

"The fucking Great Game," Tam growled, letting loose a rare curse.

"Oh Claire," I said, "Don't tell me she … or you were..."

"No! We weren't," she said, "Thank the Maker. But it was a close thing. Three chevaliers got inside our house... it was only Elodie and I there at the time. They tore off our clothes to... you know. Julie burst into the room with her warhammer from the courtyard."

Claire audibly sucked in a breath, steeling herself. "They threatened us if she didn't put her weapon down, take down her clothes and go down on all fours beside us. She complied, and they got undressed. My father and a dwarf I had never met before came in through the side. They killed the first with a sword from behind as he was undoing his breeches..."

"You don't need to give me the details," I said, "I think we get the idea. The bastards got killed." Not even a chevalier can adequately defend himself when his breeches are down around his ankles.

Claire nodded, thankfully. "The dwarf was Leha, whom had stumbled into our courtyard looking to shelter from the fighting just as Father came in looking for us," she said, "Together, we managed to get the house locked up, but all we could hear were screams and shouts for hours. The Baron returned later the same day, a bridge had collapsed, stopping him from getting too far to help. The other chevaliers fled as soon as he was spotted, their job done."

"Hopefully most of them died at Sahrnia," I growled, "Never more glad we won that battle."

"Most of them died at the siege of Valreal a few months later," Claire said, "The Baron and his allies chased after the chevaliers and laid siege to the keep they fled to. My father died there, overseeing the siege engines. The war ended with the Baron's victory there..."

"I'm sorry," I said, "I can see why that would make Julie hate chevaliers and nobles, but..."

"She doesn't forget anything she sees," Claire said, "So she can remember those chevaliers, pinning Elodie and I to the ground, our clothes torn off, their blades at our throats, being told to get dressed and down on her hands and knees... all in detail."

"You can't forgive if you can't forget," said Tam, her voice wavering.

I practically choked on that realisation. "Jesus Christ," I said, "That's terrible."

It made me feel like a complete asshole for ever opposing her plans for revolution, or at least for doing so in the way that I had. Some might think that it was Julie's fault for not explaining this to us, but such traumatic events are never easy to share. I myself have seen things on Earth and on Thedas I have no intention of sharing, at least not in person. Writing about them seems to help, rather than hurt.

"She vowed revenge," Claire continued, "After my father died. If Leha hadn't been around, maybe she would have settled down, but the dwarf was there. She said the best place to hit nobles was in their coinpurse and their reputation."

Another thing clicked in my head. "How Julie met Pierre... the baron, she snuck into a party..." I recalled, "She was trying to steal from him or get information she could use against him."

Claire nodded. "She partially blamed him for what had happened," she explained, "Not directly, of course. But once she had met him, got close to him with the goal of bringing him down, she eventually forgave him and counted him as an ally. She realised that it was stupid to blame absolutely all nobles as individuals. In fact, they worked closely together on some things, against particularly egregious chevaliers that happened to be the Baron's enemies."

Another piece of the puzzle. Why had Pierre been so quick to give me a piece of land and an Orlesian title, albeit the lowest in existence? Despite his obvious sexual jealousy? He trusted Julie and Leha's word on matters of state implicitly. I was presented as an asset, that much was clear from before. I just thought he had been taking a massive chance on me, but it appears he had trusted Julie from the start more than I knew.

The Game's many layers were still opaque to me.

"Julie worked with anyone she could to fight back," Claire said, "Some Carta, prostitutes that chevaliers liked, toughs who could tell her what was going on up and down the _Elfsblood_... She was a Red Jenny for a while, but they didn't want to stir things up like she did." Carta like Leha, prostitutes like Soprano and toughs like McNulty.

"Red Jenny?" Tam asked, "What?"

"It's hard to explain," Claire said, "They help ordinary people in however small ways they can. Everything from playing pranks on nobles to stealing things or killing dangerous people."

"So Julie was a prankster, spy and an assassin?" I asked, "I find that hard to believe."

An image entered my head of her placing a whoopee cushion on Gaspard's throne just before he sat down, followed by her stealing his war plans as the entire Orlesian court gasped in horror, and executing him with a Beretta to the sound of cheers of elves. I almost broke out laughing at the Looney Tunes absurdity of it all.

"No, not really," Claire said, "She was just a blacksmith almost every day. She had to take care of us, remember? On the other days, she and Leha were thieves, stealing what they could. She had to get enough for good clothes, smithing materials, not to mention dowries large enough for Elodie and I to marry good men..."

There's just not enough time in the world for revolution when you're a working person, something the socialists of Earth probably lament. Which is why they were all upper middle class intellectuals.

The reminder that Claire was in fact married made me think to ask about her husband, Yves Maçon, but I thought better of getting off the main point. I hadn't seen him around in a while. Maybe there was a good reason for that.

"But she either stole a little too much or was identified," I concluded, "So the chevaliers came to collect taxes on her, knowing they'd be able to lock her up for it."

"Julie met you in prison because she was a Libertarian all along," Tam said, "I'm beginning to see why she believes the Maker sent you to us."

I waved that off. "The magical immunity certainly helped," I said flatly.

"That's the story," Claire said, "Do you see now why she'll never back down?"

I did. "She has every motivation in the world, thanks to her memories," I said, "And won't betray the memory of her step-father, who died trying to get revenge."

"With the assassins' work on top," Tam added, referring to the killings of much of the leadership of Free Orlais just before the Halamshiral Campaign.

"I think the only reason you were so successful is because of what those chevaliers did," Claire said, "Hearth remembered who they were, their noble blood."

"How come I've never heard this story before?" I asked, "From someone else?"

"The Baron was ashamed of it, and forbade any mention of it," Claire said, "And no one in Hearth wanted to remember, because there was nothing we could do."

"Understandable," Tam said, "Though she should have told us. Such a thing would have helped us understand her better."

"She knew you would have loved her any way," Claire smiled, "And didn't want to trouble you with the thought."

"Well, I'm damn troubled now!" I said, "I'm sorry you had to recount all that to us. Those aren't happy memories."

"I'm luckier than some," Claire said.

"I need to see Julie," Tam declared, "Now." The look of sympathetic agony on her face was a sight to behold. She quickly gave me a kiss, before running to Fritz. She mounted up, getting a snort from the horse for good measure, shouting for the Tranquil in her way to move it. They complied, and she rode off in the direction of Anora's Watch down the main avenue of the quarter.

"That's Tam for you," I said to Claire, "Always worrying."

"That's why you both love her," Claire replied, "Strange as it is."

"True," I said, "I guess all I can say now is that I hope Julie can convince people. I don't know what Velarana wants, and we've been here three weeks. That tells me it can't be good."

Claire looked up at the lists again, away from my gaze. "We're going to try," she said, "I was there that night too."

* * *

The first debate was to start at noon, but it took a little longer to get everyone settled than expected. Soon, the Chantry was filled with our people, a mix of Orlesian masks, helmeted heads and chattering faces staring forwards. The front row given over to desks for those recording the event and the few Fereldan guests; _Arlessa_ Andras (wearing a flattering noble's dress that sent my eyes boggling), Warden Hawke, and Bann Howe.

There was barely room to move about in any direction, and the temperature of the bodies present spread into the air. Thankfully, the probable accompanying smells that effect usually creates were did not follow, the chandeliers that lit the hall also had incense slowly burning from them, the smoke drifting down and creating a foggy effect that was picked up by the candlelight.

Julie and Velarana stood some distance apart to the sides of the rostra, in front of two varnished lecterns that were usually used by the Chanters of the chapel. Julie had opted for the uniform of the British Army, desert-pattern fatigues complete with beret and jacket.

A reminder of just who had the Outlander wrapped around her finger? I liked the choice, if only because they emphasized Julie's natural attributes better than the puffy Orlesian dress she had worn on other political occasions.

Velarana stuck with the tried and true robes of an Aequitarian mage, dark coloured and flowing, the Chantry's Sunburst in light grey on the front of them.

The referee or moderator of the debate sat centrally behind them at a table, where he could be both seen and heard. The flag of Free Orlais was draped across its front. With him was Grand-Cleric Brandon, whom had insisted on assisting.

The referee was Baron des Arbes' old seneschal, Robert Clermont, who was still technically the highest judicial authority we had. Seneschals were more or less the equivalent of magistrates or district court judges, to use two analogies from two worlds, as well as administrators and chief heralds. He was wearing black satin with a white neck ruffle and an embroidered golden lion over his heart, more or less the uniform of his office.

He was Cecile des Arbes' former tutor, the man who had gotten her into legal practise, and had subsequently been inducted into the Orlesian nobility as a baronet when she married Pierre. A serious man, and never hesitated to point out that our rank in the Empire were the same; my title of Marquis was not formally recognised in the hierarchy even if it was socially recognised by all. We were both baronets according to the Council of Heralds, the civilian equivalent of chevaliers or knights.

I stood up against a wall near the front, leaning against a stone statue of Andraste herself. Tam and my other companions were with me, fully armed to dissuade any ideas about turning the event into a riot. Claire was on my other side. We were by a wall on Julie's side of the building.

On the other side, Velarana had a squad of knight-enchanters in padded armour, the hilts of their spirit blades tactfully kept out of display. I had given them a wave of my firelance, half in jest, half in warning to not go along with any bad ideas.

Needless to say, there was that sort of tension in the air.

McNulty and a platoon of Grenadiers were stationed at the main doors at the rear, where the electoral lists were. When the time came, they closed the doors and a nod from Brandon sent a lay sister pulling on a long, thick cord. The bells of the chapel rang out, deafening me and everyone else present, but announcing the end of chitchat and the beginning of the debate.

Clermont stood up, ran his hand through his grey black hair, and started things off.

"Welcome, citizens, to the first of three clashes," he intoned gravely, "In the war of words, the victor of which shall become our leader and High Chancellor. Today, the subject of battle is the Constitution. How will we organise ourselves? Who shall make the decisions that affect the very lives of all of you and your families? Who do we count among our number and who do we count as strangers to our law? What of the nobles and the commons? These are the fields to be fought over today."

I rolled my eyes. The man always was verbose.

"First, we begin with what our two candidates share," the seneschal continued, "No matter our political differences, we have far more in common."

Clermont launched into a statement agreed upon by both Julie and Velarana on the things neither wished to see change, taking about twenty minutes. Probably ten minutes longer than was absolutely necessary.

In no particular order... Both wanted to see the Assembly kept as the most powerful lawmaking body. There were no plans to change the status of the Army or its command, i.e. they were both content to let me get on with that job. They both agreed that judges had to be separate. Plans for a Cabinet appointed by the High Chancellor to take care of specific responsibilities, rather than the mishmash of semi-official military posts that had been taking care of them before.

The right of the Assembly to declare war, establish commerce, conclude peace, the right of the Government chosen by the High Chancellor to conduct diplomacy and war as best required. The creation of an Office of the Auditor-General to oversee the spending of public money. The enumeration of a declaration of rights, superior to all other law.

All very important, very thick subjects of varying levels of interest, made excruciatingly boring by Clermont. By the end of it, I swear I almost needed to shoot off a couple of rounds into the ceiling to get the crowd to stop talking quietly among themselves. I was more tempted to put them into our dear referee for making such a thing necessary. He was used to playing to a far higher brow crowd, and needed to move along with it.

I'm pretty sure Julie and Velarana agreed on all that simply to avoid boring the hell out of the electorate.

"The two candidates will make opening statements," Clermont boomed, with a wave of his hand, "The opening salvoes. As precedence dictates, the Marquise de la Fayette shall speak first, in accordance with both her rank and her position as our incumbent leader. Marquis?"

Julie gave Tam and I a suggestive wink. Clermont got a short bow of the head, before she turned towards the crowd.

"My first point has been made for me," she started, "Think about what Lord Clermont just said. I have the privilege of speaking first, before Madame Velarana, because I am a noble. Thanks to my marriage to General Hunt, I am better than her according to the law. But am I? This is what I rose up against. This is what all of you rose up against, when you joined with me in facing down those that would throw you to the dirt and put their boots on your necks."

Julie pointed to Tam and I. "Am I better than any of you because I love that man?" she said, "Would I be any less if I only loved that woman? The answer is no on both counts. Rank should be based on merit, not on who your father and mother are or who you are married to."

"If the Libertarians win this vote, if I am re-elected as High Chancellor, I will make this a reality," she said, "The people will rule through their own representatives, in their own name and in no one else's. Anyone who wants to join us and is willing to swear fealty will be welcomed, just as anyone who opposes us by violence shall receive it in kind. Those with noble titles will lose all privileges, except for the right to call themselves by those titles to honour their ancestors as equal citizens. Lives and property will be respected. People will be judged by their works, not their bloodlines."

A round of applause rocked the hall, causing me to shift against the wall. I hadn't expected it, but I should have. I had grown too used to seeing elves and had forgotten that they had been judged by their bloodlines for centuries, millennia even. And although the exact proportion was never really established, at least three out of every five of our citizens was an elf.

Besides that, the human merchants and skilled labourers had no shortage of anger about the fact that they were considered lesser than nobles whom mostly sat about on their asses. They made up the bulk of the remaining citizenry.

Armen gave me a grin as the cacophony continued. "We're going to win," he mouthed happily, unable to make himself heard. I simply shrugged and looked on.

Julie raised her hand, getting the silence she requested after a while.

"Our Marquis' homeland was a republic," she concluded, "A land where the _res_ _publica_ , the public business, was in the hands of everyone who lived in it and swore allegiance. A land for the people, not for nobles or for kings!"

Another, more restrained round of applause, but nonetheless enthusiastic. Julie was finished, and took her hands off the lectern and crossed them in front of her to show as much, shooting a look at Velarana. The Aequitarian pushed a blonde curl of her hair out of her face and looked straight ahead, contriving to look as unperturbed by the display of support as possible. She should have grinned, I thought. Grinning in the face of the enemy always is more unnerving to them than pretending to be unimpressed.

Clermont stood up again, managing to get the crowd to quiet down with greater success than before. "Madame Velarana, the floor is yours."

The Aequitarian leader smoothed down the front of her robes.

"Today I will ask you all to consider two questions on these issues, when deciding on which way to vote. The first is this; if rule by the people alone is so natural, as the Marquise believes, why is the world ruled by empresses, kings, archons and grand-dukes? Where are the lands of freedom? Not even Ferelden is truly ruled by its people, despite the bold proclamations of its Landsmeet."

Velarana turned her cool gaze on Julie. "The Lady Marquise is fond of pointing to the Marquis, and saying 'Look, here is a man from another world where these things are possible.' He is indeed from such a world. Yet we do not live in that world, we live here and now. We must ask ourselves why a nation like ours has never existed before."

"The answers to these questions represent a harsh reality, for I too believe in the things we have fought for together," she continued, "The truth is that people are not compelled to act for the good of the many rather than the good of the few. Naturally, this causes competition. Competition can be good, strengthening a realm. It can also be devastating, as we saw in the mother country. Even now, Orlesians kill Orlesians in a competition for the throne, benefiting no one but those who might sit on it."

"There is also the question of foreign opinion to consider," Velarana said, waving vaguely at the Fereldan section of the audience, "If we throw away absolutely everything that is familiar to nobles across Thedas, they will fear their own people doing the same to them, and they will try to destroy us before that can happen."

"If we want to save ourselves from faction-fighting and from invasion," Velarana said, "If we want peace, we must compromise. We must maintain the ceremonial position of the nobility, as we did in Free Orlais, and we must choose a noble to act as our face to the world, as we also did before our exile."

That sent me into a mild panic. The noble they had chosen for that last job had been me. The allegedly prophetic Fade dream I had came screaming to the front of my mind once more. "Your children shall wear crowns" sayeth the spirit. "Piss off" sayeth Sam the Tyrant.

"This does not mean throwing away anything we have fought for until now," Velarana said, soothing any possible objections, "Our laws will still be made by your representatives, and will still apply to all equally. But it will protect us from starting wars we should avoid. "

"The second question I ask you to consider is whether or not we can afford to go to war? Once we arrive, once we establish our city in Val Halla, we will be the smallest realm in the Free Marches. There will be towns under the sway of other realms with more people than we have. We will require time to build ourselves up, to populate our city. We cannot take the chance that the world will simply let us be if we do not act with caution. There is safety in the familiar, do not reject that. Our luck can run out, we must be prudent."

The crowd broke into murmurs, verbal consideration of what they had just heard.

"Nor is the external threat is not the only one that could cause war," Velarana interrupted, "In order to maintain the unity of our society, we must maintain the Orlesian character of our nation. No one should forget that it was in Orlais that our new liberties were born. Many of you have families and friends whom would now gladly join us, if only to avoid the brutality of civil war. I say that these willing men and women are also entitled to join our project, and should be given pride of place before those whom have no connection to our movement."

That really got my attention, my eyes narrowing as I registered what she was doing. Appealing to the Orlesian sense of superiority, or at least the sense of otherness from the rest of Thedas, that even elven peasants held to be absolute fact. Even Julie held to that, but she viewed it as hypocritical to deny a person the right to join that exclusive club. Velarana evidently did not.

"A vote for the Aequitarians is a vote for peace. Peace between nobles and commoners under the same laws. Peace through a common language and traditions. And peace with our new neighbours through tolerance for their own traditions. A peace that will bring prosperity to all. Thank you."

Velarana folded her hands over each other on the wood in front of her, as the crowd gave polite, considered applause. More than they would have if they were doing _only_ to be polite. The strategem at work was simply to undermine Julie's radicalism. It appeared to be going as planned, but how far? We wouldn't find out until election day. I rubbed my neck, worried about just that.

The thing about secret ballots; quiet people get as much of a voice as loud people.

For her part, Julie seemed cool as a cucumber. She regarded the crowd with a neutral, examining eye. It wasn't as if these arguments were unknown to her. I couldn't help but compare the language used by Velarana to Julie's own. It was simultaneously more cerebral and more vague. Julie used clear cut words that anyone could understand.

Clermont rose from his seat once more. "Now begins the rebuttal," he said, "The verbal fencing between the two candidates, to test the mettle of their ideas and oratory. As before, the Marquise de la Fayette has precedence."

Julie looked across at Velarana, with a fire in her eyes that betrayed her complete enjoyment of what was about to occur.

"Madame, did nobility help us before?" she asked, "Were our nobles not in fact killed? To make our reforms seem like the work of peasants alone, so our movement could be destroyed?"

The Aequitarian kept her eyes on the crowd.

"Lady Hunt, the nobles, whom died for our liberties, did in fact help," Velarana said, "Their support kept the Chantry at bay, something very important to we mages in particular. They also kept the armies of the Crown away too. Whoever assassinated the nobles, along with your own sister, used that method because they knew that they did not have the power to raise an army capable of defeating us. In fact, if they had tried, still more nobles would have joined our cause, bringing their vassals with them."

This implies that the Day of the Long Knives had not been the work of Celene, trying to preserve the unity of her empire through murder. It wasn't certain by any means, though there are arguments for the view too, strong ones. Such as the Empress not being so naïve to think that a couple of assassinations could crush a revolution.

At this point, Velarana shot Julie a surprisingly poisonous look, that sent my blood to boil when the accompanying words were spoken.

"We made the mistake of declaring war ourselves," she said, "Rather than consolidating our position against the undoubtedly inadequate forces that would have been sent against us, and simply acting to get the refugees out of Halamshiral and Jader. We provoked the deployment of far greater forces by going on the offensive. We must learn from that error, and with haste!"

A harsh criticism of what had happened to my mind. That we had any real choice in adopting an offensive strategy is simply incorrect. Eventually, overwhelming force would have been brought to bear on us by the Crown. We needed to take the fight out into the rest of the Empire to prevent it. It was a spectacular risk, but one we weren't entirely unprepared for and the alternative was certain defeat after a long grinding campaign amongst our own home territories. I'm sure we could have fled to the Grand-Collines, the hills of the De Villars being very defensible, but what sort of life would we have lead there?

"Our only mistake was marching on Lydes!" Julie said, "And the proof is that we won a great victory afterwards at Vindargent. It was numbers that beat us, not skill. Numbers would have come regardless. You have admitted that nobles leading us didn't prevent prevent others from sending assassins. Assassins roaming the land, killing who they want, is that peace?"

"Is it peace to declare war on the entire world?" Velarana shot back, "That is what you will accomplish by creating a place where nothing familiar exists. All you need do to know that is look at the Qun. The Qunari could have conquered the world by now, if they had only shaped their rule to suit those they intend to rule over. Instead, they united the world against them by opposing both Chantry and nobility, which is exactly what you intend. I respect the ideals, and perhaps one day the world will accept them, but not today."

"A point of order!" Clermont interrupted, "Both candidates will refrain from discussing matters of explicitly foreign reaction, which is the subject of the next debate."

"Then I shall ask this of the Marquise," Velarana said, holding up a pointed finger, "Does she believe that abolishing nobility will accomplish anything? Does she not realise that by doing so instead of blood, nobility will be decided by gold and silver? That all obligations of the great towards the many will be rendered obsolete?"

"The most important thing about gold and silver," Julie replied, "Is that it doesn't care who you are. Who your father is, whether you're an elf, human, dwarf or qunari... It can be earned by anyone, if they know what they're doing and are willing to work for it. You cannot say the same for nobility. Besides, in Orlais, you can buy titles if you are rich enough, so surely gold and silver already plays some role?

"All the more reason to maintain nobility," Velarana said, "What will happen when it is the rich who rule over the poor? Is that a recipe for peace either? Nobility the responsibility to defend the realm and its values. Nobles that fail to defend this... republic, can have their titles stripped from them by the Assembly. I pledge as much. We must encourage those of noble blood to see the wisdom of our policies, because through them, we can spread our ideals without the need for wars or bloodshed of any kind. Which in turn makes us safer."

"Or you'll weaken the basis of our revolution," Julie said, "By bowing to the demands of nobility, by refusing to accept anyone who would embrace this way of life. And the day will come when we find ourselves ruled by uncaring nobles once more."

"That is speculation," said Velarana, "Nothing more."

"And you would turn away good men and women for the simple fact they were not born in Orlais?" Julie continued, "Even if they adopt our values and language?"

"No, I would prefer those that already share those values and language," Velarana replied, "Of whom there are millions in Orlais, facing down the prospect of a civil war lasting Maker only knows how long."

"We do not have the luxury of being picky, Madame," Julie said, "The reliable way to grow our movement and increase our security is not through the nobles, but through commoners from all the cities of the Marchers as well as volunteers from Orlais. Let them bring their skills to profit from our liberty, and we will benefit in turn."

"And among them will be the assassins you have already mentioned," Velarana said, "Not to mention the spies of the nobles, whom seeing nothing but death at the hands of a revolutionary army, will try everything to undermine us. The Crows of Antiva, the Coterie of Kirkwall, the secret forces of Starkhaven, all of them will look upon such openness as an opportunity to stab us in the back. For coin, for their liege lords, or for both."

* * *

So that's how it went.

Julie arguing in favour of a liberal republic that accepted people from more or less all backgrounds as long as they accepted the central values of the realm. Velarana arguing that the nobility were more useful in place than abolished as a class, that Orlesians ought to form the core of the population, and always referring her points back to her central goal; peace, both civil and military.

The arguments weaved around each other more or less in a circular manner, until Clermont finally put an end to it and adjourned the debates until the next session.

The candidates and their entourages were allowed to leave first. Again in order of precedence. Julie and Armen led the rest of us out, the Grenadiers in tow, to the horses. The clouds were looking angry now, presaging a nasty downpour. Yet it didn't dampen Julie's mood.

"We won," Julie said, turning Revas about as I mounted Bellona, "I'm sure of it."

Truth be told, so was I. The great bulk of the Army had signed on to fight for their own freedoms, not the privileges of nobles. Velarana had more or less said that those privileges had to be tolerated for the sake of peace. I'm not sure many believed that.

But I was also sure that Velarana had nonetheless done the damage she aimed to in the first debate; associate Julie's program for our country with war.

"It was only the first round," Armen warned, "And I'm going to make sure that we did win. We need to pre-empt this war talk, I don't like what our opponent is laying out with it." He had come to much the same conclusion as I had.

"Good idea," Julie replied, "Bring De Villars." Referring to Blondie the Slightly Elder, rather than Mariette.

Armen flashed a grin and moved his horse off at a trot towards the docks. Ciara fell in behind him. The pair weaved between the checkpoint barriers and cannon with great ease, the Tranquil watching them with neutral expressions.

"How did you get the Baroness to agree to run for you?" Leha asked Julie, as we watched the two elves ride away. Louise de Villars had been more closely associated with the Lucrosians, like most of the nobles. But she would likely fall on her sword before supporting an elf mage without credentials for High Chancellor, never mind a non-Orlesian like Leha.

My lover smirked. "A new order of chevaliers," Julie replied, "Within the Army alone. With her as its Grand Master."

"Nice bribe," Leha snorted.

" _Noblesse sans noblesse,_ " Julie agreed, "The Army is not a democracy, nor can it be. What harm is there in titles there?"

I spread my hands, reins over my thumbs, impressed with her craftiness. "No harm at all," I said, "Obedience to officers is required either way. Fisher will probably want an order of nobility too."

" _Monsieur Pecheur peut avoir un ordre de noblesse, gratuit,_ " Julie said, imitating the sailor's gruff accent, " _Mais il n'y aura pas des femmes aux rangs!_ "

We all laughed, as it was a good impression, except for Claire. A guilty conscience was weighing on her. Julie noticed the lack of mirth, came alongside her. The younger sister seemed to wither under the stare of her sister. "You're quiet," she said, "Why?"

Claire fidgeted with the reins of her horse, then looked her sister dead in the eyes. "I told them," she said.

Julie shifted in the saddle, her lips tightened. She knew without further explanation as to exactly what had been said. "Ah. I see," she said.

She was still for just a moment before she turned to Tam and I. "Now you know I'm following in my step-father's footsteps."

I remained completely quiet, half out of approval for her instinct and half out of a lack of anything to say to that.

Tam had noted the wording Julie used, however. "Is that what you are doing?" she asked, "Just following your father? I would have thought it was personal. It would be for me, if the same thing had happened." I certainly believed her words. The image of her killing the man who was in charge of our imprisonment in Halamshiral came to my mind unbidden, the long upward stroke of her curved dagger in his chest in particular. And that was for a mere threat of a personal assault, not any overt act.

"It is personal," said Julie calmly, "But it was for my step-father too. Both of us came to the conclusion that the nobles could all go to the Void. He died trying to make them pay."

"You're not angry?" Claire asked.

"No," Julie said, "I didn't tell because I didn't want them to see the scene I do in their dreams. Or for them to hesitate to come to me to fulfil their desires."

"You should have told us," I said, getting a little angry at her dismissive tone, "We aren't so weak or stupid that we'd shun you for a thing like this."

"And you should know that," Tam added coolly.

Julie hung her head. "I do know it," she said, "But there's this fear inside me that I can't get rid of... it overwhelmed me whenever I thought of telling you. I'm sorry."

My anger fizzled away, not really being stoked up that high to begin with. "You don't need to apologise," I said, "It just screws with my head when you keep secrets. We always end up finding out too. Remember the firelances?"

Julie nodded, green eyes slightly tearful.

"We don't need protection from your past," Tam said, "You can expose yourself to us, and we'll protect you."

Julie nodded again, more rapidly this time.

"Well then, Boudica," I said, stretching my arms, "Let's get back to the castle. I'm starving."

Julie laughed, and brought Revas alongside Bellona. "So am I," she said, "And nothing makes a victory meal taste better than a few glasses of wine."

Leha grunted loudly, muttering about her own involuntary abstention over the sound Claire's soft sigh. I thought it was a decent idea to round out the day. So did Tam, showing it by moving Fritz ahead of the group. She had a Warden's appetite now, after all.

We raced back to Anora's Watch.

* * *

The next debate two days later, the one about our relations with the rest of the world, was far less formal.

That was a product of the weather more than anything else. The streets of Amaranthine were lashed with heavy rain, so heavy that it put our military drilling on hold and had us desperately patching the roofing of the warehouses where most of our own people were quartered. When everyone finally reconvened in the Chantry, the mood was not permissive towards lengthy opening speeches. The scent of damp clothes could be smelled through the incense, and with it, a certain sense of discontent.

The first debate had been far less conclusive than Julie had hoped, even if there was general agreement that she had won. There was no great love of nobility among the soldiers, and if anything they were simply tolerated by the merchants as a necessary evil. Naturally, Julie had come out on top because of that, but it was far from enough, especially with Velarana's explicit warnings of war.

People were undecided, and needed more to make up their minds. And they were getting impatient. Perhaps even violently, had it not been for the weather.

Clermont stood up, made the introduction in less than five minutes, and sat down again. It wasn't that he read the crowd, it's that he was utterly miserable in his black judicial cloak as he had made the mistake of wearing it on the way to the Chantry and it had soaked in the water more than most.

It was thought that Julie had a disadvantage on the topic of the day, so she ceded her right of precedence in order to let Velarana present a target for her to hit.

The Aequitarian had no problem with playing along.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I have but one objective where our relations with foreign powers is concerned," Velarana declared, "If you haven't heard what it is from the criers and pamphlets yet, not to mention the last debate, allow me to spell it out in a single word: Peace."

She stopped to let that settle, for a few heartbeats.

"Everyone in this room has a lost a home to war," she said, "The natives of Hearth have lost their ancestral birthplace to fire. Perhaps others have too by now, thanks to Celene or Gaspard's forces. The Templars, the lay sisters and our clerics have no idea if they have been condemned as heretics for staying with us in this time of trial. The Avvars follow us because we defeated them in battle, and will go boldly where they have never gone before to follow the Marquis. And we mages have lost a sanctuary the likes of which the South has not seen since before Andraste."

"It was war that took these things from us," Velarana said, "Regardless of whether or not it was an inevitable war, war is responsible for this loss that I know many of you feel deeply. We have made it this far, but so much could happen. As soon as our feet touch Marcher soil, we will be tested and examined by many powers that could do us harm. We must rise to these tests, but we must not be needlessly provocative."

Julie's eyes narrowed ever so slightly. No doubt she was restraining the impulse to scream "Our very existence is provocation!" or something along those lines. I was half tempted to interrupt myself, but I'm glad I didn't in light of where the Aequitarian was taking the conversation.

"My plans to keep the peace are threefold," Velarana said with a smile.

"The first is to square our new liberties with the common traditions of all the civilised nations of Thedas. The nobility should not lose their rank, merely their immunity to the law. The Templars, whom the Marquise placed under the Army, should have their independence returned so that mages are also subject to the law as equals. We should not declare war on any realm that does not do us harm. And most importantly, we must choose a noble as our symbolic sovereign and supreme commander, so that our unique liberty can be preserved and the threat it poses to the rest of the world reduced."

I detected the distinct knowledge of Earth's political systems peeked out of that last line. But what sort of sovereign did she have in mind? England's model? The French under Napoleon or the Orléanists? Or, most ominously, Prussia? I should have been thinking about who she might actually want on this throne she intended to raise, as Julie and Armen were at that very moment. My previous academic study of history threw me off that scent.

My internal musings ended when I saw the glow of approval in Grand-Cleric Brandon's eyes. The Templars coming back to her control was something she dearly desired, after all. She didn't pursue it out of respect for me, but it was well known that she held

"The second part is to encourage trade in every way we can," Velarana continued, "We have to create a space in which all real obstacles to commerce are eliminated, the elimination of which will be paid for by the gold of commerce itself and the sweat of our citizens' own exertions. We must have good roads, safe seas and streets, laws that enforce contracts and agreements, and an end to bribery and other forms of corruption that have sapped the strength of our mother country. By doing so, we make ourselves too valuable to foreigners for them to consider destroying us."

All of which sounded great, but who would pay for it? Velarana had the answer to that too, though it wouldn't be revealed until the final round of the three debates.

"The third and final way to guarantee the peace is through strength," Velarana said, "I'm sure the Marquise will be eager to paint me as weak on the defence of our rights and persons from foreign invasion. I want you to know that a vote for the Aequitarians is not a vote for subjugation by foreign powers. To maximise our strength, our army and navy must be given the highest priority. Every citizen must contribute towards it."

Here we go, I thought, the pre-emptive counterstroke to Julie's accusation of weakness.

"Wars are won not only with weapons, but with soldiers and gold," the Aequitarian stated, "Under my plan, every adult will be part of the National Guard, given a weapon to be kept at a local armoury of the Army. In times of war, all will be paid, but in times of peace, soldiers will be allowed to work and earn their own money for six days out of the week. The seventh day will be for training, both of body and mind, as well as necessary work to build up our new city. Meanwhile, our borders will be kept safe by Peacekeeper Brigades and the Navy, who will remain professional soldiers."

Having heard that logic before, I grimaced. Her plan was to partially demobilise two thirds of the Army. I had to give her credit, it was a bold move. Freed up lots of money for other things, not to mention skilled labour, while increasing the numbers on paper of our combatants to include every breathing adult. The problem is that she was essentially proposing conscription. _Lev_ _ée en masse_ , as we call it.

While the idea was familiar to everyone, peasants had to work the _corv_ _é_ _e_ in Orlais and were pressganged into war service all the time, she hadn't grasped the concept that a fully professional army is better than a conscript one. It has a greater sense of élan, better unit cohesion, it's more effective at using its weapons, and its discipline both on and off the battlefield are far better. Our Army had committed no major atrocities despite taking many enemy towns and villages in part because of the latter fact.

Velarana was gambling that our weapons and a professional core alone would be more than enough to defeat whatever opposition might arise against us. I figured she had good odds on being right about that when it came to the foreseeable threats on the horizon, but war doesn't only arise from the foreseeable things.

"Peace through strength, peace through prosperity, and peace through our common heritage," she concluded, "Thank you."

The applause that followed was very respectable, possibly as loud as the reception Julie's first speech got. Julie lowered her head, looking over some notes in front of her, politely conceding the floor to the audience.

Clermont got them quieted soon enough. "And thank you, Madame," he said to Velarana, "Marquise, the floor is yours."

Julie took a breath, steadying herself. "Peace is a dream," she began, "It's beautiful, it lets us all fulfil our wishes, no one gets hurt, everyone grows old gracefully and no one dies before their time. But like all dreams, it disappears when you wake up, when you get back to reality. And the reality will be that war is inevitable."

"Madame Velarana is very aware of this fact. Her aim is not to prevent war, her aim is to make it as small a war as possible. That's a good idea, but she seems to be counting on one thing; that the nobles of other cities and realms will believe us when we say we don't want to interfere in their fiefs. Our very existence is interference, an example to the world that cannot be ignored. The more prosperous and safe we make our city, the bigger a threat we make ourselves in the minds of our enemies. They cannot allow us to succeed."

Julie looked at Velarana. "With every success, we will bring war closer whether we like it or not."

"If you want to avoid a bigger war, we need to make ourselves look as big a threat as possible," she continued, "We must strike fear in the hearts of anyone who would oppose us. That starts by following our ideals with confidence, not shrinking from them in anxiety over what others think. Our nation will be _ours_ , no one else's. If we act any differently, then we'll be treated as if we can be bought or intimidated into giving our nation over to the highest bidder or the strongest enemy."

I recognised the philosophy of Sun Tzu and Machiavelli in Julie's logic immediately. If you are strong, appear weak to entice your enemy to attack unwisely. If you are weak, appear strong to dissuade your enemy to attack when it is in fact wise. Those who benefited from the old order will resist those trying to institute a new order fiercely. Velarana wasn't the natural inhabitant of our library, after all.

"As for the Templars, we can't allow an army we don't control to move freely among us," she continued, "Whether it's the Grey Wardens, the Templars, the new Order of Hospitallers, we have to be absolutely sure that any group of armed men and women inside our borders are loyal to us and no one else. Outsiders can use the threat of violence to influence us, but it would be far more easy for them to do it if we sacrifice the authority of our realm."

"We must insist on being treated as equals," Julie said, "The first step, as I have said, is standing firm on our principles. The second is to continue the tradition of excellence of our Army, and make sure the Navy establishes a similar tradition. Well paid professional soldiers, men and women whose sole job it is to protect us, are always better than part timers or mercenaries. When war is your profession, you learn its depths more than any temporary soldier could and certainly more than someone just looking for an easy fight so they can walk away with coin and loot."

"The third step to being treated as equals, and to peace if you desire it, is to give back what we are given. If our neighbours leave us be and remain trustworthy, we must do the same, though I doubt that our neighbours will behave like this. If our neighbours attempt to undermine our security, our trade or our nation, we repay them in the same coin and more. If our neighbours invade, their leaders forfeit their right to rule. We cannot be the weak person who is slapped and allows themselves to be slapped again."

A considerably more moderate position than waging revolutionary war across the Free Marches, however much Julie might have wanted to do just that, but still more radical than what Velarana was proposing. The implication that the Aequitarians would let some things slide was doubly effective. But, as a means of convincing people that she didn't want war, the speech fell flat for the most part.

"Put your mark next to the Libertarians," Julie said, "And stand up for your dignity and honour in the face of the world."

The crowd seemed to like the speech, shouts of support joining with the clapping, although it was probably equal to what Velarana had received for her speech. I began to think that our people were deeply unsure of how to go about the matter. I had also noticed that Julie had kept her cards close to her chest on the subject of money, whereas the Aequitarian had talked about trade.

The questions and answers didn't clarify much either. There were two strictly important parts, the rest was just sparring over the points raised above. The first, naturally, involved clerical opinion of our little project under Aequitarian rule.

"Madame, you wish to appease the Chantry by giving the Templars back their independence," said Julie, "But you yourself are a mage. While I have absolutely no problem with that, and I would gladly go to war to defend your right to be chosen as our leader, I must point out that the Chantry isn't going to be so accomodating. Especially with the Tevinter presence, however small, in our midst."

"Marquise, I am glad you raised that issue," Velarana replied politely, "You are quite correct in saying the Chantry will strongly disapprove. However, as you well know my lady, they have far bigger problems than we few hundred mages. The other Circles are close to revolt, and the Templars are on the brink of mutiny over the Divine's repeated refusals."

"So you believe an Exalted March will not be considered?" Julie asked.

"No, because I intend to take further measures to prevent that," Velarana said, "I will ally our nation with the Chantry, pledging our full military support in the event of a full or partial Templar mutiny, or if the Circles declare war by voting to secede. This will also protect us from the Qun, as we could call to all Andrastian nations for assistance as long as the alliance stands. I will also prevail upon Grand-Cleric Brandon to appoint a trustworthy templar to watch over me while in office, so that there is no danger of a magical tyranny."

And watch over her he would... But he would never be a threat to her. I'm getting ahead of myself.

"Madame, what happens if that templar kills you for some perceived slight against the Chantry?" Julie asked, "It would throw our nation into chaos."

"At which point you or the Marquis take power and restore order," Velarana replied, eyebrow cocked, "The gesture of goodwill in letting a templar supervise me is more than worth the risk, if it wins us the Divine's blessing."

The other significant topic of discussion was the other inhabitants of the region we intended to settle.

"Lady Marquise, I must demand that you tell us how you plan to win this inevitable war," Velarana drawled at length, her upper crust Circle accent emerging and showing that she was losing her patience, "Can we defeat the combined forces of Ostwick, Hercinia, Markham, and Wycome? To say nothing of Starkhaven, Antiva, Nevarra and the Felicisima Armada?"

"You are assuming that every single one of them will be united against us," Julie replied, "And even if they are, the chances of them being able to attack us together any time soon are slim. It would take at least until the autumn at least for them to accomplish such a thing, and every month that passes by will see us grow stronger. It's more likely we'll have until late spring of 9:41, in fact."

"And if they don't conform to your notions of organisation?" Velarana asked, "What happens if they decide to attack as soon as possible rather than waiting? They do have the advantage of numbers."

"If they move sooner, they won't be able to gather their numbers together," said Julie, "Which means we can beat them piece by piece."

"You seem very confident of that," Velarana said, "Yet I don't see any reason to be."

"The Free Marches are not Orlais, they are a collection of many city states with different cultures," Julie replied, "The armies of most of the cities are weak. They rely on nobles' bodyguards and mercenaries. The big exception is Starkhaven, with its royal legions, but Starkhaven is far away from where we intend to live. Antiva doesn't even have an army, and Nevarra is even further away. Very few of the cities have the capability of pressing peasants into service and won't have the weapons to equip such an army on hand either."

In a way, mercenaries are even less effective against our sort of army; peasants have the ideology of amateur warriors; get stuck in, kill the enemy, go home. Mercenaries are conditioned to try and get out of any fights alive regardless of whether or not the enemy dies. Professionals are far more versatile than either.

"Our army is already better equipped, better trained, more disciplined and lead by more experienced officers following better doctrines of war, and our troops are not merely fighting for pay but for the future of their children too. By the time our enemies gather, they'll have even more advantages and our Navy will be ready too."

"So why not declare war immediately?" Velarana asked, "You seem to be restraining yourself, considering you are so confident in our ability to win a war. Why not attack quickly?"

"We can beat their armies, but we can't take and hold their cities," Julie replied, "Our best chance at winning the war is destroying their armies and military leadership in the open and demanding concessions. Show them the cost of fighting us, and they'll find that it is too high a price."

"The problem, Lady Marquise," came the reply, "Is that they can afford to pay a much higher price than we can."

* * *

The second debate was generally considered to be Julie's loss. It wasn't an overwhelming victory for Velarana in the same way the first had been inconclusive. Velarana's education in a Circle worked against her to some extent, her ideas expressed in more flowery language even when she was restraining herself. Nor were people willing to overlook her support for the nobility so easily.

You may have noticed that both of the women who wanted to lead us had converged towards more moderate positions than they actually held personally.

Julie absolutely would have declared war on the nobility of the Free Marches if she believed it practically possible. She would have had no hesitations in saying so either, if it wouldn't have cost her the election. Not only for her own ideological satisfaction either, but we'll get to that.

Velarana on the other hand had absolutely no issue with monarchs and nobles, even those empowered above the people to rule. In fact, she saw inherent wisdom in such systems, even after reading the partial history of Earth. She was more interested in the longevity of the state rather than the absolute liberty of the people. We'll get to that too.

Both moved closer to what I thought of as the centre ground where the most votes could be found, towards a future where the people ruled their land in their own name but the country was at peace. That's the problem with democracy, the people often want what they can't practically have. The Libertarian and Aequitarian positions on the constitution and foreign relations reflected the closest two possible options, with the Lucrosians perfectly content to have either set of positions as long as the cash rolled in.

For one of the few times in her life, Julie was beginning to get worried.

We didn't go back to the keep this time, but instead Julie led us down the main avenue to the Crown and Lion tavern. In the rain.

Past the checkpoints, watchful soldiers and bowing Fereldan subjects. We even got an eyeful from the whores plying their trade from beneath the overhang of the nearby buildings, as the tavern's horse stands were on the Doxy Row side. I wasn't sure why we were there, but I had followed along without question. I thought it was part of some ploy of Julie's, perhaps to show she wasn't afraid to go have a drink and possibly be confronted with questions.

We dismounted, tied up our horses under the leather canvass awning, and entered the establishment, all seven of us. Julie first, Tam, Armen, Ciara, Claire, Leha and I.

The huge tavern stretched the entire width of the block, the ground floor dedicated to a bar and the upper three floors served as an inn. There were no less than five fireplaces, with varying degrees of fire burning inside them. It was empty, most people not willing to brave the rain in the middle of the day or too busy working. I had deliberately made sure the locals got some of the runabout jobs, another measure to keep the peace. Our footsteps echoed, making the few servers and barmen look up.

Julie grabbed a chair and sat at a table close to the door but just far enough away to not be overly bothered by the draft. We all followed suit, curious as to why we were there. There was no playful suggestion of getting food and drink this time.

"I lost that one," Julie admitted as soon as we were all settled.

"No shit," Leha said at once, "That bitch slid the accusation that you're a warmonger in like the harlequin would slip her blade in under Sam's ribs. Quietly and softly, _lovingly_ , so it doesn't seem like a fight at all."

I winced, suddenly feeling defensive about Mariette, who wasn't present to defend herself.

"Velarana is never one to shout and scream accusations," Armen half-whispered, mindful of the setting, "Not when she's in full control of herself."

"I don't suppose you know how to make her lose control?" Leha asked, "That might be useful."

"Not without making us look like we're at a disadvantage," the mage replied, "If we keep our cool and hold fast, we can pour cold water over her notions of peace with ease. I didn't see an absolute defeat for us in that Chantry today, I saw uncertainty in all of those watching. People genuinely don't know who is right about whether war will be necessary or not."

"Which is why I'm not trusting her word," Claire added, "I'm not risking the lives of my niece and nephew on the chance that Velarana is right. Promises won't keep the peace, and that's what she's really offering."

"It's an attractive offer," Ciara said.

"Yeah, I'm getting that feeling," I growled, shaking my head in disbelief, "People vote their hopes, not their fears."

Leha gave a quick flick of her head towards the bar, indicating that someone was coming. We all shut up at once, as a waitress came over with confidence. Clearly someone who had been doing her job for ten years or more, even though she was younger than Julie by a year or two by my guess. She took our order, a set of simple meals, and refused payment as she turned away to deliver the order to the cooks at the kitchen stoves tucked away in the far corner.

"So it'll come down to the last debate," I said, "Money. Do we have any idea what Velarana is going to say about that?"

I looked to Leha, as the person most interested in the topic. She shrugged.

"The Aequitarians haven't said much about it," she said, "Other than saying peace is the path to prosperity. Clearly the bitch hasn't seen our account books from the past year, I could show her just how profitable war is.."

" _Looting_ is profitable," Julie frowned, "But we can't exactly rely on it."

A huge proportion of our fortune having been derived from exactly that source, at least originally. The chevaliers sent to collect taxes, the small Templar treasury at the Wolf's Lair, the proceeds from the Sahrnia campaign in the Emprise, the small part of the Royal Treasury at Halamshiral we were able to cart off to Hearth... it had all been put to good use making even more coins, at least until our defeat. And then we managed to carry off the Ferelden paychests and capture the tax base of Amaranthine to boot.

"So is it another win for us?" I asked, "Or will Velarana pull something out of her hat?"

"I don't know what she could offer," Julie said, "It's not like she'll have many resources at her disposal if she does win. We've mostly been using our own personal funds to keep everyone who needs to be paid in coin."

Claire let out a shocked noise. "Do you think she'll try and take your money away?" she said.

"What? Claim it?" I asked, "Is that a possibility?"

"It is," said Leha, "But she'd be incredibly stupid to do it. I have a plan if she does try it."

Julie looked at her dwarven friend over her steepled hands. "Care to share?" she asked.

Leha chuckled to herself, very much pleased at the dastardly nature of the ploy she had in mind. "No, I think it's best if it's a surprise for everyone," she said, "I can't wait to see the look on her face."

Julie hissed out a breath of frustration. "It's going to be close," she said, "I can feel it. I can't believe I didn't feel it before."

"But we'll still win," I said.

"Can we seriously imagine High Chancellor Velarana of Halamshiral?" Armen snorted, "An elf mage treating for peace with the prejudiced nobility of the Free Marches? I'm an elf and a mage too, but even I'm not stupid enough to believe those _aristos_ would ever respect us if I was High Chancellor. Most commoners would have a problem with it too."

"You're also a little young for the job," Ciara added, giving him a small push, "Trust me, I know."

"I defer to the wisdom of the former Vice-Chancellor," Armen said, before kissing her on the cheek.

I tuned out there, as our drinks were being delivered to the table. What sort of leader would Velarana be if she did win? It was a complete mystery, despite weeks of campaigning. Plenty of feel-good, sounds-good words, but no solid positions on anything except building towards peace, which was a wildly popular idea. She was a great politician, I have to give her that.

"Julie, you should relax tomorrow," Armen continued, catching my attention once more, "You run yourself into the ground yesterday, and I'm not sure it helped. I think Velarana was counting on it." She had been very busy the day before, which wasn't the wisest move for someone with a hangover. We had hit the drinks pretty hard after her victory in the first debate.

Julie flexed her hand open and closed in a motion of apathy. "Agreed," she said, "I don't want to look like I'm hiding, so we'll have to treat it like an ordinary day."

"A trip to the forges then?" I asked, "Followed by... well." The implication being obvious.

"Not for you," Julie smirked, "Not safe."

Tam cleared her throat to get our attention. "I do not mind," she said to Julie, before glancing at me. She had also acquired Grey Warden woes about fertility... Worries about which affected her acutely. The coming nuptials to a certain Tevinter lady had exacerbated matters greatly. My breath caught in my throat, not because I wasn't willing but because I was afraid of her disappointment if it didn't work out.

"Oh Tam," Julie said warmly, "There will be plenty of time for _that_." Forgetting that Tam was older than I was, perhaps, but it was exactly what needed to be said.

But you could always count on someone else to say exactly what shouldn't have been said.

"Children are expensive," Leha grumbled, "And I don't see you earning any coins, sex-addled Qunari."

The Qunari in question shot a dark glare at Leha, the lecherous dwarf. Armen's grin, which had been disappearing during the election campaign, sprung forth immediately as I looked to him for some sort of moral support as the only other male at the table. So much for fraternity of men.

* * *

Two days later, and we were back in the incense-filled Chantry hall,

"My fellow citizens, our resources are limited only by our willingness to work," said Julie, beginning the final debate, "We have a full treasury. Gaspard was thankfully unaware of just how much gold and silver we had. This will buy us the time we need to make ourselves at home."

There were murmurs in the Chantry that were caught and projected by the stone of the walls, half-mumbled wonderings about just how much money we did have. A very significant amount, truth be told.

"We have some of the most skilled artisans in Thedas. Blacksmiths and metalworkers who might just be the best in the world. Shipwrights from Jader. Merchants from Hearth. Distillers and seamstresses, coopers and glaziers, dyers and weavers, farmers and herders."

"Most of our people can read and those that can't are already in the process of learning. We have Chantry and Circle scholars, we have graduates of the University of Orlais, we have those that have read the Terran Library, and all our citizens with their individual life experiences."

"The Libertarian plan for our prosperity is simple," Julie declared, "Let these people do their jobs without interference and keep taxes as low as they can be!"

The crowd cheered raucously, the clapping and shouting accompanied by whistles. I think Julie stacked the crowd on that occasion, or the draw had favoured common soldiers by chance.

Taxes always were spectacularly unpopular among the peasantry for the simple fact that they rarely ever gave return benefit, and often stripped people of protection from starvation or exposure. Merchants disliked them too, because commercial types always want to maximise profit, although most weren't so stupid as to believe in not paying anything. It was only the nobles that believed that, their contribution came in military forces or emergency supply levies instead. Of course, with democracy comes the increased likelihood that taxes can be spent for the majority's benefit. A fact not lost on Velarana...

"Those from the Dales can remember the chevaliers riding through the countryside, demanding payment or death!" Julie continued, gaining in confidence, "I myself was arrested for refusing to accept the robbery of my hard earned coin, imprisoned until Sam and Tam rescued me from my fate. And what did the dukes and counts spend it on? Fancy clothes and huge _chateaux_! Emerald encrusted slippers! No more of that wasting our money, I say!"

Another cheer, the antipathy of the crowd towards that sort of behaviour made absolutely clear. Armen gave me a nudge, as if to say 'Listen to that roar'. I frowned. It was a bit of populist theatre to make such a point; it's not like we were going to piss our gold and silver away on frivolous bullshit to begin with.

Hell, the only reason Julie even had a dress or shoes worthy of an Orlesian Marquise was because she had needed one for her position. Reasons of state. Ciara's revealing green dress had been acquired for exactly the same reason.

"I will not lie," Julie said, once the throng had quieted, "Taxes will still need to be paid. Work to create a place we can all live in safely and healthily will still need to be done. But I pledge that not a single copper more than is necessary will be taken out of your purses if I become High Chancellor. I pledge a plot of land to every family, either a small one in the city or a large one for farming in the hinterlands of Valhalla. I pledge that every merchant or artisan business that existed in Hearth will also have land equal to or greater than they possessed before our exile. And I pledge to connect all of our people with good roads and free access to ports, so that we can get the fruit of your hard work to market."

"If we follow this path, we will create great things that the world will want to buy," Julie smiled, "You've already seen our new weapons, and I'm sure many of you miss some of the things we were making before. These are only the beginning."

"A vote for me as Libertarian candidate for High Chancellor is a vote for both prosperity and security. Free trade for a free people. Thank you."

There was loud applause, this time unaccompanied by verbal or whistling noise. Julie stepped away from the lectern and bowed to them respectfully, as a servant might do towards her master, increasing the length of the applause. A nice touch.

Velarana did not wait for Clermont to make the formal handover of the baton, speaking as soon as she knew she would be heard.

"I must thank the Marquise for pointing out the many strengths we possess," the Aequitarian said, "As well as the hardships most of you have been through. Both before and after the … revolution began."

That sure as shit got the attention of the crowd. "Revolution" was a word only the Libertarians used in any sort of positive light.

"Life for most have you has been unspeakably cruel," Velarana continued, "Something we don't appreciate in the Circle of Magi until we get out into the world. The depredations are numerous. I'm sure most of you have gone hungry before. I'm sure most of you have seen mothers, sisters or wives die in childbirth. You have been unable to get warm in winter at some point in your lives. You have seen children crippled or die from terrible diseases, diseases that could have been treated. You've lived in places where thugs and bullies have dominated, and not just ones with noble blood in their veins. For almost all your lives, you've lived under a regime that cared nothing for you. Not even our own nobles were seen as anything other than fodder for the Game."

She paused. If you dropped a pin on the ground, it would have sounded like the bells ringing, it was that quiet. Everyone was wondering just where in the hell she was going with this. Me included.

"The reason why we don't appreciate these things in the Circle is simple," she said, "We don't experience them. In the Circle, we do not go hungry. In the event of pregnancy, we are cared for until we give birth and afterwards, even if our children are destined to be taken from us. Our hearths are always warm with fires. As healers live with us, mages do not die of disease, as children or adults. We are sheltered from criminals looking to rob or rape us, for the most part. We are protected."

"When I decided to put my name forward to be your High Chancellor, I had no idea what I would propose to create prosperity at first. In the course of finding out how things worked for all of you before, I discovered this difference of experience. I was protected and you were not. And I knew that had to change."

" _My_ pledges are to extend the same protections that I have had all my life to you. I will make magical healing and the techniques of the Marquis' homeland available to everyone. I will not only give plots of land to every family, but I will have homes built on that land from our own treasury. I will establish a grain dole that all citizens may draw from. I will create a force of gendarmes to patrol our streets and investigate crimes. I will make the streets of our city beautiful, for all the world to see."

"In short, I will care about and for every single one of our citizens, and I will put the money of the realm behind my words."

Again, total silence from the crowd as Velarana paused to drink some water. I had the bad feeling that the lack of cheering was bad news for us. That the audience was enthralled.

"I'm sure the Marquise will ask what this has to do with our prosperity," she resumed, "All of this sounds like it is spending money, not making money, correct? Think about it like this; is a hungry person going to achieve the best that they can? Or are they going to be too worried about food? Is a family without a good home going to be able to work and raise their children to the best of their ability? Can work be valued as highly as it should be if some bandit can come along and rob a worker of their hard earned silver without consequence? Can our nation be respected by foreigners if all visitors see are factories and slums?"

"Everything I propose increases our prosperity by allowing our people to be at their best; healthy, well fed, safe and kept out of squalor. People at their best create great things, and strive to improve themselves. That allows them the space and energy to build their wealth, where otherwise they would be stuck simply trying to survive."

"Of course, paying for these things means paying taxes. I know you do not like paying them, and until I left the tower at Halamshiral, I had never paid them myself. But I make two promises. Every tax will be voted on separately, so that you may inform your representatives of your preferences. Citizens who earn more will pay more tax so that those who earn less can survive and thrive. The Marquise and Madame Cadas, both already very rich women who are sure to make large amounts of gold, will naturally pay more of their income than the ordinary soldier or worker."

I could practically feel the heat build in Leha as she heard that, without any need to look at the dwarf. She was pretty damn close to going high explosive, if Ciara's muffled giggles were any evidence. Julie on the other hand seemed as cool as ice, avoiding the image of contempt too, simply listening attentively.

As for myself, I couldn't believe what I was hearing. It was the most ambitious idea of government ever seen on Thedas. The Europeans would have been impressed. I wasn't, however. I saw the looming war coming, just as Julie did. We needed to look to that first, before even considering half the proposals Velarana put up, I said to myself.

"A vote for the Aequitarians is not only a vote for peace, but a vote to make our city worth living in as quickly as possible. Thank..."

She stopped speaking, her voice drowned out by something a great deal louder. The interruption was the creaking sound of the main doors opening, and the strong wind coming off the sea howling in between the giant slabs of wood and metal. The entire occupancy of the Chantry turned their heads to see what was happening; the main doors had been ordered shut until the end except in an emergency.

Mariette de Villars stepped in, only recognisable to me from the colour of her blonde hair and effortless gait, as the top of her head was the only thing I could see past the crowd. She soon skirted them, red-faced and flustered about something. She came along the wall directly, locking eyes with me as she moved up, the crowd murmuring again. She stopped in front of me and curled her finger for me to lower my head. I complied, and she whispered the news in my ear over the course of a few minutes

The feeling of elation rose over me, buoying me up. The time had come at last.

I straightened up, and thanked Mariette, motioning for her to follow me. The murmurs of the crowd died down as I proceeded directly to the middle of the Chanter's rostra, between Julie and Velarana.

"Lord Clermont, Grand-Cleric Brandon" I said to the two sitting at the table behind, "With your permission..."

"Certainly, Marquis," Brandon said, before Clermont could say anything. I thanked her went to the front of the rostra, in front of both candidates.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we must cut this debate short," I said, "You will remain here until both candidates and their escorts leave, and you will be taken back to your quarters by our troops."

The murmurs burst out again, somewhat indignant that they would be missing the back and forth that should have followed the statements of the candidates. I held my hand up for quiet, and got it. Mostly.

"Sails have been spotted on the horizon," I announced at the top of my voice, "The Tevinters are here."

* * *

 _AUTHOR'S NOTE: Apologies to all for the delay in releasing this, it was another nightmare chapter to write and one that will also probably require a good deal more editing. Also apologies in that it turned into an episode of the West Wing, for the most part, which may not be to the taste of some._

 _Tevinter and the moment of truth in the elections next time, as well as the arrival of two more familiar faces from the games that we all know and love._

 _In other news... The story has now broken 450 favourites, another milestone. Again, thanks to all of you for your support._

 _For fans of Fallout, I also published a story concept called Tyrant that you might be interested in, basically the prologue of a story I'd like to write but seriously don't have the time for. It's set post-Fallout 4, and as the title suggests, all is not well._

 _I'll be working on some heraldry for the characters to put up on my DeviantArt page, under GreaterGoodIreland there as here. More battle maps may be forthcoming too, suggestions for which battles you'd like to see mapped out would be good._

 _Lastly, I'm thinking about getting images of the various characters of Outlander commissioned. Obviously Sam, Julie and Tam first, but maybe more later. I'd like to ask if anyone would be willing to contribute modestly towards that, or if you have suggestions as to what artists would have a style that would go with the overall feel of this story. I've seen a couple of artists that might be worth a look, PM me or drop it in a review if you know anyone you think I should take a look at hiring for this._

 _ **Katkiller-V:** Already answered you by PM, but I'll post my initial reply here for the record._

 _Time to do a full accounting of the numbers... if only because they've only been vaguely kept in my head and I might as well._

 _The Free Army had about thirty thousand troops on leaving Orlais. Ten thousand 'Peacekeepers' of the original force, and twenty thousand volunteers and levies that had returned from Lydes to Hearth via Vindargent. The rest of the army assembled for the offensive against Lydes fled to the safety of Halamshiral's walls. The exiled army was organised into 32 regiments, going up to 33 with the addition of the Avvars and to 35 now at Amaranthine, when two more were created to form the male-only Marine regiments under Fisher._

 _In addition to that, the entire population of Hearth/L'Ambassade came too. Sam estimated this to be about 5,000, excluding the soldiers. Many of them not originally from there, and many of the twenty thousand volunteers are former workers and craftsmen too. So he thought there were about thirty five thousand, give or take a few hundred. You can see why Leha was very worried about how to feed that many for long in winter._

 _The entire Avvar populace after Honnleath was about 2,000, most of whom are capable of fighting to some degree, pushing the number up to 37,000~. Two to three hundred more mages were picked up at Kinloch._

 _Since leaving Orlais, 1,538 soldiers are KIA. 189 in the Deep Roads, 146 at Redcliffe (almost entirely Avvars), and 1203 at the Hafter. None at Honnleath, due to Velarana slaying their shaman leader and causing the Avvars to surrender. Significantly more have been injured, five thousand odd at the Hafter alone, but the huge numbers of mages in the Army and the introduction of Earth-origin basic physiological and medical knowledge means that almost all of those people have been returned or will return to full capacity. It only takes a mage moments to stabilise a patient with serious injuries, that much is clear from the canon. The scene where you meet Mother Gisele in Inquisition springs to mind._

 _TLDR: The Army still has about 30,000, even after losses and incapacitations, and more than five thousand civilians in tow._

 _As for the numbers in the Free Marches, they aren't the only factor. You have to remember the force multipliers of firearms, field artillery, and the discipline and élan of professional soldiery. Hell, even the pike/crossbow tercios are a decided advantage over most Thedosian armies. The likelihood of Ostwick being able to cause thousands of casualties like Alistair accomplished is minimal. For one, Ostwick wouldn't let several hundred mages loose, for another, Alistair had far more than ten thousand._

 _ **5 Coloured Walker:** Indeed the Veil is quite weak on the coast due to the fights that happened there during the Qunari Wars, but it's not actively breached and can still be reinforced. It's not like that place in Tevinter, Marnus Pell I think it is, that is actively ruptured, nor is it like the rifts created by Corypheus later._

 _As for Venice, Val Royeaux is more like it than Wycome is as far as I can tell._

 _ **Dekuton:** She didn't think she would have to. Recall that she almost single handedly improved the lot of tens of thousands of people in the Hearthlands for a while there. The black mark against her is the defeat, but it was generally accepted that the Hearthlands would have been attacked eventually anyway, and likely in the same manner, so the importance of that isn't as high as other factors. As I think I've implied pretty heavily here, Julie wasn't blamed for the exile, quite the contrary, it was seen as the best possible outcome of a whole pile of shitty ones._

 _ **Halo is bad ass:** Nope, no Vikings unfortunately._

 _Tempted to write a side story like that though. Viking Outlanders. Another project I don't have time for haha_

 _ **Makurayami:** Indeed it is where the kossith come in. As for what role they'll play, you will have to find out. And yes, the Dalish are going to be relevant. One Dalish in particular._

 _ **Tmroc725:** Yeah, Cieran in Another Realm definitely has a rougher group... _

_I won't rule out Soprano having her day. Because I love her character, as you can probably tell. But I'd have to think hard about how to go about it tastefully, if doing such a thing can be._

 _It's the Waking Sea. Of course they'll run into Isabela._

 _ **Thepkrmgc:** Halamshiral's story will intertwine with this again._

 _The Lady of the Sky is like Flemeth? That's a pretty good guess. Close to the mark._

 _ **Xolsis:** Yeah... please review on a laptop in future hahaha_

 _I'm always perturbed to hear people don't like Julie. I like Julie. She isn't generally aggressive or insulting to anyone except when she receives that behaviour first. She reacts to contempt badly, like many people do. This chapter dealt a little more with her motivations, it isn't just a matter of her wanting personal power for its own sake. Although admittedly, I can see how you might have thought that up until now. I wish I had seen this review before writing those parts, so I could have added more. The notifications are acting up again._

 _Cole will show up. He makes the entirety of Inquisition more interesting by being able to get under people's armour so easily. I can see the use of that sort of plot mcguffin here haha_

 _ **Francisco914:** Yes, it is possible for another Outlander to appear, and it's already been more or less stated that Sam's niece Samantha will be joining him in Thedas at some point in the future._

 _I think dumping a scientist into the story might be a little too... Deus ex machina. Far too convenient without the plot backing to cover it._

 _ **Guest:** Muchos gracias! I hope Google is still translating everything!_

 _ **Natzi Sumbitch:** I've had the idea for Val Halla/Valhalla in my head for three years now. You have no idea how good it is to finally put it in the story haha_

 _ **Sammyboy47:** The bureaucracy from Hearth is with them, for the most part. Clermont and the Baron's former staff. On top of that, they have the Circle mages, all of whom are literate and educated, and the bulk of the population are gaining in their education too. _

_As for the rest of your insights, I'm afraid I can't possibly comment without spoiling, save for saying your perspective is pretty close to my own on all matters._

 _ **Zx:** Thanks! More canon characters very much will be involved._

 _ **Englishpleb:** First of all, great nickname haha_

 _Secondly, yeah, industrialised warfare could indeed tear the Veil. Warfare on a similar scale to that has already happened and already torn the Veil in Tevinter, although blood magic had a lot to do with that if memory serves. There's going to have to be a lot of care taken about that, but the mages with the Army are well aware of that sort of problem._


	53. Chapter 53: Here Come The Brides

**Chapter Fifty-Three: Here Come the Brides**

Mariette led the way with Julie and Velarana to the port, as we mere mortals followed behind in. The wind more or less stopped any chance of speaking, as it gusted about and crept under our furs,

Word was spreading through the streets, and there was a sense of anticipation in the air as people gathered in doorways and beside street-level. Anticipation of what exactly, was the question on everyone's mind. Tevinter was very far from Ferelden, and the only interaction with the Tevene people that Fereldans had was in the warnings and denunciations of the White Chantry against the Black.

We made straight for the eastern harbour tower; the northernmost point of the city that doubled as a lighthouse at night. It was a shorter tower than the others, and climbing it was no great difficulty. We crowded at the top as confused lookouts dodged us with fuelpots in their arms, and we looked out at the sea. It was remarkably flat considering the winds, and between the the patchy cloud cover shone great yellow beams down into the dark blue-green water.

Sure enough, I could see two or three dozen groups of sails in the distance, in between the dark form of Alamar and the brighter Brandel's Reach island chain. The ships were closer than the horizon and were moving quickly in from the north east, the first of them making full use of the powerful winds to speed forwards. I cursed loudly, trying to squint to see them better and regretting verbally that I hadn't brought any binoculars.

Which of course sent Mariette into a haughty chuckle, as she pulled a pair from under her own fur cloak. As the group looked on at us with suspect interest, I took the things and brought them up to my eyes. I inspected each of the sails in turn, and the sight that greeted me was not one I had expected.

"Thirty or so rowed galleys," I thought aloud, seeing the water churn to either side of those ships, "And three frigates?"

"Not the full fleet," Velarana concluded, "I thought as much, they are half a month early."

"It will probably take the next two weeks for the rest of the ships to arrive," Julie agreed, "It's not like anyone has a transport fleet to spare, that we know of."

"There isn't a single transport ship in that entire flotilla, or I'll eat my hat," I said, "Those frigates in front looks to be fleeing from the Tevinter group."

"What would you do if you saw magisters coming at you unexpectedly, ships or no ships," Armen said, "Not like you can turn and run any way you like when you're sailing. The winds more or less force you one way or the other, if my reading about it is correct."

"They'll be expecting to get shelter here," I said, "Unless those are Orlesian ships, or Qunari ones, we'll be happy to oblige."

"Those are definitely not Qunari," said Armen, "Wrong configuration and no Qunari banners. There are great books on both topics in the library at Anora's Watch, incidentally. _Ships of the Waking Sea_ and _Heraldry of the Thedosian Realms._ "

I narrowed my eyes at him, not believing he could tell at the distance in question, his night time reading topics notwithstanding. Which probably made it look like I was simply closing them given I had to keep them mostly shut already, to avoid watering them in the razor sharp gusts.

"Elf eyes," Ciara said from beside the mage, catching my disbelief, "We can see a little further." Elves are more likely to be far-sighted with good visual acuity, but not as much as popular mythology would have you believe.

"Ah, that," I said, not thinking that further comment was necessary or wise, "Well, they'll be in harbour in less than half an hour if I'm any judge."

"We must give them a warm reception," Velarana said. Julie hummed her accord with that, not turning away from the sea below.

"Do not say such a thing," Tam smirked, "You'll give him the wrong idea." The idiom having a somewhat ironic meaning where I am from, more so than on Thedas. Firearms being the standard idea.

"I don't care just as long as I get out of this fucking Stone-cursed wind!" Leha declared, speeding past us to be the first down the stairs. We all followed her, ourselves hoping the quays would be a little more sheltered.

"I wonder what she'll look like," Mariette said, rubbing her hands together beside me as we filed back through the doorway.

"Who?" I asked.

"Your bride?" she said, bringing her fur-lined cloaked up over her mouth and nose. Tam and Julie both turned their heads in front of us, the spiral staircase of the tower allowing them to do that without stopping. I had to choose my next words carefully, I knew. Men, take notes. I passed the buck with expert skill.

"I'm not even sure I'll get to see her before the ceremony," I said, with a shrug, "I forget that only Ciara and I saw her portrait."

Mariette looked at me blankly with her lupine blue eyes, not believing my charade for a second. Tam probably would have been able to see through it too, if she hadn't been half-distracted by the effort it took to not fall down the stairs. Everyone else seemed to believe me too, but that wasn't the point. The person I was counting on to cut in did so as expected.

"She's pretty," Ciara confirmed, "Wavy black hair and bright brown eyes."

There was an awkward moment as the people present considered that. I realised they were all actually worried about what might happen if I actually liked my betrothed. Even Velarana seemed to pause, as such a scenario would likely screw with her political ambitions. In her mind anyway, how exactly it would wasn't something I could figure out.

"Wavy black hair and brown eyes," Mariette said flatly, "Sounds like a bear."

Julie erupted with a laugh from below, the noise echoing in the tower. It was palpable relief to her that the opposite problem might occur, that Aurelia might in fact be terribly ugly due to the passage of time or the burdens of war. I grit my teeth, praying to the Maker that it wasn't so. Otherwise, I'd be relegated to the role of stud animal for the next decade at least, with as much agency in my procreation as a particularly fast stallion.

Not quite the definition of stud I was hoping to see applied to me.

* * *

The harbour was less windy, by just enough to make a difference.

The Libertarian and Aequitarian delegations joined the High Command and a great number of ordinary citizens on the quayside, all of us looking like fully bipedal bears ourselves in our furs, all come to see the action. Velarana's group went off to watch from elsewhere. The debate had just ended and there wasn't going to be much time for strategising the final push. Fisher and his captains were too busy organising the defence of the harbour. The Navy had insisted on that responsibility, so Julie gave them it.

This left me in the company of my companions and the generals. Mike even had my light blue UN banner, which flapped loudly from its staff in her arms.

Ships slid into the harbour proper under the watchful gaze of Fisher's batteries of cannon, the gleaming silverite glinting in the winter sun. The clouds parted like _le Cr_ _é_ _ateur_ himself had commanded them to. A suitable thing for the circumstances. We watched as the ships slid into the shelter of the bay.

"General," Soprano said in greeting as we came up alongside the waiting officers, "The Major found you, I see."

"She did," I said, "Cut the debate short too."

"Fisher and I thought this was more important," she replied, "Can't have the magisters running around unchecked looking for you, can we?"

"Certainly not," Julie smiled, "The Fereldans might lose their nerve." Or, to be more accurate, lose their shit entirely. A reaction ranging from cowering in their homes to rioting in the streets, neither of which was conducive to the peace I wanted to keep. "Peacekeeper" and all that.

"Those aren't Tevinters," Armen insisted, pointing at the three nearest ships, "Care to place a wager?"

"I'll take that action," Miked boomed, her stature failing to measure up to her volume as usual.

"That's a really bad bet," McNulty said, shaking his head.

"Agreed," Louise de Villars added, "I suspect that the more interesting object of a wager would be if they are not Tevinter, then who are they? Those vessels do not look like they possess enough space for very many people, after all."

"Pilots?" Mike ventured, "The Tevinters haven't been down this far by sea in a very long time, they'd need guides."

The elder of the de Villars cousins shook her helmeted head, the skull shaped faceguard no doubt covering a frown. "They're pirates," she said, "Or smugglers."

"Or both," Mariette agreed.

As expected, the first to arrive were the unidentified frigates. Well, they were 'two-masted brigantines' to be precise, which apparently isn't the same thing as a frigate, according to Fisher and other nautical types. They're lighter and faster by a knot or two, letting them get up rivers and through shallows that other ships can't, as well as simply outpacing. All of which is a clue about just what sort of job they usually did, as opposed to escorting refugees across the sea.

They rolled up their sails upon coming close to the shore and sent out lines to the waiting harbourmen, who reeled the ships in with capstans posted directly into the stone quay. Around they turned the giant pivot, the thick ropes wrapping around the iron capstan. I saw that those on the ships were doing the same thing with a capstan on their own decks.

All three ships were parked behind our own galleons in no time, dwarfed in size. I saw that they all had ballistas on their decks, two at the bow and two on the stern, although these seemed to be loaded with hooks rather than Antivan fire.

The middle ship, the one directly in front of us, was the _Sirens' Revenge._ The name was written in a flowing script I couldn't read easily, requiring me to look at it for a moment. I was caught entirely off guard when a gangplank smacked down onto the quay further down.

Off of it stepped two women.

The first was a stereotypical pirate. She wore a red bandana over flowing, straight black hair, framing electric blue eyes. Well, one of the eyes was blue, the other was covered by an black eye patch embroidered with silver. She wore knee high boots in rich red leather, fennec fur around her shoulders, dark green breeches and a white blouse that looked like it would melt in the rain. The only unpirate-like things I noticed about her were the thin rapier by her side, a precise weapon not typically associated with pirates, and the way she held herself disciplined and bolt straight, which was something you'd associate with people capable of using rapiers effectively.

The second was the most ridiculous caricature of a naval officer or admiral I'd ever seen in my life. She had a heavy blue coat with gold braid on the shoulders, giant silver buttons that were undone to reveal a generously proportioned mocha bosom, knee-high boots just like the other one's set, breeches slit up the thighs to reveal yet more mocha skin, and a black tricorne hat over flowing dark brown with a black feather sticking out of the back of it. She had multiple piercings on her ears and one on her lower lip. She was armed with not one, but two short cutlasses. The curved blades certainly suited her own curves, or so said the other organ with which we men think. The woman's eyes were a bright brown... and they reminded me of Aurelia.

For a brief momentary second of panic, I thought she _was_ Aurelia, but it passed as I saw no sign of a staff or Tevinter coats of arms. Plus there was no way that bust could have been left out of the portrait. Given Julie's own features, I became absolutely sure that this person was a Rivaini.

Firelances were cocked and aimed at the pair, as recognition of their career choice spread through the ranks. Didn't see too many of the men doing the aiming though. Again, different organs doing the thinking there.

"I thought Fisher said that women were bad luck on ships," Soprano said out of the side of her mouth, "I'll have his hide for the insult, while they stand witness."

"Pirates are a law unto themselves," I offered back with a whisper, "Please don't skin him, it would look bad."

The General offered me a smile that made no promises. Julie nudged me with her elbow gently. She wanted me to take the lead, probably because the newcomers were beginning to put their fingers around the hilts of their weapons. Some of their crew, an interesting mix of men and women from seemingly everywhere and every race, were too. The attention they were getting wasn't being appreciated.

"Ladies, welcome to Amaranthine," I said, gesturing for the soldiers nearby to lower their weapons, "I can honestly say that you weren't who we were expecting."

The unusual pair relaxed as soon as the weapons were shouldered, and finally looked directly at me. With appraising looks, no less. I probably blushed, but I choose not to remember such things.

"I can honestly say I didn't think we'd be here either," said the 'admiral' with a sigh, "But when someone waves gold in your face for an easy job, it's just rude to turn it down." Her accent was a curious one, with hints of influence from everything but reminding me most of a High Fereldan accent.

"Though as jobs go, this is unusual," the pirate added, "Even for us." That was most definitely a Fereldan accent, I thought.

The 'admiral' nodded.

"I don't suppose that has anything to do with the fleet that is right behind you?" Tam asked.

The eyes of the 'admiral' discovered Tam, and seemed to drink in the sight of her for a while as they scanned every inch of her body. Far more appraisingly than when she had looked at me. Tam, being the stoic she was, had chosen to wear far less than the rest of us. The woman continued looking until the pirate gave her a slap on the arm, grinning ear to ear as she did so. Something familiar about her struck me then.

The 'admiral' cleared her throat, and looked Tam in the eyes again.

"I'm sorry, what was the question?" she said, "You were distracting me."

Tam's silver-gold eyebrow cocked so high so quickly, it was in danger of flying off her head.

"The Tevinters, behind you?" she asked, gesturing vaguely off towards the ocean, "You were fleeing from them?"

The 'admiral' and the pirate exchanged glances of confusion.

"Eh, no, not exactly," the pirate said, "We were hired by them. To help you, in fact. We just figured that with so many ships sailing to do the same thing, we'd get here first and lay claim to the best food at the Crown and Lion before there is none left." The tavern was one of the few places we hadn't quartered troops in, because doing so would have disrupted commerce, so they were in luck there.

"Not to mention the best whiskey," the 'admiral' interrupted, "So many ships are coming, the place is going to be drunk dry. And I don't do dry."

The pirate snorted, again playfully hitting the 'admiral' on the shoulder, getting a smile over the shoulder in return. I would have said that they needed to get a room, but evidently that was their plan.

"Ah, so Tiberius hired you," I said, "And the fleet is on the way."

"Practically every merchant vessel from Antiva to Nevarra," the 'admiral' confirmed, "And a good part of the Armada too, of which we are the first to arrive. You have friends in high places."

"Or low, depending on your opinion of Tevinter mages," the pirate added.

The news that the pirates had been conscripted to aid us was a surprising one, but I wasn't the man to underestimate Tiberius' reach. Besides, some of the pirates sold people into slavery, and there was only one place you could do that in the open: Tevinter.

"It seems we've been very rude," said Julie in accented Common, "We should introduce ourselves. I am Julie Hunt, High Chancellor of the Free Army. This is Sam Hunt, Commanding General. Tam Hunt, Warden-Commander. Armen Cartier, First Enchanter of the Hearth Circle. Ciara of the Virnehn. Malika Cadash. And most of the Army High Command, Soprano, McNulty, Louise and Mariette de Villars, Mike, Barris, and Isewen." Each person gave a word or gesture of greeting in turn. That she had used their nicknames rather than their actual names seemed to increase the friendliness of the conversation.

"Warden-Commander?" the 'admiral' purred, "Now, that is interesting. Wardens have great stamina. I know from experience, experience I'd like to repeat." Tam actually blushed, God help her.

The other one had a more banal complaint.

"Sam and Tam Hunt?" asked Eye-Patch, "How do you keep that straight?"

"We manage," Tam replied flatly. We did. Badly. Sometimes Julie would call for one of us, and both of us would come running. Luckily, such moments tickled Julie and it usually ended with a suitably lustful conclusion. We were generally happy to be called away by mistake in such a way.

"I would have thought the surname would have been the interesting part," I said. The rumours had done the explaining for me, and had actually gone further than the reality. Pretty much any female in my company, except Leha, was rumoured to be sharing my bed. That's the sort of flattery I can live with, frankly.

"We know who you are," said the 'admiral', "Word gets around when a man claiming to be from another world conquers a chunk of Orlais and takes enough lovers to start a brothel. Between the conquering and the … _conquering_ , I wonder where you find the time to sleep."

"It _is_ hard," I said, playing along and falling straight into her trap.

"I bet _it_ is," the 'admiral' snickered. That set off the entire lot of our officers and my companions. Even Louise allowed herself an amused breath, despite herself.

The newcomers proceeded to give their idea of a formal introduction.

"Admiral Isabela of the Felicisima Armada," said the Rivaini, with a sarcastic bow, "And this is my saucy first mate Marian."

The eye-patched Marian made a similarly theatrical bow, complete with a hand flourish to the side.

"Marian _Hawke?_ " asked Barris, piping up at last, "The Champion of Kirkwall?"

The resemblance hit me at once. This was definitely a relative of Bethany. The eyepatch and bandana had thrown me off before, but once I had caught on, it was strangely obvious. I wonder if Warden Hawke approved of Pirate Hawke's choice of career. I doubted it, given how straight-laced the former was.

Heads turned swiftly to Marian, as she planted her face firmly in her hands. "No?" she offered weakly, "Okay, yes, but I'm not the Champion of anything any more. Please don't act like I'm royalty or a criminal, people tend to do one or the other and it is _very_ tedious."

"I told you that you should have chosen another first name," said Isabela, "They might not recognise it in Antiva, but you're actually from Ferelden. They tend to remember the names of famous Fereldans."

"You introduced me, remember?" the Champion replied, eyes narrowed.

Isabela blinked. "Oh, right," she said, "I did, didn't I? Well then, I guess I owe you a drink."

"More than that," said Marian, before turning back to us, "Anyway, unless you want to try and arrest or execute me, we'll be off. Meals to eat, whiskey to drink, spankings to administer to certain someones who speak before they think." If only.

She took up a stance, ready to draw her rapier in a single motion if required and leap forwards while doing it. Isabela didn't shift her weight, but still laid her palms on top of the hilts of her cutlasses. Firelances were lowered to fire once more in response, before I could give the order.

I looked to Julie. It was her call as our leader. She stared at the pair for a moment. By all accounts, the Champion of Kirkwall was a formidable warrior. With so many civilians mobbing about, I was hesitant to do anything to stop her, although perhaps Hawke would have thought twice for the same reason.

"You're free to go," Julie said, "We're not exactly on the party list of the Chantry either."

"But... Marquis," Barris started.

"No, Knight-Commander," Julie said, turning her green eyes on the man, "We're not going to arrest someone who has been hired to help us. We have no mandate to arrest people of interest to the Chantry to begin with. And as long as your Templars remain under the command of the Free Army, you will not touch a single hair on their heads. They are free to go." A jab at Velarana's proposal for Templar independence, which was known to be favourable to Barris, and a slip at how much it bothered her.

The Knight-Commander, lacking the ability to enforce his will, backed down with due grace. Once again, everyone relaxed and put away their weapons. And the reality of who had the power drew the attention of our guests.

The Rivaini sauntered up to Julie, and opened her closed furs with a tug. "You're not bad either," Isabela said with a wink, "Maybe we'll see you later."

My lover smiled, politely rather than lustfully. "I don't think so," Julie replied, "Although flattery is always appreciated."

"It ought to be rewarded," Isabela said, "Alas, sometimes it isn't."

"More the pity for us," Hawke said, "Come now darling, before the magisters arrive."

They made to go, having seemingly satisfied their wish to flirt and provoke. Not about to let them go and discover the fate of the other Hawke in Amaranthine outside of the proper context, I grabbed the Champion's arm, putting the absolute minimum of force into it. Both of them stopped again, although their hands stayed away from their weapons this time.

"Hawke," I said, before blades could be drawn, "Your sister is at Anora's Watch, if you want to visit her."

A single blue eye stared at me from under her black fringe, giving me the same sort of feeling I got from Nightingale at once. This was an exceedingly dangerous woman. Good thing I had gotten straight to the point.

"She isn't at the Vigil?" she asked, in an almost accusatory tone.

"She was part of an army that tried to stop us reaching the city," I said, "She was captured. She's technically our prisoner... but she's more or less free to go. She helped us with a few things, so I owe her."

Hawke looked up at the sky, processing what I had just informed her of. She seemed to waver between emotions, before settling on gratitude. "Thank you, Marquis," she said, using my title. A notable detail, as Julie had not in fact told her it. Infamy goes far.

The pair disappeared into the crowd with a few of their crewmates, easily melting into it with a compliment here and a shove of the shoulder there. I wondered if it was wise to simply let them go without an escort, but they didn't seem to be hostile. If anything, Admiral Isabela seemed a little too friendly.

They were interesting people, but not who the majority wanted to see. No, the throng's eyes and ears were drawn to the sight of the other ships.

* * *

With the pirate brigantines in the way, the crowd moved eastward along the quay to a place that wasn't occupied, nearby where our longships were docked and where a Tranquil shore battery was tracking the targets approaching us.

The shouts in Tevene carried during gaps in the wind's gusts, as the galleys slid smoothly towards the quay. They were bigger than the pirate ships, but not by much, also built for speed and the ability to sail in shallow waters. They had banks of oars sticking out of them, sweeping the near-black water of the harbour back. Thirty of them, coming in five at a time, black sails hoisting. They docked side by side, five deep, using ropes to draw themselves together as if to create a giant raft or quinmaran, oars withdrawn inside.

The soldiers on board began to make me nervous, stalking up and down their decks, helmets disguising their gazes into the crowd.

"I want a perimeter set up," I ordered, "No persons on the quays, keep them on the roads behind." That was still within the range of the magic that the Tevinter mages no doubt possessed, but at least gave our troops room to fight too.

"Yes, my lord!" Mike replied, and rushed off, her voice booming commands as she went and my UN banner drawing the eye. As usual, her volume did its work and the civilians began backing off, while soldiers in the midst began assembling in formation, before being ordered off to surround the part of the docks that the Tevinters were moving in. The troops were a mishmash from various units. Dismounted chevaliers with their longswords drawn alongside elven firelancers of the Rangers, women of the crossbow regiments and the Templar half-pikes.

I was entirely satisfied with the arrangement, and by the time Mike returned, I was sure we presented a suitably martial image to the Tevinters.

One of the galleys wasn't a galley at all, but was a larger vessel by a considerable degree than the others. I had mistaken it as two ships from a distance. It was a catamaran with six masts, all of them with black sails on them, and no oars. The ship had a large central 'building' on top of it, draped with the dragon banners of Tevinter, not dissimilar to a It clearly wasn't a military vessel. At least not in the traditional sense, it was still bristling with ballista, but it was more akin to a luxury oceanliner like those that now bring tourists from Antiva, Orlais and Nevarra to Troy. Where we can fleece them for all they're worth. I digress.

It was being tugged in to dock in the same way the brigantines had been, although this was taking a considerably longer amount of time due to the size of the thing. Our galleons were larger still, at least in terms of decks, but they didn't have the profile in the water that this monstrosity did. I shook my head as the sheer overengineering became apparent to me.

"If Tiberius isn't on board that _thing,_ I'll eat my hat," I thought aloud, "Look at it. How did that thing ever cross an ocean in winter?" In truth, the winter storms only occur in late January-mid Feburary, as the warm currents begin to return to the south.

"Magic," came the reply. Velarana rejoined us, stepping up beside Julie, leaning on her staff in the way mages seemed want to do. Fisher was with her, his mouth closed shut and not looking liable to flap open any time soon. Hiding something, I thought, probably a huge distaste for Tevene folks.

"Barrier spells," Armen confirmed, "I'd imagine the Tevinters are quite handy with them, given that the Qunari have cannon."

"Does that mean they could deflect our own?" Mariette asked, "That might be a problem." She clearly didn't like the idea of the mages being immune to our weapons. I'm sure the Tevinters would have thought much the same of my own immunity to magic.

"Qunari cannons shoot explosive and incendiary shots at low velocity," Julie said, matter-of-factly, "Our _canon de 75_ shoot at high velocities with both explosive and solid shot. I very much doubt that their magical barriers would withstand even a single hit. And those are our lightest field pieces." No shortage of Earth-borrowed words there, and all deployed to show up the harlequin's fears as unfounded. I winced. More evidence of a growing rift.

"Has anyone ever told you that you are a know-it-all?" Mariette asked cheekily.

"Mari..." Louise warned, disapproving of the insubordination and informality of her younger cousin. Mariette didn't respond.

Julie wasn't phased at all, however. "Many times," she smirked, "And it never stops me from being correct, even when they do." Mariette fumed slightly in return, but kept quiet.

"Aside from that, don't you think this is inappropriate?" Velarana asked Julie, waving her hand at the group, "Shouldn't we have an honour guard at the ready? We're entering into an alliance with these magisters, after all."

Julie frowned, not generally one to put pomp and ceremony at the fore but still recognising its value. "You may be right," she said, "Sam?"

I pursed my lips and thought about what would be appropriate. "Armen, Soprano, assemble your regiments in formation. Rangers with bayonets fixed. Mages with swords. Go."

"Right away," Armen said, hurrying off with Soprano to do that.

"Elves and mages?" Ciara asked, stepping into the space that Armen had created by his departure, "You'll just confuse the Tevinter shems."

"They need to know exactly what sort of people we are, right away," I said, before turning to Julie and Velarana, "Unless either of you object?"

"No, it's a good idea," Julie said.

"Maybe we'll get to kill a few of the more zealous _saarebas_ ," Tam added cheerily, "They are certain to deserve it."

"Not likely," said Leha, "I doubt they'll bring anyone who'd react like that."

We'd just have to see. As the catamaran docked, the quay opposite was cleared of obstacles by Armen's people, while Soprano got the Rangers presentable. Both regiments lined up parallel to the road behind facing the ships, Old Glory and their dark blue regimental banners at the centre of each of their companies, the mages to the left of us and the firelancers to the right. Soprano and Armen rejoined us just as the gangplanks slapped the stone.

The first Tevinter mage-soldiers began filing out of the Tevinter catamaran ship cautiously, and I was struck by the obvious Earth influences immediately. Gladius-style swords on their hips, and staffs with _katana_ blades on the top of them. I couldn't tell if they were all mages or if they deliberately carried the same weapons in order to disguise who among them did possess that gift. Their helmets had face-plates in the shape of some sort of humanoid monster, and the centurions' own had crests running side to side in the Roman style. Their armour was pure samurai with hints of Roman. Segmented, of either metal or hardened leather from the shoulders to the thighs, coloured in streaks of dark green and light shades of brown; jungle camouflage.

They had come straight from Seheron, I concluded.

The sight of them set a lot of teeth on our side on edge, including my own. I took hold of the pistol grip of the firelance hanging off the front of me almost without thinking, and I saw that both Tam and Julie had done the same with firelance and shotgun respectively.

The Tevinter soldiers fanned out, standing in a sort of staggered pattern that would allow them to use magic freely. One made a signal towards the ship once the deployment was complete, and the doors to the 'building' on top of the catamaran opened once more.

Tiberius stepped out of them first, wearing black furs over his blue jester-like magister robes. In his hand was a staff with a dragon's head on the top in volcanic aurum. What he had used to incinerate the Templars on our first meeting, almost exactly a year before. His eyes searched the dock until they found me, and a smile beamed from his face. I groaned to myself at the return of his excessive familiarity.

Next came Gaius, similarly dressed to his grandfather, albeit in red. He gave me a look like he had just caught me in bed with his wife and his daughter at the same time, and probably wanted to be anywhere else in the world but there at that moment. Which was plain funny to my mind, and went a long way towards cheering me up from the effects Tiberius' own attitude.

Behind the familiar pair came a positive queue of other people, all very well dressed and with black seeming to be the colour of choice for most. The family resemblance in most of them was hard to dismiss; they had all come to see the wedding. At least half had the same honey coloured eyes as the prospective bride to be, whom seemed to be noteworthy in her absence.

"Where is she?" Julie asked quietly, as my soon-to-be in-laws descended the gangplanks.

"No clue," I replied, taking off my helmet and putting on my beret, despite the cold nipping at the tops of my ears.

The familiar magister broke ahead of the pack, Gaius following quickly.

"Sam!" Tiberius said in greeting as he approached, arms outstretched, "How wonderful to see that you arrived in one piece!"

"More or less," I said, offering my hand for him to shake, "You're early."

"So are you," Tiberius replied, taking the offered hand, "And there are the most fantastical tales circulating about how you achieved that. The Deep Roads?"

I grimaced, not particularly wanting to dwell on that experience. "Yeah, we went through them," I said, "Lost good people too. I almost lost more to Blight sickness, Tam included."

Tiberius turned to my Qunari lover. "I'm glad to hear you aren't among those who perished, my lady," he said, "After all, it was you who made our agreement possible by coming up with the idea of founding a new city."

"I'm glad to be alive too," Tam said nonchalantly.

"And she got a promotion," said Julie with a small shrug, "She's Warden-Commander now, a rank worthy of her station."

Tam cleared her throat and blushed, seeing the 'promotion' as more of a duty than a deserved elevation. Which simply endeared her to both Julie and I even more.

"Is she indeed?" Tiberius said, "Is it also true that you sent the Fereldans to rout at the Hafter?"

"It must be, grandfather," Gaius said coolly, "They would not be here if it wasn't."

"That was a nasty fight," I said, the memory of the bodies and Howe's kick rattling in my head, "But we broke the Royal Army with it and captured Alistair."

"And released him, if the rumours are correct," Tiberius said, "Let me tell you, that did wonders for your reputation. No sooner than word came that he had been captured did many of the nobles fear for his life, yet word of his release came a few days later, and it was universally regarded as praiseworthy. Worthy of a true noble in fact."

Tiberius turned his gaze to Julie on that last remark. She didn't raise any objection to her being called noble, to my great surprise.

"He was no longer a threat," Julie said, "And it's not like we would have gained anything from keeping him hostage. Better to create goodwill by releasing him."

"And yet the Fereldans might rally around him to attack once more," Gaius said, "Maybe you weren't as smart as you thought you were."

As usual, Gaius stepped all over my nerves with his contrarian nature.

"Well, if the ghost of Bitch Pudding hasn't made a triumphant return," I said, before pointing at him, "Mariette, if he speaks like that again, stick him with your daggers." Mariette also being someone I had dubbed with that moniker.

The harlequin and the young magister looked utterly bewildered, eyebrows raised. Gaius for reasons I couldn't discern, because he kept a constant scowl that Markham would have been impressed by, Mariette because I had just bragged that she could kill a very powerful mage. Exactly the type of reactions I was looking for though, and I was cheered up immensely, my having to deal with Tiberius completely worth the trouble now.

"Yes, Marquis," Mariette replied at last, eliminating any sign of hesitation from her voice with admirable efficacy. Trying to keep on my good side, I thought.

Julie's lips thinned at the remark, clearly disapproving and returning us on course. "If the Fereldans return, we'll defeat them again," she said to the senior magister, "With or without your help."

"With our help, certainly," Tiberius said, shooting a cold glare at his grandson. Bewilderment withered into obedience, as the younger man stood up straighter and coughed.

"I'm glad to hear it," Velarana said.

The magister blinked, and cocked his head slightly at the Aequitarian, like she was entirely out of place. He seemed to look around, wondering what she was doing standing there. The rest of the Tevinters had caught up now, and were politely listening in too. The well dressed section as well as what appeared to be two or three of the samurai-like soldiers, presumably all members of the family. Dynasty. Whatever the hell you call it.

"Have you been promoted, Madame Velarana?" Tiberius said. He was familiar with the mage from the Lydes-Vindargent campaign, and evidently felt she was talking out of place.

"Actually, that's the thing," I said, "You've arrived at an awkward time. We're electing our new Assembly in two days time. Velarana is the leader of the Aequitarian fraternity contesting it, and is a candidate for High Chancellor."

"Not the only one, of course," Julie added.

"Of course," Tiberius smiled, "I would expect nothing else, Marquise."

The mages began chatting in hushed tones to one another, like that piece of information was significant. They made quite a racket, and soon, the crowd behind us was making an even bigger one. They didn't know what was going on. I crossed my hands over the butt of my firelance, wondering if the issue was going to be a problem. I had expected tolerance from the Vints for mages, even elven ones.

"A mage leader?" Gaius said, glancing at Tiberius, "Your prediction about their future is happening faster than you thought it would."

"There will be plenty of time for that later," Tiberius said irritably, "In the mean time, do you have quarters for our family? We would like to freshen up after the long journey, before you are formally introduced to them... and to Aurelia."

Nicely skipping over what the trouble was. I breathed outward with relief, glad that Tiberius didn't want to make an issue of it, whatever _it_ was.

"We've prepared an entire wing of the castle for you," I said, "Though Fereldan furnishings aren't the most luxurious."

"I'm sure we'll survive," Tiberius said with a wave of his hand, "Or we can bring some of our necessities up from the ships."

"And the crews?" Julie asked, "Do they require accommodations? Or are they not at liberty to leave the ships?"

I had almost forgotten that … problem. I was amazed that Julie had brought it up so politely.

The magister feigned outrage, putting his hand in front of his mouth and audibly sucking in air.

"Your implication that they are slaves does injustice both to my reputation and to your own intelligence," Tiberius replied, without malice, "Do you think slave owners, even if they were mages, would get into a floating box with ten, maybe twenty times the number of slaves? So far from Tevinter? Or that slaves would even make good rowers?"

The man was a real peach.

"I'm sure it depends on how hard you'd whip them," I replied flatly, "Do you have slaves with you at all?"

The magister's smile widened. He knew the question had been coming.

"A few," Tiberius conceded, "But they'll remain aboard our ship, if you wish?"

"No need. We are duty bound to offer them freedom, on or off the ship," Julie said, "Our laws specifically criminalise involuntary servitude."

"Indeed they do, magister," Velarana weighed in, "It is non-negotiable."

Tiberius looked to Gaius, and then to the rest of the family. The entire lot of them positively erupted with laughter from the bottom of their hearts, like the whole thing was a joke. They spoke in Tevene to each other as they did so, which seemed like a strange mix of Latin, Elvish and Common. I already knew that Ancient Tevene was straight-up Latin, but even in laughter, the modern type seemed utterly alien. It made them seem even more titillated to my ear.

"Oh, dear Marquise, you will be free to do so," Tiberius said, wiping his eyes, "I can tell already that this whole trip is going to be very entertaining. But we can get to the fun later, can we get out of this terrible wind now?"

Julie scowled at the magister, joined by Velarana's icy glare.

"Knight-Commander Barris," I called. The Templar stepped forwards immediately.

"My lord?" he said.

"Your Templars will escort the Tevinter delegation," I said, "To the north wing. After that, you're to do as we discussed." Which was to patrol the docks and keep guards on the Tevinters at all times.

"Templars, really Sam?" Tiberius said, "You could destroy us with your bare hands."

"I can't be everywhere at once though, can I?" I said, "And it's as much for your protection as ours. Your people have been the Southern Chantry's boogeyman for centuries, remember? And even you can take a kitchen knife to the back easily enough."

"Not that easily," Tiberius replied grimly, "As much as I am disappointed at the lack of trust, I understand your point of view. Very well. Lead on, Ser Barris."

The Templar did as instructed, waving his fellows in the perimeter to his side. They formed a protective bubble around the group. The Tevinters largely allowed themselves to be corralled, with some mild encouragement from Tiberius himself, who fell in beside Barris and began idly inquiring about Templar capabilities. Barris, very wisely, politely declined to answer. Tiberius knew all about Templar abilities already, no doubt, and he was just trying to get a rise out of the man.

One of the camo-armoured soldiers hung back for a bit. She stood out for that reason, despite being among the smaller members of the delegation. It had to be a she for that reason alone. She was barely taller than five feet, and her sword-staff was taller than she was by a foot. Her helmet turned towards me, revealing the snarling mouth-mask of a samurai.

And bright, honey coloured eyes.

My heart froze. It was _her_ , it had to be. I kicked myself for comparing those eyes to the pirate admiral's even for a second. They were almost luminously golden, and were wide, like a cat's. Or perhaps a tigress'.

But my view of them lasted only for a split second, before their owner broke into a sprint to catch up with Tiberius. The crowds were roaring, with jubilation in fact, as the Tevinters passed by, the magister lazily waving his hand in salute to them. The promised fleet at arrived. The samurai-mage went to the very front.

"Sam?" Julie asked, "What's wrong?"

"That was Aurelia," I said, "That last soldier."

Julie double-taked between me and the Tevinter delegation. "Which soldier?" she asked.

I squinted, trying to see if I could point out the woman in question, but she was lost behind the rear section. Julie understood that I couldn't see the soldier from my face, and let it be.

"Honey-coloured eyes..." Tam added in agreement, "She was in Seheron, correct?"

"Yeah," I said, "All the soldiers were."

"I wonder what sort of action she's seen," McNulty mused aloud, "How the Qunari fight there... in the jungle."

"Seheron is chaos," Tam replied, "The only place there is order is in the coastal cities, and that is fleeting."

"And that's the environment your bride has been living in?" Velarana asked, grasping her staff in front of her, "This will be interesting."

"That it will," I said.

Fisher choose to speak at last, now that the mages were gone. I had entirely misplaced him due to his silence, and jumped a little when he finally did open his mouth. "Too interesting," he said, before shutting up again.

Velarana shot him another icy look, before leading the way back to Anora's Watch ahead of us. No love lost, obviously.

* * *

It took several hours for the Tevinters to settle in, and they made quite a commotion doing it. The quarters we had assigned them, the north wing, were simultaneously too drafty and too small for the entire group. Worse, they sent a centurion to address these concerns directly to me, the man himself being suitably apologetic at having been sent on such an errand.

I killed two birds with one stone. I moved the Army High Command out of the west wing, which freed up more space and wasn't directly in the winds coming off the sea. Our generals and other officers weren't delicate people, they could rough it in far worse conditions than sharing the rooms we had in the east wing. Not even Mariette de Villars complained, and she was the most aristocratic of us. Julie, Tam and I still remained in the royal suite, but Leha, Armen and Ciara were now going to sleep in our room.

After that came the slave issue. Each of the delegation brought their own personal servant. Soprano's people took each aside separately before they entered the keep, ordering the Tevinter soldiers away at bayonet point. Better to keep the political leadership out of the job directly, we thought. The slaves were alone, and could have never looked upon their masters again in their lives.

Not a single one wanted to leave their masters.

Julie was shocked by the news, completely unable to comprehend the decision. Velarana was disappointed, merely saying that chains can begin to feel like protection after a while, a sentiment both Tam and Armen agreed with heartily.

I was probably the only one who wasn't surprised. Tiberius and his family didn't strike me as the vicious slaveowners that the Tevinter reputation told of. He valued loyalty from those that served him and claimed to know how to inspire it. Fear alone doesn't create loyalty, merely obedience. I'm absolutely sure his slaves still feared him, but they respected him more. They wouldn't have run from a chance to escape otherwise. I'm sure of all the people that could have protected them, they were aware that I had the best shot.

The experience nonetheless put me on the back foot. I had expected to go in, head held high, with some evidence of the superiority of our system and my values. Or at least, evidence that it was better than the Tevinter system, even for people with benevolent masters. Especially with the election and all. I felt like Julie's chances would be lowered because of it, like Velarana's arguments about what you might call a hybrid system were validated in some way. If word got out, at any rate, but word always gets out.

The introduction was set for the Chantry chapel of the keep, where presumably Bann Howe and her husband could receive ministration without rubbing elbows with the plebs when they were angry with her. It was a small enough room, no bigger than a large classroom really, you could probably get forty or so people in it comfortably. It had stained glass looking west, and the candles burning around the space provided light during the evening hours, which we certainly needed at that hour. The statue of Andraste at the back of the room had shadows thrown against it. It was definitely a place to feel closer to God, I felt.

I had changed into my most clean, most intact uniform and got there first. The one I only ever wore for occasions like this. Armen came with me. Everyone else being completely absent. The Tevinters were late, Julie and Tam were late, and I wasn't sure if either Ciara or Leha were bothered to come. Armen was only there for moral support.

I would have asked McNulty too, but he had duties to attend to that I didn't want to interrupt; namely policing the taverns as the crew of the _Sirens' Revenge_ made the rounds. Bethany Hawke had been released to Marian Hawke's custody as promised, and along with Admiral Isabela, the three were tearing up the town with Oghren and Sigrun. The report I got just before I left the library was astonishing. Half the Red Light District's workers were in the Crown and Lion. That says it all, I think.

"Where are they?" I asked, to no one in particular.

"The Tevinters?" Armen asked in return, playing with his staff, "Getting dressed, I would imagine. It's an immortal moment for them, remember?"

"Jesus, you're right," I said, the historical significance occurring to me all of a sudden, "Do I look decent?" I pulled my collar up and down again, to make sure.

Armen's lips curled into an even wider smirk. "Sam, you are not nervous, are you?"

"Of course I am!" I burst out, "Every single person out there is counting on me not to fuck this up."

Armen's smirk turned into a frown. "You've never been nervous when we went to battle," he said, "Why is this any different?"

"This is... _marriage_ ," I observed astutely, "I've been trained for battle. I know sweet fuck all about marriage."

"What do you call the past year and a half with Julie and Tam?" Armen asked, "Is 'fornication' all you've been up to?" He smirked again.

"Then again, maybe it is," he added with amusement.

"The last year and a half is love," I said, without hesitation, "But as my baby sister likes to say, that's a different thing to marriage. Besides, neither Christian nor Andrastian beliefs allow for polygamy."

"An inconvenient but avoidable problem," said Armen with a dismissive wave of the hand, "Tiberius has already given you the answer, and despite your objections, I think you'd marry twelve women if you think you could get away with it. You're making excuses now. You're marrying someone you have never met, who could turn out to be a complete bitch or someone who hates everything you stand for, and you're scared. Does that about sum it up?"

I began to get angry with the mage, the blood rushing to my face. I was quite indignant about his impression of me. But both the anger and hot blood drained out of me seconds later. "Fuck," I said, pinching the bridge of my nose, "You're right, aren't you, you little shit."

The mage bowed at the waist to me. "Always glad to be of service," Armen said graciously, "And I'm sure you will remember this day if I ever decide to get married to Ciara."

"You can bet your bottom dollar on that," I sighed, "Though I suspect it'll be Ciara doing the deciding on that."

"True," Armen conceded, idly scratching at the wood of his staff with his fingernails, "But only because that's how it should be. I wouldn't want to put chains around her neck."

"She's Dalish," I said, "Probably the smart move. But don't get too smart. She might take it as a sign that you don't want to be together."

"Duly noted," Armen smirked, before adding, "Sometimes I don't understand women."

"You and me both," I replied, "Truth be told, I'm not sure anyone does. Even other women."

We had a good, manly chuckle at that, perfectly content not to have any female company around that could have heard the remark. That is, until Grand Cleric Brandon positively burst through one of the double doors to the chapel, red-faced and panting, her hat in her hands rather than on her head.

"Oh shit" was my first thought. I'm still not sure if it was expressed verbally too, but it could have been.

The short red-blonde haired cleric looked at me like she was an immortal that stood twenty feet tall, despite being almost exactly the same age that I was. A goddess with plans for my life that I couldn't avoid. She pointed at me.

"I've been waiting for this day for a year or more, Marquis," she said, pleased with herself about something.

Armen and I exchanged looks, wondering what could have provoked this behaviour.

"The day I meet my Maker?" I joked back, half in confusion, "Or the day I get formally betrothed to pay for a boat trip?"

Brandon tutted, moving into the chapel, my attention firmly stuck to her. She came right up to me, and poked the finger into my chest. "The day you do what you should have done long ago," she said, "I lied for you, Marquis, to prevent the worst of this Tevinter travesty. Or at least, went along with _your_ lies. We're going to correct that today."

The remaining double door squealed as it opened.

Behind was Julie and Tam, side by side, hand in hand. Julie was dressed in a brilliant white dress with a plunging neckline that revealed a thin gold necklace. I recognised it as something Claire had been working on, but I had no idea it had been for Julie. Tam in full Grey Warden regalia, minus any armour and most of the cloth that would have covered her torso. They both stepped into the candlelight, like nymphs from a Greek myth.

I'm sure Ciara and Leha were there too, somewhere, but my memory doesn't include them at that moment. I zoned Armen completely out too.

Because I knew now what Brandon was talking about.

"Are you sure about this?" I asked, unable to think of anything else. I still wasn't sure that it was the best idea, that I was the right person to be permanently tied to the genius of these two.

"I am," said Julie, nervously, "And as for Tam..."

The Qunari looked at the ceiling for a bit.

"I do not believe in these ceremonies," Tam said, drawing closer, "But I demand your oath, here and now... that you will at least try to give me what I was denied by the Qun, that you will give me children. A family."

A lump rose in my throat. Talk about a responsibility. I fought it down with great effort. "You'll have it," I replied, "I swear it."

Tam turned to Julie. "And you," she said, "Promise me that this will never come between us."

Julie's eyes watered up, and she drew forwards, grabbing Tam into a tight hug. "You belong to both of us," she said, "And always will. I will love your children like they were my own."

"And I will love yours," Tam replied, closing her own arms around Julie.

"Wow, hold on," Julie laughed through her tears, "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. Marriage first, children later, maybe." She wasn't all that keen to spawn an entire brood, after all.

Tam let out an amused breath. "It's inevitable though," she said, before turning to Brandon, "Priest, marry these two already."

Ciara squealed with delight, finally making herself known to my memories and equally teary eyed as Julie. Leha tried her best to look annoyed, but was failing. My heart was thumping at my chest like it wanted to get out.

Brandon cleared her throat. "I disapprove of this arrangement," she said, eyeing Tam, "But I know better than to try and convince you to forego it. Further, Warden-Commander, I believe you will help restrain the influence of this Tevinter witch, therefore I give you my blessing. Protect these souls from their black agenda, I implore you."

"I will," Tam said, "You need not worry about that."

"Good," Brandon continued, "Then we shall begin. Let's make this quick, we do not know when that idiot magister will arrive. Marquis, repeat the vows after me."

 _"I swear unto the maker and the Holy Andraste to love this woman the rest of my days."_

* * *

And so on December 13th, 9:39 Dragon, I was married to Julie and Tam, at long last. Tam in spirit if not on paper, Julie finally becoming Marquise de la Fayette and Baronetess of Ancienmaison. I like to remind myself that the Andrastian marriage vows don't actually state anything about exclusivity. I guess they leave that up to the couples. Besides, the Chantry is Orlesian, and expecting absolute fidelity from Orlesian nobles in particular might present a problem.

The Tevinters never did show that night. To this day, I wonder if they got word of Julie running from the royal chambers in white and decided it would be imprudent. They did send a Templar to the chapel to inform us that they wouldn't be coming however, so we weren't standing around all night.

So we went and consummated instead. Which was 'dangerous' for both of my wives. Three cheers for biology. Now not only did we not care about the consequences of that, but we desired those consequences. What happened, happened.

Christ, even today, writing down 'my wives' feels wrong.

* * *

The next day, the day just before the election, I finally met Aurelia.

Julie was out trying to win the election with Leha, Tam was continuing to learn her new role from Andras. Ciara and Armen accompanied me around the keep that day, and no formal introduction had been scheduled. I figured we'd just end up doing it that night, and went about my regular business accordingly. I thought I'd be free to start organising the order in which we'd load the ships that were coming, and more sails were spotted on the horizon that morning.

People kept remarking that I was going around with a stupid look on my face, like I was dazed or drunk. The euphoria hadn't worn off.

I had guessed wrong.

I was in the ballroom of the keep, visiting our wounded. It was the newest part of the keep, added as an afterthought to my eye, only completed the year before. Markham and McNulty were present, as were some of the Hospitallers.

I was talking to one of the Grenadiers' casualties, Sergeant Julien Beauvilliers, who had lost his left hand at the Hafter. To Alistair himself, no less. The wound had been infected, and Markham had to keep him dosed up to the eyeballs with magic for nearly three weeks before the infection was broken. Beauvilliers was afraid that he'd be discharged and be made destitute, and I was assuring him that it was an unnecessary concern, that his job was more about command and that we'd soon have handcannons that would allow him to shoot and load one-handed.

My reassurances were interrupted by the sound of dozens of footsteps began rumbling beyond the doorway to the entrance hall.

A cluster of Templars appeared in the doorway, facing not into the ballroom but outwards. Barris was commanding them from behind. They drew their swords and formed a line across the doorway, preventing the entrance of whoever else was there.

"What the hell?" I said.

"Stand aside, southerners!" came an accented voice, thoroughly aristocratic and thoroughly female, "I do not need my magic to send you to the Void, I warn you!"

Speaking common, too.

"Is that..." Armen began.

"It's her!" Ciara squeaked, "It has to be." She half ran to the door to get a look.

I sighed, and looked at the sergeant. "Looks like duty calls," I said, "Like I said, don't worry, we'll take care of you. You will not be forced out of the Army."

"Thank you, Marquis," replied Beauvilliers, "I'll go out the back door."

"No, stay," I said, "I want witnesses, all of a sudden."

The sergeant chuckled at that. The commotion at the doorway seemed to increase. There was an increasing need to hurry. Ciara was mouthing 'It's her' back at us, standing on her toes to get a look over Barris' shoulder. It was annoying: I was in my armour and was armed, not dressed up like I was the night before. The Tevinters would have to get over it, I decided.

"Knight-Commander, let them in," I commanded loudly, "It's okay."

Barris jumped, having not noticed I was in here, and apparently not having been informed by the mages trying to gain access. But he did as he was ordered, shouting for his Templars to withdraw. Markham gave a quiet word to one of his own lieutenants, and his Hospitallers drew around the wounded soldiers and handed swords to those that could use them. A bit melodramatic, I thought, but such was the atmosphere.

The Tevinters poured into the room at a brisk walking pace.

Tiberius first. Then Gaius and collection of what I can assume were his cousins and brothers, all of them in the soldierly garb that made them all look like jesters and carrying mage-staves. All of them dark-haired, well built and looking at me like I was robbing the pantry.

After that, the female relatives great and small, from older aunts to child cousins. Wearing dresses in various colours, but consistently dark and mixed with black, and many of them wore heavy black eyeshadow and black lipstick that was the style in Tevinter. I hadn't even realised that there were children in the delegation, they must have been kept on board ship until the crowds had dispersed the day before. Later, I'd be told that the kids and their guardians had gone through the Free Marches to take ship in Ostwick. Quite a journey.

No Aurelia yet though. She stayed beyond the threshold. Ciara was rapidly pointing that way from a place she could see through the doorway. To the bemusement of nearby Templars and Tevinters.

"Tiberius," I said, "What's the hurry?"

"Aurelia grew impatient with the formality," the magister replied, "So we decided to simply find you."

"If that makes you happy, sure," I said, "How do we do this?"

"Sacrifice a few slaves?" Armen joked, "Then eat their livers?"

The magister gave a single laugh, like that might actually be preferable to the reality.

"You must meet the family," Tiberius said, "And then, you meet the bride."

I eyed the doorway. I saw that Ciara had moved to it, and was talking with someone happily. How unusual, I thought.

"I already know Gaius here," I said, with a wave at the man himself, "Who's first?"

Tiberius stepped aside. Two people approached.

A man that could have been a younger clone of Tiberius himself, his hair jet black rather than greying and his face not possessing the wrinkles of someone who fought. In truth, he was a little better looking than the senior Tiberius. He had to be only a few years over forty, although who knew how old he actually was, and he didn't seem to have a martial air about him despite his Tevene military clothing. He had near-golden eyes too.

A short and slender woman, as short as the soldier on the docks had been, came up too. She looked even younger, and I was absolute sure that this was the result of magic. She couldn't have been more than a few years older than Tam was, at least in terms of what I could read from her face and energy. She had the aforementioned black eyeshadow and black lipstick, which emphasized the shape of her eyes; wide like a cat's.

Apples don't fall far from the tree, as the old saying goes.

"Valentinius Tiberius Titum, praefectus castrorum of the Western legions," the man said, "And my wife, Portia Tiberia Fabiana."

"Call them Valentine and Portia, if you'd like," said Tiberius.

The mother of Aurelia curtsied with her wide skirt, the Orlesian style dominant even in Tevinter despite the assertions of superiority of the latter.

"Samuel Hunt," I replied, "Marquis de la Fayette, Commanding General of the Free Army."

"And Baronet of Ancienmaison," Armen added cheerily, "For what that's worth."

"Not much now," I agreed, not appreciating the addition, "I'm sorry that your daughter has to marry me, I'm sure you would have preferred a mage from Tevinter, and I get the impression that I'm robbing you of a political opportunity too."

The mother of the bride took my hand. "Oh no, Marquis," said Portia, with great warmth, "You are doing us a favour. My daughter has repeatedly refused to marry, and followed her brothers onto the battlefield. That she agreed to marry you is nothing short of a miracle! I was afraid she never would get married!"

"It probably has something to do with the fact you're an Outlander," said Valentinius, "Don't get your expectations too high."

Fathers and their daughters, I thought.

"She reacted well to the sketches we sent, Valentine," Tiberius said, almost scoldingly, "You said so yourself."

"She has had offers from handsome men before," Valentine replied, equally defiant, "That one from House Pavus comes to mind."

"Dorian Pavus isn't interested and never will be," Tiberius smirked, "And House Pavus are a little too close to being traitors, as you well know."

"I'm glad to know you think I'm handsome," I cut in.

"I don't know of such things," Valentine objected, "My wife thinks so, therefore I must assume she is right."

"He is handsome," said Portia, "I'd marry him, if I were twenty years younger." I might have agreed, if she had been. Or not.

"I better watch out then," Valentine replied flatly, "In the mean time... Marcus! Quintus!"

Two men stepped forwards, both carrying the katana-staves of the troops we had seen on the docks, both as tall as their father and grandfather, both wide-eyed like their mother but lacking the golden irises, having the hazel of the father. Not unlike my own eye colour, actually, come to think of it. The inevitable thin Vinter nose and Tiberian jet black hair adorned the pair of them.

"My sons," Valentine said, "Marcus Tiberius and Quintus Tiberius. Both centurions in the Western legions." Marcus was the elder, thinner one, while Quintus was the younger, stockier one. Both looked like their could give me a run for my money, _sans_ firelance.

Both were in their mid-twenties, of an age with Gaius, meaning they were the elder brothers of Aurelia. Uh oh. I needed common ground established with them ASAP.

"Your mother said you were in the Army," I said, "Seheron, I presume?"

"And Rivain, once," replied Quintus.

"Hard fighting, I hear," I said.

"The Qunari are a race of giants," Marcus said with amusement, "They don't fall easily."

"They fomented a riot in Hearth and tried to drag me off to Par Vollen in the chaos," I replied, "They're definitely not small or easy to kill." I decided against mentioning the existence of Tam or Asala in this setting. Especially Tam.

"This is the part where we warn you to not abuse our sister," Marcus continued, his mirth maintained, "But I guess you know that."

"And you're annoyingly immune to magic," Quintus added, "Just like Keijiro." I had forgotten that almost all of them had actually met a person from Earth before, and it was a pleasant thing not to be looked at with awe in that regard.

"That would make threats more difficult to make," I replied, "But they're not necessary. I won't hurt your sister, and I'll do my best to make her happy even though this is a political marriage."

"Your other lovers may object to that," Valentine put in.

"They are mature enough to understand the necessity," I replied, "And in fairness, one of them is my legal wife."

"Under Southern law, maybe," Tiberius cut in, "But the only true law is Tevinter law. You would do well to keep that in mind, Sam." Not damned likely, I thought.

"I'll keep an open mind," I replied, "Who's next?"

The next few minutes were spent speaking briefly with the other relatives.

The eldest of Tiberius' children was Tullia, and her children, Paulus, Lucius and Gaello, all older than I was by five years or more. The first two were senior officers in the Western legions, the last was a judge. Emulating Tiberius' own career path closely, in other words.

Then Flavius, the middle child, and his children; Atia, Cassius, Maria, and Clodia. All younger than me and younger than Aurelia. Atia was the eldest at eighteen, or thereabouts, and I got the distinct feeling that she was the spare in case Aurelia hadn't agreed to marry me. All the other female cousins were either married or too young. She kept looking at me in a weirdly possessive way, and it was awkward as hell. She had probably seen the sketches. Atia was also the only redhead in the family, as far as I can tell, all the others having black hair.

Valentine was the youngest.

Aside from the direct aunts, uncles and cousins, there were assorted others, like Tiberius' niece Cornelia, whom Keijiro had raised. She actually greeted me in Japanese of all things. I gave her a quick _sumimasen_ , one of the few Japanese phrases I knew, and explained that I was from an entirely different country on Earth. She was well aware, and just wanted to surprise me with her proficiency. Which she had. She even bowed to me at the waist on approach and upon letting the next person greet me.

The notable absence was Tiberius' own wife. I didn't ask, because I had a deep suspicion that she was dead, and not of natural causes. Opening up old wounds wasn't the idea.

Every single one of them spoke the Common tongue with an accent I would describe as something you'd hear from the old English upper class. It wasn't their first language, I thought, but I was wrong. Only Tiberius and Gaius spoke Orlesian, incidentally.

The whole business put Armen's patience to the test, and when everyone was finally meet-and-greeted, he raised his voice. "Hello, Armen Cartier, First Enchanter of the Circle of Hearth here," he announced, "Is the bride going to stand outside forever? I thought you said she couldn't wait."

He had been extremely reluctant to join Ciara in the doorway, simply out of not wanting to miss a word, but that had proved more or less fruitless for his own entertainment once the brothers had stepped away. His verbal impatience drew annoyed glances, but he didn't care. Irony is that conversing with Ciara was probably the reason the bride had remained outside.

Tiberius gave the nod, not addressing Armen but going along with his idea. And in walked Aurelia.

She was wearing the underclothing for the segmented armour, rather than a dress. It was form-fitting, revealing that she was as slender as her mother by nature, but with obvious strength in her build created by the forces of military training. Her golden eyes looked out from under a curly black fringe, the rest of her hair falling to her neckline.

This isn't a bear, I thought, as I remembered Mariette's joke.

This is a panther.

With her came a she-elf, dressed in a dull green hood that hid her head save for her face and hunters' leathers, with a thick glove held outwards. Clutching the glove was a large, black eagle with a bright yellow beak. It stood proudly as it was brought alongside Aurelia. Ciara appeared on the other side, admiring it and tilting her head to catch my attention to look at it.

I was struck dumb, both by Aurelia and the presence of yet another eagle in my life.

On the former, because I felt a huge surge of guilt at finding the woman very attractive, after having done what I had done the night before. Behind me, Sergeant Beauvilliers whistled low and long in appreciation. I knew it was him, because Markham immediately rebuked him by name. I clearly wasn't the only one who found her beautiful.

On the latter, as I was now absolutely sure that something unnatural was up with the eagles, something related to the Fade and the mysterious spirit. Luckily, the man with the answers was standing directly to my left.

"An eagle?" Armen asked the magister in Orlesian.

"It's followed her for the past few years now," Tiberius replied, also in Orlesian, "Can't seem to get rid of it, so we trained someone to care for it. I understand you've had a similar problem." Trained a slave, in fact, but we'll get to that. And we sure as hell did have a similar problem. The two eagles that seemed to follow the army were then nesting on the masts of our galleon _Elodie_ and were stripping the seagull population down with considerable zeal.

Tiberius' spy network had obviously done its work there, but the piece of self promotion did no favours for the magister. Aurelia narrowed her wide eyes at him. She was waiting to be introduced formally, and brooked no delays.

"Sam, let me introduce my granddaughter," Tiberius said quickly, "Aurelia Tiberia Valentina, Lady of Treverorum, centurion of the Western legions."

I repeated my name and titles, and bowed to my fiancée. It seemed proper.

Aurelia reacted by approaching me, standing right in front of me. She reached up, touching my cheek, golden irises aimed right at me.

"So here we are," she said, drawing even closer.

"Here we are," I agreed.

"The sketch did you justice," she said quietly, quietly enough that no one else could hear.

"I'm glad to hear it," I replied, just as softly.

Aurelia lightly touched my arm, my chest, my hand, examining me. As I had examined her on her approach, and continued to. This is the first hurdle in any relationship, I think. It wasn't at all like I thought it was going to be, it wasn't an assessment for health and good traits like a stallion might receive from a buyer. That was a good sign.

I ventured to touch her face, and she allowed me to push her fringe back a little. Another pang of guilt checked me, and I withdrew my hand. But the damage was done. Aurelia knew I liked the way she looked now, if she didn't already.

"How many campaigns have you fought in?" she asked suddenly at normal volume, looking up at me. I was very pleased with the question. More seeking of common ground.

"Four on Earth," I replied, "Three to five on Thedas, depending on how you figure it."

Afghanistan three times, Iraq/Syria once. And on Thedas, the Wolf's Lair, the Emprise du Lion, Halamshiral, Lydes/Vindargent, and finally, the Ferelden Campaign.

"Earth..." she repeated, "Keijiro told terrible stories about war on Earth. The power of the weapons, and the lack of honour in its fighting."

"Then he was telling the truth," I said, "Though our weapons have become so powerful that we're afraid to go to war, for the most part."

"And you're bringing them into this world," Aurelia said, "Keijiro claimed he didn't know how to create black powder."

"Repeatedly," Tiberius added.

"Then he was lying," I said, "There's no way a Japanese officer would be ignorant about that sort of thing. It's just something you'd pick up in the course of learning about military history, and Japanese officers learned whole libraries' worth on that subject."

"I thought so," Aurelia said, "He always loved our family, but he was always more ambivalent about the Imperium itself."

"He did give us new tactics and strategems," Tiberius said, "The Western Legions are now the best regarded Qunari fighters in the world, because of him."

"And what will they be after us?" Aurelia asked, "You are aware of the Qun and its insanity, are you not?"

"Very aware," I said. Again, not mentioning the source of my information there; Tam.

"So you understand that this is not just a marriage," Aurelia continued, "This is an alliance. An alliance against the Qun and an alliance against whatever minnow Marchers decide to oppose us."

"I do," I replied.

Aurelia gave a single nod to herself. "I have demands," she said, "If we are to be married."

Tiberius opened his mouth to protest, but Aurelia again turned her golden eyes on her grandfather. He shut up. I was beginning to get the feeling that this whole affair represented a passing of a torch, to some degree. She was the heir, and only by virtue of her future with me.

"All our children will bear my surname," Aurelia stated, "I intend to have many. They will be a part of the Tiberian dynasty and will be known as such."

"As long as I get some say in their first names, I have no problem with that," I replied, "I have other lovers... ones with my surname." As in, I'm already married, I don't need you if I want children with my surname running around.

"Agreed," Aurelia continued, "Speaking of your lovers, any children by them will be raised separately to my children."

Every alarm in my head flashed at once. Agreeing to this could very well have been the moment that guaranteed the outcome predicted by the Fade Spirit; my descendants going to war could very well have been the result of this division among my children along the lines of mothers. All the more so as I still believed all of them would be mages, courtesy of my stewing in Fade juice during my journey to Thedas. Naturally, the mage mother would produce more powerful mage children, or at least that's how I thought it would play out.

"No, definitely not," I said, thinking of the best reason other than the above one, "My children are my children. I will not have them separated and I will not favour any of them over the others." That was a good enough reason as it was.

Aurelia frowned, her nose tweaking slightly with the gesture in a manner that was extremely attractive. "That's what you're worried about?" she asked, "I thought you would agree to avoid conflict with your lovers."

"Let me make something clear," I said, "My children, when I have them, will always be _the_ most important thing to me. All of them."

Aurelia looked at me with more admiration than before, like I had said something good. It just seemed like common sense to me, or as much of it as could be applied to a man having kids with more than one woman. Which admittedly isn't much.

"I told you," Tiberius said from the side, "We are very fortunate."

"We are," Aurelia agreed, "To think, a man as honourable as Keijiro was chosen and brought to us. We are blessed."

"Are you testing me?" I asked with a grin, "Trying to gauge my reactions to your demands?"

"Maybe," Aurelia smiled back, "We don't have a lot of time. I need to know as much as possible."

I couldn't deny that, and invited her to continue.

"I want to command a unit in your Free Army," she continued, "I am a soldier, just like you are. I am driven insane with boredom doing almost anything else. But I cannot bear your children if I stay with our army. I must join yours, even though I am foreign."

That might have been a problem. Non-citizens commanding military units. Her last word presented the answer.

"Well, I am not sure how our citizenship laws are going to be set up just yet," I said, "But on Earth, there was something called the Foreign Legion. Non-citizens fighting for a country in order to gain citizenship. I could probably set up such a legion in our own army on my own authority. So yes, you can have your own unit. I can't make any promises about size though, and overall command will still be mine."

"Acceptable," Aurelia said.

"How much fighting do you intend to do exactly?" Armen said, "Aren't you going to be pregnant most of the time?"

"You're a mage," Aurelia said, addressing Armen for the first time, "I'm a mage. We both know I can mitigate the effects until very late in the process. Nor is it absolutely necessary for us to be in peak physical condition to fight, and certainly not to command. But the concern is still valid. I am merely securing myself the position for when I am not with child."

"You seem enthusiastic about the childmaking," Armen said, "I thought you kept refusing to get married."

"I am securing my family's legacy and the security of my country," Aurelia replied, "Not to mention gaining great power for myself, both in magical and political terms. Why would I not be enthusiastic? The method of doing all of this is even greatly enjoyable, and motherhood is a great joy, supposedly."

"It is," her mother said wistfully.

I half-choked on that. It was a perspective so detached from the modernity of Earth that I had forgotten it was the norm. Tam had just struck me as being an outlier. Nope, it's pretty much what the Chantry teaches young girls. Especially in Tevinter, and especially to the nobility. I'm sure there's a complaint to be had about that, but I'm not the right person to make it. Lana Duquesne would be.

"It's only been a question of finding the right person," Aurelia said, "For both myself, my family and my nation. All the other suitors were incompatible with at least two out of the three. This way, I can serve all three in a way I couldn't before."

Aurelia was a dyed-in-the-wool patriot, probably the result of sitting at her grandfather's knee and hearing the stories of Keijiro. Not in the same way as Julie, the radical. She was more like Tam actually, having the same fanatical loyalty to family, albeit for very different reasons. "My country, right or wrong" defines her politics more than not. That was my read on her, at that moment. Time to get the big thing over with.

"So... I'll ask then," I said, "Aurelia Tiberia Valentina, for the sake of our two peoples, will you marry me?"

Aurelia gazed at me once more. "I shall," she said, "I do not know if we shall ever love each other, but you please me. Let's do great things together." So began yet another journey, I guess it is accurate to say.

"Let's," I said.

"Excellent!" declared Tiberius, "And you even asked yourself, Sam. I am pleased. We shall await the arrival of the entire fleet, and the end of your election, and then, you two shall be married by Father Edra just before we all depart for the Free Marches."

"Make way!" came a shout. The command had originated with the Templars.

Julie and Tam were making their way through the Tevinters. Like I had, they too were dressed for their practical duties. Julie in her British Army uniform, Tam in her usual black Qunari garb with her griffon badge of office. Worse, I saw Mariette poke her head around the doorway to watch, and knew at once that she had been the instigator of their arrival.

The room was deathly quiet as the two came into the centre of the ballroom. No one knew what their purpose in being there was, and I think some of those present suspect the Tevinters had deliberately chosen to find me at a time that Julie and Tam were not in my presence. They said as much to each other.

I watched as Tam stood next Aurelia, towering over her. Something I'm sure that Aurelia was not entirely comfortable with, having fought Qunari for years by this point. Albeit not too many of those she faced would have been female. To my great relief, Tam offered a hand, which broke the ice very cleanly.

"Tam Hunt," she said, completely without malice, "Warden-Commander in the Free Army."

Aurelia glanced at Tiberius, as if asking if this was okay. The magister shrugged, and smiling, gave a nod of encouragement.

"Aurelia Tiberia Valentina," she said at last, "How do you do?"

"Well," Tam replied, "Thank you." How civilised.

Julie stepped up now, fixing the firelance over her shoulder as she did so. "And I presume you know who I am?" she said as she offered her hand, in Common. Like that was even a question.

"Yes, I believe I do," Aurelia said, shaking the hand.

"Good," Julie replied, "You know that you're a very lucky woman, I pray?" A challenge of sorts. Very Orlesian.

Aurelia wasn't one to fail to rise to the challenge though. She was very Tevinter, after all.

"Luck?" she asked, "No, Marquise, this is fate. You know the story of my family. It is destiny that we are joined, nothing less." Unknowingly turning Julie's own belief against her. Ouch.

That blow appeared to soften things though. Again, common ground. "Perhaps it is," said Julie, "It seems you're stuck with us, for better or worse. I hope you intend to join with our people as best you can."

"You can count upon it, Marquise," Aurelia replied, "But for now, my business here is concluded. You have politics to attend to, do you not? I shall take my leave."

"There's no need for that," Julie said, "In fact, I would like you to join us for lunch, if that's possible?" What game she was attempting to play with this, I don't know. Maybe she was giving Aurelia a chance? Out of respect for the player.

"I have already eaten," Aurelia replied, "But thank you. I will sit and speak to … Sam in the coming days and weeks, to get to know him better. I would be happy for both of you to join us."

"We have a lot to discuss," Julie agreed, "Slavery for example."

"I'd be happy to," said Aurelia, not phased in the slightest.

She turned to leave, but paused, and turned to me one last time. "I can see you have a type," she joked, pointing between Julie and Tam. Both of whom are tall, well endowed women. A stark contrast to Aurelia's short and slender person.

"Not really," I replied, with perhaps too much haste. I did find Aurelia attractive, and I didn't want to give her any evidence to the contrary. The male's secondary brain working on my resolve, there.

"I'm not sure if I should be encouraged," Aurelia said as she parted, "Or if you're lying. Until next time."

She padded away, as panther-like as she had been when she arrived, the eagle brought along by her falconer behind her. When Mariette appeared in the doorway, Aurelia swept past her like she was a servant, not granting her a single glance despite the obvious interest the harlequin was showing the other way. Cool as Fonzie. Mariette promptly disappeared afterwards.

The rest of the family saw the departure of Aurelia as the cue to go too, and filed out of the room, after giving their goodbyes to me. That was a great relief. To both myself and to Barris, who looked about ready to explode at having the Tevinters in the presence of the the patients. They soon exited the ballroom.

Tiberius and Gaius remained behind. "You like her," the magister said, switching the conversation back to Orlesian once more.

"I like a lot of people," I dissembled.

"It's already happened," said Gaius, bemoaning the departure of his cousin, "She likes you. You like her It's only a matter of time now."

"Gaius, buddy, you need to get out more," I replied in Common, "The cousin thing, it's doomed." He at last seemed resigned to that, but was still depressed, hanging his head slightly. Poor bastard. You don't necessarily choose who you love, I know that better than anyone.

Julie sighed loudly. "Even I like her," she admitted.

"Really?" I asked.

"I don't," Tam said, throwing her two cents in.

"Really?" I repeated.

Julie had been the one to lay down the gauntlet, while Tam simply politely introduced herself.

"You both have funny ways of showing it," I said, rubbing my neck, "Another day, another wife."

"You do seem to be collecting them," McNulty said flatly, "Are her brothers single? I'm certain I want to find out."

I groaned, not wanting to think about McNulty flirting with Marcus and Quintus. That was radioactive, politically and socially. Tiberius didn't seem particularly pleased with the idea either, giving the General a rather displeased look over his nose.

"I'm not finding out for you," I said, "In the mean time, I'm going to go sleep for a thousand years. I feel like I've just run a marathon." Which I fully intended to do.

Julie and Tam followed me to bed, and that notion went away quickly as a result. The fatigue I had felt was false. We were newlyweds, when all was said and done.

* * *

 _AUTHOR'S NOTE: This chapter was also supposed to contain the election, but that's just too big a plot point to not have its own chapter and I think the points in this one probably are too._

 _So, we finally meet Aurelia, and her family, after dozens of chapters of foreshadowing. Far more of her to come, this was merely the taster._

 _This chapter had a lot of skirmishes between the female characters, and I hope that didn't come off badly..._

 _Internet cookie for all those who guessed that Isabela was on the way into this story. Two more for anyone who guessed that Hawke was, but I don't think anyone did._

 _Sorta disappointed we don't have any budding artists out there reading this. On that point, it seems some people took my 'modest contribution' suggestion to mean money. I meant sketches or prototype stuff, or even something entirely different to encourage me to commission, that sort of thing. I didn't exactly put up a crowdfunding link, so I'm still not sure exactly how people made that mistake, but I guess I can see how the wording made it seem that way. No, I don't want money. Not even sure that's legal. Thanks anyway._

 _Still looking for suggestions on fan artists I could commission from, incidentally._

 _In other news, Battlefield 2185 finally has its first chapter out, for those who are a fan of Mass Effect._

 _I hope you enjoyed this chapter!_

 _ **Transcendant:** I was pretty careful to make sure the politics of both Libertarians and Aequitarians didn't reflect any significant contemporary political movements. Hence why the Libertarians are hugely socially progressive but fiscally conservative and arguably militarist, while the Aequitarians are socially conservative (at least, from the perspective of the electorate) and are fiscally liberal statists. _

_Is Julie a neocon? I'm not sure. That term has been the subject of Terminology Tennis now since 2000, and I'm not entirely sure that it fits her beliefs._

 _ **Thepkrmgc:** Velarana isn't advocating for an official state religion, merely the granting of privileges to the Chantry that they typically enjoy. She isn't the one to cede governmental authority, she'll need every drop of it to get what she wants done._

 _But you're right, this is more or less an election to form what the Americans would call a Constitutional Convention and what the French would call a Constituent Assembly. The exact details about that are in the next chapter._

 _ **Katkiller-V:** The revelation was originally supposed to be much later, in fact. In the middle of the next volume. I felt that that piece of Julie's personality puzzle would feel less weighty at that point, rather than being dropped before the election. _

_Demobilisation isn't on Julie's ideal cards at all; most of the work that will need doing in the mean time is physical labour, which is what armies traditionally do quite well. She knows it's probably inevitable money-wise, though. She wants to maintain maximum readiness for an offensive war, is all. She better understands the strategic possibilities for victory on the offensive than Velarana does, who believes in defence in depth as a concept._

 _As for Julie being taken seriously as a head of state, she's married to a Marquis and now has brought Ferelden to its knees. And didn't execute the King, I might add. She is plenty diplomatic when she wants to be too; she negotiated the creation and politics of Free Orlais, after all. It's just that the times that Sam has directly been present, she's mostly been treating with nobles in the field who have absolute contempt for her and the movement. She responds accordingly._

 _Pretty much all of the DA2 character set will be involved at some point. More of Hawke and Isabela to come in the next chapter, by the way._

 _ **5 Coloured Walker:** It's not socialism if the person is a monarchist haha_

 _ **tmroc725:** Politicians promise things all the time. Reality usually ensues afterwards._

 _I'm still torn on Soprano. Maybe I should do a poll. I have an idea about how she could get her day, so to speak, but I'm still not sure it's a good idea._

 _As for support weapons like mortars, the answer is yes._

 _ **Twinbuster:** Merci._

 _ **Kefalion:** I'm a European too, so, I'm right there with you._

 _I'm glad you enjoyed it so far. I checked out your profile because your profile pic is sorta unusual for this site, and discovered you're an English major, so I feel like your praise is even more worthy of my thanks._

 _As for the Fade plot arc, it's actually quite important to tie everything together. It fits in with the political/military arc and the relationship arc in ways that... I can't reveal, because spoilers. And it also links everything to Inquisition's storyline too. I thought I'd get to that part far more quickly than I actually have. I've written something like 250k words more than I thought it would take, and we're still not there._

 _Hope this wasn't too long a wait, and I hope you enjoyed it._

 _ **Viper0300:** Hopefully you get this update right away!_

 _ **Fallnya:** All the foreshadowing that needed doing is pretty much done, so I'm not sure I can claim all that much credit for stopping with that._

 _Velarana having access to the Earth Library isn't exactly that big a disaster, I would think. After all, it also holds the keys to the destruction of the ideas that Velarana herself is defending. The most successful countries on Earth are generally not aristocratic oligarchies or absolute monarchies._

 _No need to worry about plot tangles, all plot elements are part of one of three threads and I generally remember them thanks to that fact. Usually only because of that, in truth._

 _ **Halo is bad ass:** The knowledge to make vehicles is in the Earth Library. Hell, the knowledge to crack crude oil into petroleum etc is in there. But those are industrial processes that aren't as easy to make as a cannon or a rocket. There's complexity that a community like Hearth couldn't possibly have made. This isn't the 1632 series, Sam came through alone with the knowledge and zero tools beyond some military equipment._

 _I'll say this though: expect to see radio soon._

 _ **:** Looks like your review got cut off, which is a pity, because it looks like it was going to be an indepth one, and I love reading those. Please repost the full one if you can, I'm very interested._

 _ **Titus Pullover:** First of all, awesome FF nickname. Top shelf._

 _Three cheers for Drgyen and his TV Tropes editing haha_

 _The electoral system is a simplified list system. You vote for the party, not the candidate, in each regiment. Split votes are then rounded up or down according to party support across the board as well as in-regiment proportions. The idea about it is that as they're voting for a Constituent Assembly and not merely a legislative parliament, they should vote for ideas not individuals. I think it fits the attitude of Orlesians generally too. Not sure yet if the Assembly will vote to keep that system in future._

 _Most of the Anglicisms in this are deliberate. For one, Sam is an anglophone by birth, and two, Orlesian French has always been very... franglais. I speak French as a second language myself, and I was keen to have Orlesians in the story for that reason among others._

 _It's important to remember that most of the time that you read dialogue in this, they're actually speaking in French despite it being written in English here. Or at least, speaking franglais. So when they talk about the names of the ships, the translation is held to be in English. Ship names don't have definitive terms in front of them. It isn't required to have 'the' in front of ship names in English, so I didn't include them for the most part. If I referred to a ship without 'la' when the dialogue is actually in French, do point me to it, because that is a mistake._

 _Likewise, Hearth is Atre in Orlesian. I originally chose that name because it works in both translations of the word, Atre sounding a lot like Acre (i.e. the Phoenician city). But in the end, I didn't end up using Atre to avoid confusion. I'm still a bit worried about Valhalla vs Troy, though the former refers to the valley that Troy will be in, rather than the city itself. Troy is another example of English translation; when they say Troy, they are saying Troie. And I'm well aware of the multiple possible versions in French, if only because I was annoyed to find out there wasn't one solid name for the city. I was tempted to call the city Ilium for that reason, but it's too Latin/Tevinter and it's shared by a planet in Mass Effect._

 _As for seasons; Thedas is in the southern hemisphere yes, but their calendar seems to be exactly the same as ours. August is still in summer, 'Wintersend' and the Thedas equivalent of Christmas are in the equivalent of February and November. For whatever reason, Bioware's writers made it this way, I just rolled with it. As for the calendar system, I've more or less assumed that the world uses an equivalent of the Gregorian calendar._

 _For future reference, I like answering these sorts of questions._

 _As for Troy itself, I have only have vague notions of what it'll look like. Mostly that there will be a government quarter, quays, and things of that nature. I have much more clear ideas on the physical geography, thankfully, as I tend to start with that when thinking about new settlements. Help bouncing off ideas would be great, but I won't have you spend time on actually mapping it out if you don't have that time to burn, though I appreciate the offer. Always good to have a professional to take advice from in such things._

 _Really glad you enjoyed it!_


	54. Chapter 54: Bouts and Ballots

**Chapter Fifty-Four: Ballots and Bouts**

Election Day.

The first free and fair elections in Thedosian history, in truth. The ones held for the Assembly of Free Orlais weren't conducted by secret ballot, but rather by public proclamation or indirectly. Julie and Ciara had first been elected by people getting up on a stage in the Chantry and speaking their vote, not by people making a mark next to their names on a piece of paper. Not this time.

Every person was to be issued with a single ballot paper according to regiment, with the names of the parties on them and boxes to check. It used almost all the remaining paper in the city, all of which we had requisitioned, more or less eliminating the possibility of fraudulent ballots by default. They would go with that paper to a polling station. We didn't have styluses or pencils to use, or not enough of them. Charcoal was too messy and could lead to disputes. We had plenty of ink though.

So, we took a security measure I had seen in Afghanistan and used that method for voting too: a voter would dip their thumb in permanent ink, and use their thumbprint to indicate who they were voting for. It's a method we've used right up to the present day, although it'll probably soon have to be abandoned due to advances in identifying people by their fingerprints. Back then there wasn't a hope at all of identifying who had voted for who, and it made sure that no one could vote twice if by some chance they had found or stolen another ballot.

The ballots were collected in glass jars; we had requisitioned many of those in the city too. A count centre was set up in the ballroom of the Keep, the wounded like Beauvilliers again moved to accommodate proceedings. Well, most of them, the sergeant himself was actually one of the count supervisors, a job I gave him as proof that he wouldn't be tossed aside due to his injuries.

I was the first person to vote, followed by Fisher and the rest of the High Command. Supposedly as a mark of respect and to free us all to look after the counting. But both Fisher and I had organised everything in advance, leaving us entirely free for the day as our lieutenants did the heavy lifting. The Generals and Ship-Captains were similarly without work for the day. Julie, Leha and Velarana were the exceptions, visiting the polling places in rotation. Shaking hands and kissing babies, and there was an increasing number of the latter.

As the votes began to pour in, escorted by details from the Guard and the naval regiments, the counting began. It was a still, sunny day. A perfect day to sit down and relax, while we waited for the inevitable to happen. So that's what I did.

* * *

It was a perfect day for drilling, according to Mike's thinking.

She had her pike and crossbow troops out running through their formations in the late morning, after they voted. By mid-afternoon, as the jars of ballots kept arriving, Soprano's Rangers and McNulty's Grenadiers were in on the act too, marching up and down the outer avenues by the castle in close order, practising their by-the-ranks drill with dry firing and fire-and-movement. In the courtyard of the castle itself, they did bayonet drills against stuffed grain sacks with old armour hanging from them, seeking out the weak points as they charged.

I took to watching them, as did my other available companions, dragging chairs out from the entrance hall to watch. It wasn't like we could influence the election at this point. The silver-headed eagle looked on from the top of a crenellation, cleaning its feathers occasionally. The golden eagle didn't seem to be anywhere, but knowing it followed Julie around in particular, it was probably watching her. The silver headed one did the same for Tam.

Soon, everyone of rank without any real responsibilities had the same idea we did. Andras appeared first, pointedly pushing her chair to sit beside me.

"Marquis," she said, as she sat down between Armen and I, "Warden-Commander."

"Warden-Commander," Tam repeated, seemingly pleased that she was there, "Any word from Weisshaupt yet?"

"None," Andras said, "But birds can get turned around in winter."

"Or they're still considering how to respond," said Armen, leaning back and looking up at the sky, "It's been a month, hasn't it?"

"It has," Andras conceded, "But if they were going to roundly condemn all of us, they would have sent word without delay. The lack of reply says that they are not sure what they think yet. That's better than an outright declaration of restraint."

"And it's worse than them being friendly," Ciara said, turning a small purple wildflower around in her fingers.

"The Fifth Blight was not even ten years ago," Tam shrugged, "They're used to attention being paid to them when it comes to these decisions."

"Orlais did increase its tithes during and after," Andras agreed, "At least, until the civil war."

I gave a single laugh, the Grey Wardens' own troubles eclipsed by our own exile as a result of the brewing civil war. "I'm confident First Warden will want our weapons in trade," I said, "Rather than his enforcers being shot to death with them."

"The First Warden isn't exactly known for being so gracious," Andras warned, "But he is not a king, and he knows it. He will likely defer to the representatives from each of the national orders."

"Does Ferelden have such a representative?" Armen asked, "Who is it?"

"In theory, it's Daylen Amell," Andras replied, "But he's missing. In practice, I have an old friend there, I sent him a message too."

How the Grey Wardens functioned as a military organisation, I did not understand. For a group with the legal right to take almost anything or anyone into service at the drop of the hat in almost every country on Thedas, they sure had an unnecessarily nebulous organisation structure. And Weisshaupt, a castle in the middle of a Blight-created desert? How the hell was that any place for a headquarters of such an important organisation? You'd think Orzammar would have been the place for it, given the central location and the ready access to the Deep Roads there.

I was pondering these matters for a while, when both de Villars cousins arrived. Both in armour and armed as they preferred, both masked. For Louise, her skull mask, plumed helmet, brightly shining steel cuirass longsword and sabre. For Mariette, her blue and grey harlequin mask and light leather armour with cloth coverings in the same colours. Both spotted the line of chairs and our fine selves sitting in them, and wandered over.

"Ah, Marquis," Louise said, "I was wondering where you were. I thought you would be watching the count in the ballroom?"

"Nothing for me to do there," I replied, "I trust our people and the Grand-Cleric is in there keeping watch anyway."

"Getting away from her?" Mariette asked in jest, "I'm not sure I blame you."

"After the scare she gave me the night before last, absolutely," I said.

Tam leaned across, putting her head on my shoulder, poking me slightly with her horn. "It was worth the scare," she said, "I think."

"Hmm, I'm not sure," I joked, gathering my arms around her, "We'll see."

Tam broke through my arms, pretending to not be amused by it but largely failing. Mariette audibly sighed at our visible affection for one another, turning her eyes to the drills that the troops were undergoing.

"Well, you should know that we are comfortably ahead for the moment," Louise said, ignoring her cousin's fit of pique, "The first ten regiments are reporting heavily in our favour."

"Of course they are," I yawned, stretching in my seat, "The first ten regiments are all Hearthlanders, the original part of the Free Army. They're all far too loyal to vote against Julie. They represent less than 30% of the votes. Let's not get too excited."

"Yet it is a reason to hope for victory," Louise countered politely, "I have nothing but disdain for Madame Velarana's political cowardice. I would never have thought someone so gallant on the battlefield could be so meek in the Game."

"She's feigning weakness, because she knows her position is a lot stronger than most people openly admit," I replied, "She read Sun Tzu and now thinks herself a master of strategy. Who knows, maybe she is. But she isn't actually meek at all, it's a political move on her part."

"Whereas Julie is projecting nothing but strength," Armen added, "Does that mean we are weak in reality?"

"We're going to find out," I said.

The clank-clank of armour sounded from the side, announcing the entrance of Ser Barris into the courtyard. He made a bead straight for me, stopping and saluting before deeming it respectful to speak.

"Marquis, some of the Tevinters are asking to come out into the courtyard," he said, "They wish to view the Army drills for themselves."

We all exchanged glances, wondering about the motives behind that. Cabin fever, I thought. They weren't allowed out of the castle except to go to their ships, although their crews were allowed to move freely.

"Is it wise to let them?" Andras asked aloud, "Are your techniques not a secret?"

I snorted, amused that she was concerned about that. "You're here, aren't you?" I said, "Until you start delivering silverite and everything else you promised to our new city, technically I shouldn't be letting you see any of this either."

"Ah, but you trust me," the elven Warden smiled, "Admit it."

"Never," I said flatly, "It would compromise my position of 'give me the damn silverite', wouldn't it?" Andras didn't believe it for a second.

Barris coughed gently, to get our attention once more. "What do I tell the Tevinters, Marquis?" he asked, "Shall I remove them to the north wing?"

Ahh Barris, always over eager to put the Vints in their place. Not the only one by any means.

"No, let them come," I said, "We're supposed to be allies, we need to start acting like it. I'll inform them of the consequences of abusing magic myself. And you don't need to worry, those consequences as dire as can be." The implication being I'd be perfectly happy to let his boys and girls loose should bad things begin to inexplicably happen.

"Yes, Marquis," Barris smiled, "Thank you."

"No need for that," I waved, "Bring them on out."

The Templar saluted again in acknowledgement, and paced away until he disappeared through the main gate. I saw Armen watch him go out of the corner of my eye.

"Should have told him to bring us wine while he was up," Armen smirked, "Warm us up."

I shrugged. It wasn't that cold. A forty degree day in December, a rare thing.

"He's Knight-Commander," I said, "Not our serving girl."

"I can get it if you like," Ciara offered, "I was a serving girl, remember?"

"I remember," Armen said, "But your serving girl days are over."

"So you don't want the wine?" Ciara asked, bemused at his position.

"Not if you're the one getting it," the mage explained, "But the idea of a Templar fetching it for me..."

"I can see the appeal of that," Andras said, laying her staff across her lap, "And I think Knight-Commander Barris is earnest enough not to take it as the insult it is."

"Exactly why I forbid it," I said, "Exploiting his good nature for your kicks, very naughty."

"Perhaps some wine would be good," Tam threw out, "Not being in the counting room, I'd like to know what the results are as they come in."

"Watching the results never does any good," I insisted, "You get riled up for nothing, like the outcome could change simply by watching it unfold. All I can say is thank God the Maker we do not have television."

"I want to know if I've been elected," Ciara pouted.

Both Louise and I laughed. We had made extensive arrangements about that very topic.

"Oh, my little she-elf, you have been," Louise said kindly, "Both you and I will be elected on the Libertarian ticket for the Guards Regiment, and at least one other seat will be won by the Lucrosian candidates. Hopefully two."

"How do you know?" Ciara asked, curious.

"Simple," Louise replied, "I ordered my retainers and my allies to vote as such. They could disobey me, of course, they vote in secret. But they know my purpose, and they agree with it. A broad Libertarian-Lucrosian coalition to rule over our new city is best. I fear Lady Velarana will make a mockery of nobility, where the Marquise will keep it in its purest form; military nobility."

Three cheers for feudalism.

"It was part of our dastardly plan, Ciara," I added, "To make sure you were elected without trouble. You tend to bring a refreshing honesty to any conversation that I think the Assembly will need. Everyone appreciated you in the last one."

"That's because I'll be the youngest member," Ciara said flatly, "Again."

"Actually, I think Fisher's granddaughter is running," Armen said, his nose twitching as he thought, "And she's maybe a year younger than you."

Sixteen was the voting age, after all, and apparently no one thought to put a limit on the age of candidates, so everyone simply assumed they were the same.

"Look on the bright side," Mariette said, "You'll be able to get those gardens you're always talking about."

Ciara, Tam, Armen and I all turned to look at the harlequin in surprise. It was no secret that Ciara was an avid gardener, something she hadn't been able to indulge in since our departure, but the idea of publicly owned gardens for both enjoyment and the growing of important medicinal herbs wasn't one she had gone around shouting about yet. We had bigger fish to fry, and her concept was very cheap compared to the proposals for the Army that Julie had or the proposals for social programmes which Velarana was pushing for.

Mariette demonstrating her information gathering ability was definitely worthy of comment, but the Tevinters arrived, preventing me from giving any. Louise let out a gasp as she saw it.

It wasn't all of them either, I thanked my lucky stars. Tiberius, Aurelia, Marcus, Quintus and Gaius. I suppose technically they were all Tiberius except for Aurelia, but I can't think of the patriarch of the dynasty as 'Titus' simply because it pushes me towards thinking of something else entirely.

They all had their staves and swords, and were dressed in the jungle-pattern armour from before, their helmets tucked under their arms. Aurelia's shock of curly black hair was unrestrained by any braids or ties, and it fell across one side of her face. The Tevinters' eyes watched the drilling, or what little of it continued as the majority of the troops began to notice the newcomers.

To the usual increase in my levels of mental fatigue, Tiberius made straight for me. "Ah, Sam, just who I was..." he began, with a smile on his face.

A loud clearing of the throat interrupted him. It had been Aurelia, of all people. The magister stopped dead, and closed his mouth shut with a snap. Wow, I thought. She had _Tiberius_ on a leash. How?

She stepped ahead of him, like an owner taking her dog for a walk and insisting on the dominant position by walking in front. "Marquis," she said, "Apologies for the intrusion, but we saw that there was training going on. This interests us, as soldiers of the Imperium. Would you be so kind as to allow us to observe? Or better yet, participate?"

Her overly polite, not overly familiar tone was entirely appropriate. Aurelia was definitely a true noble-born lady, and not one who had been one so long that she had become whimsical, like her grandfather was.

I stood up, and gestured for them all to approach. They did so, Aurelia leading the pack. They stood alongside the chairs, while everyone else rose from their seats. Including Andras, who entered my line of sight, reminding me of something relatively important.

"You two haven't met, have you?" I said to Aurelia, "This is Sidona Andras, Warden-Commander of Ferelden and Arlessa of Amaranthine Province."

Andras pulled her hood down, revealing her short fuzzy hair and long pointed ears. Looking to provoke some sort of response, no doubt. The Tevinter Grey Wardens are regarded as strange even among Grey Wardens, as they products of their nation as much as any particular group of Tevene people are.

Aurelia didn't give a single twitch of disapproval, another point in her favour, and inclined her head in greeting. "Lady Aurelia of Treverorum, Centurion of the Western Legions," she said, "Betrothed to the Marquis."

"Oh my, how well bred," Andras remarked, looking between Aurelia and I, "Come to spy out the new Orlesian way of war, have you?"

"Something like that," said Quintus from behind, balancing his staff across his shoulders and gripping it with both hands, "Though I've yet to see anything I have never seen before."

"Although their discipline is impressive," Marcus added in conciliation.

"That's because they're not doing firelance practice," Tam said, "And they could still defeat any similar number from your armies. Perhaps far more than a similar number. Of that I am certain."

Aurelia pursed her lips. Her golden eyes surveying the troops, whom the sergeants had returned to their drills, before they turned up to Tam's own violet ones. The eyes of someone who wished to make a challenge."And you know this due to your vast combat experience?" she said, "Our information says that you were a _tamassran_ , not a part of the _antaam_."

"I have watched these men and women triumph against the greatest military power of the South," Tam replied, "I have fought beside them. I've experienced enough."

"Yet they were defeated," Marcus said.

"By numbers," Aurelia said, coming to our defence all of a sudden, "I think we can sympathise with being outnumbered. Have any of us ever been on a campaign where we weren't facing at least two times our number?"

"No," Quintus replied, "We haven't." The way his cheeks curled as he spoke, my brother-in-law to be was not pleased to allow the point. But his sister powered through regardless.

"But that's no reason to respect their way of war," Aurelia continued, "Until we have a taste of it ourselves." She looked to me, as if to say 'provide a taste please'. Good God, it was hot.

"You'll see our firelances soon enough," I said, maintaining my composure with some difficulty, "And the Navy's gunners will also resume practice once the election process is over."

"You'll have to tell that story," Tiberius said, "How exactly did you obtain a set of Orlesian galleons?" He was trying to change the subject, probably knowing exactly how we did it. Not to mention having seen the Free Army in action himself, albeit during its last campaign as the Army of Free Orlais.

I appreciated his intent. "Fisher is the man to ask there," I said, "I can't take any real credit. He'll be happy to tell the story, I'm sure. It's his big contribution to our enterprise."

"Marquis, I must interrupt," Andras said, "I cannot ignore what I view as an insult."

I looked about for a second in confusion. "What insult?" I asked.

"Lady Aurelia has just impugned the honour of my fellow Warden," Andras said, "Not to mention the honour of your own Army."

"Our Army's honour can survive a little doubt," I replied, "Especially when the people doubting haven't seen it in action. Gaius, you have seen it, what's your opinion?"

Gaius winced, not wanting to cross the cousin he admired. Especially when the woman herself was looking right at him, as if inviting him to try and defy her. But Tiberius looked at him with utmost imperiousness too, urging him to tell the truth. Caught between the two, he sat on the fence.

"One to one, they certainly match us," he said at last, "They do not have the same number of mages as we do, but they make up for it with more advanced blackpowder weapons than the Qunari have." Of course, the more cannons and firelances we built, the more capable we would have been at kicking their asses too.

"You see?" I said to Andras, "The Army isn't insulted."

"And Warden-Commander Hunt?" Andras asked, deliberately using Tam's surname, "What of her honour?"

I turned to Tam, who hadn't looked away from Aurelia the whole time. Uh oh, I thought. "Your fellow Warden-Commander doesn't require me to defend her honour," I said carefully, "But I will do so if she expects it."

Tam finally turned to me, pushing silver-gold hair out of her eyes as it moved over her nose in the breeze. "That is hardly fair, Sam, I was the one she called into question," she said, "And you would win every time against these _saarebas_." I tilted my head, not so sure that was the case if I was barred from using my own firelances.

"No, I think I can defend myself," Tam finished, "Aurelia and I, one on one, as Gaius suggested."

"I didn't..." Gaius started.

Aurelia silenced him with a raised hand, her face completely placid. "You are challenging me to single combat?" she asked.

Tam's violet stare bored straight at my Tevinter fiancée. "Without hesitation," she said, "For the honour of the Wardens." Andras gave a single nod of complete agreement, stepping up beside her.

"I accept," Aurelia said, "Rules; no magic and no firelances? We both receive barriers from a third party?"

The bulk of the Benelli propped up against the side of chair Tam had been sitting in would have made things a little too interesting and deadly. I was relieved to hear that they wouldn't be killing each other, at least.

"Agreed," said Tam, "This courtyard, in an hour."

"Very well," said Aurelia smoothly, brandishing her sword-staff, "This _naginata_ has been aching for some action." The way she said it made it clear that it was she who had been aching.

A glance at me told all. Aurelia wanted _me_ to know what she was, to show it. It felt unnecessary, but then again, this was a woman who wanted me invested in our mutual relationship, whatever the real extent of it was going to be. Was she trying to impress me? Or was she trying to win over Tam by being direct? Either way, thanks to Andras' dislike for Tevinters, now had the chance to do so against Tam.

"Election Day entertainment," Armen said, with a clap of his hands, "Oh, goodie."

* * *

An hour was all it took for a number of other people to arrive to watch the duel of honour.

The drilling was stopped at once, and all those present cleared the middle of the courtyard, dragging boxes and tables to form a circle in which the duel would be fought. The entire High Command appeared from the various pieces of make-work or relaxation they were undertaking, including Paulie Walnuts, back from the Bay of Dolphins.

The rest of the Tevinters showed too, reserving themselves a corner of the arena with sheer menace, sitting on the boxes. The betting began almost as soon as the Army clandestine bookies gathered the nerve to start taking money in front of me, which was far more quickly than I would have liked. The pirates soon showed too, Admiral Isabela and Marian Hawke among them, Sigrun and Bethany dragged along with them.

I sent word to Julie immediately, of course, and she showed up in a fluster as Tam was donning her kevlar vest.

"What is going on?" Julie demanded, "Why are they going to fight?" Back to Orlesian, so most of the Tevinters couldn't understand even if they could hear over the betting.

"It was more or less a challenge," I said, not quite sure how we arrived at that point myself, "If you want to blame someone, blame her." I thumbed at Andras.

"The Tevinter witch insulted a Grey Warden's ability to fight," said Andras, "It was unacceptable." That was a mischaracterisation, but there was no backing down now.

"Then why aren't you fighting?" Julie said impatiently, "If you're so insulted."

Tam turned, having finished fiddling with the straps of the kevlar. "I am the one who is insulted," she said, "I will deal with it."

"You are most deadly at range, Tam," Julie pleaded, "Your bow, that shotgun... Look at the length of her blade, she can stab you to death without so much as moving."

"No danger of death," Armen said nonchalantly, "Their bodies and their weapons are going to be coated with a magical barrier. Their armour won't be. First one to break the body barrier wins the round, best out of three to win the match."

Julie seized the shotgun, which was still propped up against a chair, and pumped a buckshot shell into the firing position with a vigorous pull of the charging handle. She took hold of the grip, and said nothing more. Her intention was fairly obvious; if Tam got hurt, Aurelia was going to catch the entirety of what that 12 gauge could throw. I wasn't too worried about it. Tiberius had demonstrated the magic almost as soon as the duel had been agreed, without prompt, probably fearing a similar response from me.

Tam smiled at the display, knowing it meant that Julie was very worried. She leaned over and gave Julie a kiss on the cheek. Julie pushed forwards to give her a much more substantial kiss, before our Qunari... wife made her way into the middle of the makeshift arena to await Aurelia.

"What are her chances?" Julie asked those standing around us, "Do we know?"

"Middling odds," said Mariette de Villars.

"Why only middling?" Julie pressed.

Mariette looked to Louise to explain, and she did. "Lady Tam has great strength and a size advantage," she said, "But Lady Aurelia has a polearm and so has longer reach, as you pointed out. She's also considerably smaller, and so, harder to hit."

"She's also as fit as I am," Mariette added, "She can probably move as fast or faster than Tam." Mariette being a gymnast/assassin, naturally she knew what she was talking about there. I recalled her dodging an automatic firelance with a shiver of cold down my spine. There were times I forgot just how we met.

"Any word on the election?" Armen asked, eager to know the answer before things could begin.

"Voting is over," Julie said quickly, "We're ahead, but the counting is by the order of precedence in the regiments." Velarana was expected to bounce back later, as the oldest and most loyal regiments were higher in the order, but to the extent of her winning? No one could know for sure.

Aurelia stepped into the arena, squaring off with Tam. She shot a look my way, and a smile spread over her face, before she slotted her helmet on. The smile was replaced by the snarl of a monster, in green and black metal. It was appropriately feline, with false whiskers and long canines. Her golden irises peering out of the unarmoured section across her eyes, she bowed low to Tam, in the Japanese fashion, before standing up and taking her position, _naginata_ held at waist height towards her opponent.

The crowd went dead silent.

Tam drew her longsword with a soft hiss from the leather scabbard using her right hand. The same one that she had looted on our original journey to Hearth, which she had kept well maintained. She reached across her front to take her forward curved dagger into her left. A weapon designed, as you'd expect, to peel Tevinters out of their armour. In fact, it was designed specifically to deal with the armour introduced by Keijiro Okuba to the Western Legions, a piece of information that Gaius would give up in a drunken brag some years later.

A cry came from up in the sky, and everyone, the competitors included, looked up. The eagles were circling overhead. Golden, silver-headed and black. Another cry, louder this time.

Before anyone realised it, the fight had begun.

While the rest of us were standing around, Aurelia and Tam had taken it as the starting signal. By the time everyone noticed, Aurelia had leaped forward to deliver a blow. The naginata's blade aimed low, below where the kevlar ended and where in theory it would be harder for a tall person to parry.

It was no cheap shot though, and Tam was ready. She deftly parried the polearm's movement with her dagger and thrust her longsword forward, hoping to catch Aurelia's forward momentum.

It failed. Aurelia changed direction on a dime, first to the left and then backwards, swiping at Tam to dissuade a counterattack. The two parted and began circling each other.

The crowd went wild, cheering and shouting. The betting intensified. I crossed my arms, thinking that this wasn't going to be an easy fight, but that Tam could handle it. Julie was not of that opinion. Her hand snaked its way through my crossed arms and gripped the first of my own it could find, tightly. As the two combatants began trading blows and parries once again, feeling each other out, every near miss sent her hand twitching. I stroked the side of her hand with my thumb, knowing full well that any soothing words would not have been heard.

"Lady Tam has improved," Louise remarked.

Tam pressed a lucky advantage and managed to catch Aurelia's shoulder. The blow glanced off the armour, sending a shimmer around Aurelia's body as the magical barrier underneath reacted to the force of the attack. My Tevinter fiancée ducked under the second blow, pulling her weapon after her, and bounced away to swipe once more. Again, I was struck by the comparison I had made with a panther.

"She's a Grey Warden now," Andras stated, "She's faster and stronger than before."

"She was plenty strong and fast," Armen grinned, before turning towards the chevalier, "Perhaps you'd care to re-evaluate the odds?"

Aurelia twirled her _naginata_ in a double looping arc, almost catching Tam in the thigh and neck. Tam stumbled back, regaining her feet as soon as she was out of range, taking up a low guard.

"No, I don't think so," Louise replied, "Lady Tam's technique is not aggressive enough."

"She was trained in defensive methods for close up," I said, "She's an archer more than a brawler." Pretty much exactly the same as I was, in fact.

"Then she's going to lose," Mariette said, "The more I watch the Vint, the more I think she's playing not fighting. She could be much more aggressive with that big sword-stick of hers, but she's trying to close every gap in her own defence instead. That doesn't look like how Tevinter mage-soldiers are supposed to fight."

As if Tam had heard those words, impossible over the crowd's shouts, she pressed forwards to the attack.

Aurelia had just launched a tentative thrust, again towards Tam's lower quarter. Tam sidestepped it deftly, slapped it away with the flat of her longsword, and used her longer pace to rush her attacker. Aurelia hadn't expected it. Tam had used her dagger to parry until that point, and had managed to gain the element of surprise by switching the program. Tam wasn't the most aggressive hand-to-hand fighter, but she was among the most cunning. Deception is an inherent part of the way tamassrans fight, as they only do so when forced to defend themselves or their charges. Completely different to the way the Qunari soldiers fight as individuals.

There was no way Aurelia could block or dodge the attack. At least, not with her naginata. She dropped the polearm and drew her _gladius_ as quickly as she could, to try and meet the strike to come, but I could tell by the narrowing of her eyes that even she knew it wouldn't work.

Tam just barely made it, her dagger slashing across the meeting point of Aurelia's padded neckguard, the returning parry too late by a fraction of a second. It bit into the protection like the proverbial hot knife through butter, all of us standing in exactly the right place to see every detail.

The crowd gasped, expecting to see the red splatter arterial spray. Myself among them, such was the violence of the strike Tam had thrown. Certainly, such a blow should have resulted in that. Instead, the momentum of the blow ceased and Aurelia's entire body flashed bright blue for the space of a blink. Tam stood with her dagger extended out in confusion, as if paralysed.

"Round One to Lady Tam," Tiberius announced loudly but without emotion.

Julie's hand squeezed mine again, this time not in worry but in elation. The crowd made a suitable ruckus in celebration, the majority wanting Tam to win and chanting her name as the two fighters parted.

Tam made her way back to us, pleased as punch. Aurelia rejoined her parents and brothers after picking up her naginata, without any visible reaction except the result of physical exertion.

"Well done," I said, "She didn't think that could happen."

I got a nod in reply. "She is not the first to fall for that trick," Tam explained, "But she will not fall for it again."

"No, she won't," Louise agreed, "You must be more aggressive."

The pair stepped into the circle once again, the second round greeted by the crowd rowdily. Aurelia bowed again, while Tam gave a perfunctory Free Army salute, and both began the fight again without any cue, from either referees or eagles.

Tam pressed forwards at once, knocking aside Aurelia's naginata at every stroke of her blade, inching every closer to the Tevinter mage's person. Aurelia gave as much ground as she could, but the arena wasn't that small. She couldn't move to the sides either; Tam was advancing fast enough that it would have created an opening. Soon, Aurelia would be forced to go for her gladius once again, and Tam would have the round and the match both. This is over, I thought to myself. Tam slapped aside the naginata for what had to be the final time.

It was indeed over.

Aurelia suddenly ducked and spun aside, under the swordstroke aimed at her head. That she had the speed and instinct to pull that off without so much as losing her balance astonished me. With the pole section of her weapon, she aimed at her opponent's shins. Trapped by her own forward momentum, Tam tripped over and fell flat on her face.

The naginata spun in Aurelia's hands in a vertical arc, and the blade went up into a ready position and down to strike. Tam was caught just as she tried to roll away, and the blow came down onto her neck; almost exactly where she had hit Aurelia in the first round. I still wasn't used to seeing the combatants go at each other full tilt, and fully expected Tam's head to be sliced clean off her body, but instead, the telltale blue flash of the barrier signalled the end of the match.

The crowd were struck dumb by the display. So were we. Julie nearly squeezed my hand into a pulp. Aurelia stood up once again, and bowed to Tam, who lay panting on the cobblestones, rubbing her neck and half expecting to find blood there.

"Second Round to Lady Aurelia!" Tiberius proclaimed proudly.

Unable to deny the skill and speed of the victory, the crowd clapped loudly and whistled, saluting the victor despite her status as an evil Tevinter witch. Tam picked herself up off the ground and joined in, as Aurelia paced back to her family, whom looked as proud of her as could be. Tiberius most of all. He made sure I saw it too. As if saying 'take a look at what you're gaining by our arrangement for yourself'. It was far more persuasive than his 'call me father' shtick, I'll say that much.

Tam herself didn't return to us, brushing some dust off of herself and moving to the middle of the arena. Eager to begin the next round. She paid attention to only one thing; Aurelia.

"Maker, she is fast," Mariette gasped, able to speak at last.

"Faster than you, cousin?" Louise asked.

"I don't know," Mariette replied, "I would have to fight her to be sure." To become a harlequin, a military-bard, required exceptional reflexes and speed.

"Maybe you'll get the chance," Ciara replied cheerily, "I know I want to try."

"You're pretty fast too," said Mariette, cheered up by the she-elf's attitude, "This Tevinter magic certainly makes testing each other to the limits possible."

"You're on," said Ciara. The two, content with the promise, shook hands as they leaned across the front of Julie and I. Mariette a little too close to me for comfort. I half groaned, wishing she'd realise I had far too much on my plate already. But that would be asking the impossible.

There was a commotion behind us, and who else but Velarana appeared from it, with Fisher and Markham in tow no less. All in their furs. I guess the wind had picked up outside of the courtyard again. The three of them looked like the Three Bears from the story of Goldilocks, they were dressed so well for winter.

"What is this?" the Aequitarian asked.

Julie turned, finally realising the fighting wouldn't begin immediately and just who it was that had spoken. Velarana tilted her head. "Well?"

Andras began to explain. "The Tevinter witch insulted Warden-Commander Hunt, so..."

Velarana interrupted her by waving off the explanation forthwith. "I don't care how it started," she said, "But is it appropriate, considering we have far more important things to be doing? The counting hasn't been suspended for _this,_ has it?"

"It hasn't," Julie replied, "We'll know which of us will be High Chancellor in a few hours." The counters were indeed hard at work... a situation they tolerated because they had people running between the ballroom and the courtyard, allowing the counters to bet on the fight and updating them on the developments.

"I still think this is inappropriate," Velarana said, as Aurelia donned her helmet and faceplate once more.

"Everyone is worried about the election," Julie replied, "As much as I'd prefer that it wasn't Tam in there, this is as good a distraction from the gravity of it all as we can get."

Aurelia did her bow, and Tam her salute. The fight looked just about to start again when a sharp whistle sounded from the Tevinter cluster. Marcus waved and slapped the side of his scabbard. At first, I thought it was a sign for good luck or something. Until Aurelia threw her naginata to the side, Quintus catching it by the handle before it landed, and she drew her gladius.

Tam, sure now that she couldn't be tripped up, went on the attack again. Leaving her dagger in its place, she charged straight at Aurelia, planning to use the greater length and weight of her longsword to win. My heart pounded, sure that she had it as the sword reached out.

Aurelia failed to completely dodge the attack, the blade biting into her side of her segmented armour as she parried and sidestepped. The entire top-right side was torn off, as the leather straps holding it were cut along with the top segment. But the barrier failed to flash. Her skin hadn't been touched. She swung her gladius to dissuade a second strike by Tam, catching her own longsword at the handguard but doing no harm to Tam herself.

Again and again, Tam swung and stabbed. Again and again, the gladius just barely got in the way in time to save Aurelia from the blade. To my eye, Tam appeared to have every advantage now that Aurelia's reach had been shortened. Still, the speed and reflexes required to last against such an onslaught was incredible. I whistled long and low, thoroughly impressed.

"How the hell is she still standing?" I said, loudly enough so I could be heard over the crowd. I had been talking about Aurelia, but the experts seemed to think I was talking about Tam.

"It won't be long now," Mariette said, "She'll make a mistake and the Vint will exploit it. Or Lady Tam will get lucky, but I don't think it's likely."

I turned my head to her quickly, not having expected that response.

"What?" Julie asked, "Tam is hammering her like a piece of metal."

Louise shook her head. "She is, but notice that the witch has not moved more than two paces from where she began," she said, "She is maintaining her defence. Desperately, but maintaining nonetheless."

Julie frowned, her green eyes following the action. Her frown deepened once she confirmed that Tam was more or less moving around Aurelia, who was almost stationary. Worse, it seemed that Tam's blows were becoming heavier, not from fatigue but from frustration. She was putting more force into each attack, but she was also telegraphing the shots more and more too, allowing Aurelia more time to move and parry.

"She really is a Qunari-fighter," I mused aloud, "Knows their temper is short, and that patience is the best way." It was certainly true of the two Qunari I had more than a passing acquaintance with so far. Tam and Asala both had tempers, that they worked to control with great success, but patience was definitely the way forward for both.

"If Tam had her bow, this would be a different fight," Julie insisted, "Never mind a firelance."

"This way of war is now... obsolete," Armen agreed.

"Can't exactly go shooting with a crowd around, though," Ciara said, pointing to the ring of cheering soldiers.

Aurelia proved my point. Tam finally telegraphed her next move by bringing her sword above her head, to strike with a blow that most definitely would have ended the round. It was very unlikely to miss, given the angle and likely speed it would come at. It was also the very moment Aurelia had been waiting for.

My fiancée leaped forward on the ball of her right foot, and thrusted her gladius forward, her arm extended as far as possible. It caught Tam at the waist, between the join of her Kevlar and her breeches, close to her left hip. Whether or not that would have been a crippling blow in a real fight, I'm not sure. It looked more like a glancing blow to me. But that didn't matter. Tam's magical barrier flashed, Aurelia's momentum was robbed by the magic, and the round was over.

Victory to Aurelia.

Tam stood in complete shock, clearly unable to believe that her opponent could have covered that distance in the time required. Julie broke forwards, not able to resist, the shotgun still in her hands. I followed quickly afterwards, having a similar feeling of wanting to comfort Tam, but also to congratulate Aurelia on the display. She had proven herself a fighter, if nothing else.

The crowd began a great chatter, as the winners of bets demanded their money from the losers. I even spotted Leha beside Admiral Isabela, no doubt either there to collect money or to try and talk her way out of paying.

"Are you okay?" Julie asked Tam.

"I am," Tam insisted, breathing heavily and keeping watch on her opponent. I put an arm around her and squeezed her shoulder. She had done well, but had been outclassed.

Aurelia tore off her faceplate and helmet, a tumble of curly black hair falling over her face before she controlled it. She bowed for the last time, panting all the while she did so. And smiling. Tiberius and her brothers came up, the former giving her a pat on the back while her brothers gave her a hug each. Once she was done with that,

"Thank you, Warden-Commander," she said, "I have not fought with one of your skill for some time. The antaam does not fight like that. You brought unexpected variables to the fight."

"You are fast," Tam replied, seeing no reason to say much more, "Too fast."

"I know," Aurelia laughed.

Julie narrowed her eyes. "You're lucky you didn't do any harm," she said.

"I'm lucky she did not harm me," Aurelia retorted as politely as possible, poking fingers through the giant gash in her armour, "But the magic we use on both our bodies and weapons assures complete protection. As you saw. Besides, I would never do anything to harm either of you."

Julie's gaze widened again, her head jerking back slightly in surprise. "Why not?" she said, "We are rivals for the affections of the same man, are we not?"

Aurelia shook her head. "You seem able to share," she said, gesturing to Tam, "Aside from that, Sam insisted on our children being raised together. I originally insisted otherwise, but he was quite certain about it. This means we must get along. And I find your worrying about the Warden-Commander quite endearing. A good start, I think."

Julie's face wobbled between emotions for a second, before settling on amused defiance. She put her hands on her hips and raised her chin. "Who said I want children?" she declared.

Aurelia looked up at her, laughter bubbling out of her. "I suppose no one did," she giggled, "But unless you enjoy celibacy, do you have a choice? Perhaps you'll become a Chantry sister?" Aurelia of course not being aware of Earth technologies in that area. Not that we could recreate them any time soon, I thought.

Still, the subject had me coughing and looking away. It wasn't like I was saying no to bedding them all, after all. The effect seemed to relieve Tam's feeling of defeat. She grabbed my hand and planted a kiss on the back of it, but then, she was the one who didn't have a problem with that sort of thing.

Julie's cheeks puffed up, before her facade cracked and she snorted once, finding the whole situation a little funny herself. The chances of her becoming a Chantry sister were about the same as the chances of the Qunari surrendering to Tevinter and becoming obedient slaves.

"It seems your honour is satisfied, Lady Tam," said Tiberius, "And we all enjoyed the display of your martial prowess."

"A little too much," said Julie, looking around at the crowd, "We should probably get back inside. Hopefully the mood can be kept"

"To claim victory, Marquise?" said Tiberius.

"Of course," Julie smiled.

There was a commotion to the side that drew our attention. Isabela was waving her arms, her tricorne hat in hand, trying to get the attention of the crowd. She succeeded, but then, it isn't hard to get attention when you're a busty Rivaini pirate wearing gold and blue thread. She drew alongside us. Leha appeared beside her, a large purse in her hands and a big shiteating grin on her face. Of course she had bet against Tam. I rolled my eyes.

"Is that it?" Isabela asked loudly in Common, loud enough for everyone to hear, "One match? And I thought I was supposed to be the tease."

"You are!" came a shout from the crowd, the voice recognisable to me as Marian Hawke's own. Isabela waved her fingers at her lover jokingly in return. The crowd laughed, although as the conversation was in Common, it took some people a little while to catch up.

"I say we keep this action going," the pirate admiral continued, "We have many brave warriors here, we have time to burn, let's see who can best who! Assuming that the magic... thing to stop people dying can be kept up?"

We all turned to Tiberius in expectation. No one had any objection to further entertainment, although my companions and I likely couldn't be present for the rest of it.

The old magister's eyes glistened, as they always did when he smelled an opportunity for a gain of some sort.

"Only if you permit my grandsons to participate," Tiberius replied, "With weapons only, of course."

The pirate admiral gave the magister a slap on the side of the arm, and laughed.

"Great!" Isabela said, "Maybe I'll get to win my money back after all!"

"No chance," Leha replied.

* * *

The counting and combat contests continued side-by-side for hours, well after the winter sun had gone down in the sky and veilfire from the mages' staves lit up the courtyard and ballroom both. The reports of electoral and gladiatorial victories arrived together.

Hawke Senior was killing it out there, if the number of her victories was any indicator. She even beat Marcus, which must have been quite a sight. Unfortunately, we would have to wait to see Marian in action personally, as there was absolutely no way that we could tear ourselves away from the count by the time that news arrived.

Why? As the vote was a lot closer than we had thought it would be.

The Libertarians and Aequitarians were more or less equal in seats, leaving the Lucrosians to tip the balance to Julie's favour. It looked like she would just scrape through to victory. The last regiments being counted were all civilian save for two of them, and so were true enigmas as to how they'd vote. Opinion polling wasn't a thing.

The ballroom was more or less packed. Ten large tables for counting each regiments' votes. Stacks of glass jars, empty to one side, a few full of ballots beside the tables. Observers to make sure there weren't people cheating in any way, from all of the fraternities. The candidates themselves, most of them, milled about at the end. Some of them already elected, others waiting to see if they would be. Ciara and Louise had already been elected in the first count, as expected.

I watched this from the doorway, with Julie and Velarana beside me.

And, for some reason, Aurelia, whom had tagged along. Tam had remained outside at my request to provide some semblance of supervision to the fights, and the other Tevinters had too. Aurelia had come along, after stripping off her armour and retaining the underclothes. It was some time before she raised her voice to explain why.

"I have to admit," Aurelia began, pausing a moment to consider her choice of words, "When I heard that you allow every one of your citizens to choose your leaders, I was astonished. Uncle Keijiro explained the existence of such a thing on Earth to us, but did not seem complimentary about it." I guessed she hadn't quite believed that it was on the up. Maybe she thought we were putting on a show for the plebs, until she saw the meticulous attention paid to the whole process.

"Uncle Keijiro came from the Japanese Empire," I replied with a smirk, "Which my great-granddaddy's generation chased out of the Pacific and nuked. Keijiro probably wasn't aware of it, but democracy kicked his empire's ass. A lesson for all empires, I think." Then there's the question of what happens when a democracy becomes an empire... but that's a question for later. Roma Victor.

Aurelia's interest was peaked. "Nuked?" An unfamiliar word for her, to be sure. I reminded myself to show her the picture of a nuclear test from my library.

"A weapon capable of destroying a city or even a province in a single blow," Velarana explained, "And which if used by the hundreds could destroy civilisation for centuries, due to the sheer power of the explosions they cause."

She had been doing her research, I noted.

"Something like that," I agreed.

"And these weapons are not magical?" Aurelia asked, "I know of no magic that could achieve the same thing." Because it more or less doesn't exist.

"The age of magic is coming to an end," Julie thought aloud, "And the age of science is beginning."

"Indeed," Velarana added, "And the irony is that magical assistance will speed science along. I have already identified areas in which we can progress rapidly, as I'm sure you have." Julie hummed her agreement, but didn't vocalise it more coherently than that.

If Fen'Harel could have heard them, I'm sure he would have had a terse chuckle to offer in reply.

"We shall see," Aurelia said, "Once I fulfil my duty." She had said it like it was going to be lots of fun. Which I suppose it was, but still, joking about it seemed oddly inappropriate to me.

I sighed. "I forgot about that," I said, "That our kids will be walking nukes. All of them." I thought about how Tam would react to that, but then kicked myself. There was no way she would do anything other than love them to pieces, albeit tough love a lot of the time, magic or no magic.

"So will I," Aurelia smiled, "If a nuke is indeed a powerful weapon."

"Don't get too excited," Julie said flatly, "I doubt you'll be bulletproof." Magical barriers seeming to be quite vulnerable to lead bullets, for one reason or another. More so than arrows.

"I'm sure we can test it," Aurelia replied, before changing tack, "It seems that the last votes are being counted."

The last few jars full of votes had indeed been opened, their cloth covers with the regiment numbers on them removed and the paper inside spilled out onto the tables. The counters were quick at their jobs by this stage, and it wouldn't take very long for the results to be determined.

"Marquise, it looks like we have come to the moment of truth," Velarana said, holding out her hand, "May the best woman win."

Julie shook her opponent's hand. "Good luck," she said, "Hopefully, you'll need it."

Velarana allowed herself a smile, before marching off to join the throng of her supporters and Assembly members at the end of the ballroom, passing by the counting tables. She drew attention as she moved, for the obvious reason that she could have been our next leader. No one knew. I grit my teeth, annoyed that it wasn't clear cut. The tension was getting to me.

"This could never work in Tevinter," Aurelia said, out of the blue, "Even if it was just we mages who voted, it would all be subverted in minutes."

"Which is why Tevinter is a rotten wall waiting to be kicked down," Julie replied harshly, before softening, "But unfortunately for all of us, it is the Qunari doing the kicking."

Aurelia regarded Julie with an interested expression, the side of her lips curling slightly in thought. "It is not usual for a Southerner to appreciate the dangers of the Qun so acutely," she said, "How interesting..."

"Tam has enlightened me," Julie said, finally deigning to look at Aurelia, "It is a tyranny, where people cannot even have families of their own, against all natural law. I intend to destroy it. Although it will likely take decades." Especially as the Qunari were the one realm that could catch up to the level of military technology we possessed at that point within months, if they really put their mind to it and started capturing our people.

"And what of Tevinter?" Aurelia asked playfully, "Will you destroy us too?"

"Only if I have to," Julie smiled, "I think you'll destroy yourselves first."

Aurelia's playfulness cut out, and she looked down at the floor for a split second.

"Unfortunately, you are probably correct," she said, "The corruption in the Imperium is intolerable, and has been for centuries. The Qunari are responsible, in fact. The endless war has provided every excuse to destroy dissent. Yet the Magisterium will not authorise a push to destroy the Qun, to attack Par Vollen or rally the South to our side. Or even to invade the South and use its resources and manpower to win. They _want_ the war to continue. If it keeps up, we may lose, despite the best efforts of my family. And then Tevinter, the oldest and greatest civilisation in Thedas, will die, and the South will be next."

I think Julie was the most surprised to hear that, after a lifetime of hearing of Tevinter's power. We stood in silence for a long while after that, contemplating the necessities of what fighting the Qun and what the actual result would be if the Tevinter Imperium did fall. That's the problem with empires; no matter how bad they are, often their collapse causes even more suffering. Best not to start them at all, really. Not that either Aurelia or Julie agrees with me on that.

To wake us up, Grand-Cleric Brandon rang a bell to get everyone's attention in the centre of the ballroom. "Ladies and gentlemen, we have the results," she said.

 _Aequitarians – 76_

 _Libertarians – 73_

 _Lucrosians – 9_

 _Jaderites – 7_

I did some quick math, and my blood ran cold. It wasn't enough. I began to worry about Julie's reaction, but she seemed as calm as a pool of water. Unlike the candidates and counting personnel, who couldn't have imagined such an outcome.

"Eighty two," I said in Orlesian, "But you need eighty-three to..."

"I know," Julie replied, "But there are still the Jaderites. We can negotiate with them, but so can the Aequitarians. The contest isn't over yet." She began looking around for Fisher, as if to resume said contest with the fullest enthusiasm. What the hell Fisher would want for his support, and that of his daughter whom was the Jaderite leader, I had no clue.

"What is happening?" Aurelia asked.

"Julie's fraternity did not win enough seats to declare victory outright," I said, "She'll have to negotiate with a smaller fraternity to be declared High Chancellor, and it's not certain that fraternity will choose her over the opposition."

My fiancée cocked an eyebrow. "Perhaps your system is not so good as you think," she said, "Such a thing would not happen in..."

"In Tevinter," I said, completing her sentence, "You're not in Tevinter any more."

Aurelia scowled up at me with the same intensity she had shown to putting down her own grandfather the day before. It was indeed something to be feared, that evil eye. However, an idea entered her mind, and she peered from under her long eyelashes suggestively. "The reports were not lying about your … spine," she said, "Tell me, why don't you take power instead? You have the Army behind you, I am certain of it. You could end this farce in minutes. You even have the perfect excuse; the people are divided and require leadership."

The way she said it told me that she half-expected me to do so, and that it would raise my stock in her books to the stratosphere. I was well used to that sort of proposal by now, though. I even caught Julie grinning madly in my peripheral vision, knowing full well what my answer would be.

"I'm a soldier," I said, "And I have studied history and politics to an extent to know that I wouldn't be good at the job of being the man with the final word on absolutely everything. It would be boring, for one, and I don't know enough about how things work here. I prefer just to keep on soldiering."

"The simple soldier," Julie cut in, speaking to Aurelia, "No matter what I say or do, he continues to insist on this. I have absolute confidence in his ability to rule, and so does everyone else. Everyone except he himself."

"Perhaps I can change that," Aurelia replied, casting her evil eye on me once more, "It will not do for you to underestimate yourself, Sam Hunt. It will not do at all."

"You can try," I said, "But I have every reason to resist... In fact, I need to speak to your grandfather about those reasons." If someone knew anything about sentient Fade spirits, I was hoping it would be Tiberius.

"Oh?" Aurelia said, "Why is that?"

"Later," Julie interrupted, "It looks like Brandon is not finished."

The Grand-Cleric was indeed calling for quiet once again, and having trouble getting it. The ramifications of the split results were of great interest to all concerned, and eventually, she got Barris to slap his sword on his tower shield until it rang like a bell. That finally got everyone to shut up and listen.

"No irregularities have been reported, and the results are final," said Brandon, "We will adjourn for the night, and come back in the morning to..."

"Hold!" came Velarana's voice. The woman herself emerged from the collection of Aequitarian members of the new Assembly, and made straight for the cleric. Brandon hissed a general admonition for the act.

"I'm sorry, Grand-Cleric," Velarana continued, "But as the leader of the largest fraternity of the Assembly, I demand an immediate vote by fraternity on the position of High Chancellor!"

Mumbles of disbelief echoed through the Libertarian contingent. An immediate vote meant no negotiations. A straight vote on who was best for the job, or so we thought. It was quite a move, that left me shaking my head. It was getting late.

"Fraternity leaders, to me!" said Brandon loudly, "Marquis, you too. Now." The murmurs became a waterfall of conversations.

Julie went forward at once, her face as neutral as she could make it. Leha pushed and cajoled her way through the crowd, a big bag of coin in her hand. Stereotypes much? Fisher Junior also went over, a stocky woman with brown hair in her late thirties and very much a chip off the old block, while her father-the-admiral looked on from the side.

"I better get over there," I said to Aurelia.

My Tevinter bride pursed her lips. "Go then," she replied, "Go save them from themselves." A very Aurelia thing to say, I would discover.

I did as I was told, and arrived to the huddle of our political leadership.

"Now that you're all here..." said Brandon, "Lady Velarana, we should wait until the morning at the very earliest to vote. Everyone has had a long day, and there is no clear winner. Either the Marquise or you could win."

"With respect, your Grace, that is not your decision to make," the Aequitarian mage replied, "You were appointed to oversee the integrity of the election. The election is over."

"You're not wrong," I said, before Brandon could blow her top in anger, "But there's another problem. You don't have the authority to call a vote immediately either. So you're blowing smoke."

"The fraternity leaders are all here," Velarana said, "We can decide now."

"What, a vote on whether we should have another vote?" Leha said, "Why the rush? Afraid you'll lose if we get to outbid you?"

There was some more chatter about the subject, mostly just repeating the same points over again. I rubbed my eyes, wishing I could just lay down for an hour and let it sort itself out. Little did I know that it already had been.

Fisher Junior had stayed dead quiet throughout the argument, and when she finally spoke, it sure as shit got our attention. "The Tevinters are here, right now," she said, "My voters do not trust them. We cannot delay a leadership vote. The Jaderite Oceanic Fraternity sides with our Aequitarian friends and demands an immediate decision on the position of High Chancellor." Julie, Leha and I all took sharp breaths. We all knew what that meant.

There had been a deal between Fisher Senior and Velarana after all.

We would have new leadership. The whole thing made me feel greatly uneasy. I had heard and read Velarana's arguments over the weeks leading up to that day, and I wasn't sure I had a place in her world. Worse, how Julie would take it, I didn't know. What would happen if she asked me to overthrow Velarana for some reason or another? Could I refuse her?

That was quite an unfair worry to have about my Orlesian wife, in truth. I would regret having it.

Julie sent a withering stare at the Jaderite. "I see," she said coldly, "You want a vote without even wanting to hear what I can offer your voters specifically." That was the part she was angry about. Not that she had been outmanoeuvred, but that Fisher and his daughter didn't even conceive of trying to play both sides. It was a startling indicator of their opinion of Julie's leadership.

"We want to live in safety," Fisher Junior replied, "That is the reason my father took us south to Hearth in the first place."

"Very well," said Julie, "You can have your vote by fraternity. But I insist on every individual member being offered the opportunity to object after your votes are announced. Just in case you're trying some sort of trick with this... charade of yours."

"I agree to your condition," said Velarana, "Your Grace, if you would announce the vote..."

Julie bent over and began whispering ferociously in Leha's ear. It must have been some conversation, as the dwarf's eyes grew wider until they were the size of plates, until they closed back to their normal state again when Leha's characteristic greedy sneer appeared. She rushed off to her small group of members to talk to them, and I knew from their shocked faces that something was up.

Brandon clicked her tongue, probably half-tempted to tell the Aequitarian mage to go climb a tree instead. But she was nothing if not mindful of her own position. She had good reasons to want the vote herself, not least of which was Velarana's wish to restore most Chantry privileges.

"Ladies and gentlemen," she announced, stepping outside of our circle, "The fraternity leaders will now vote on behalf of their entire groups, according to the size of their delegations, for the position of High Chancellor. Any member that wishes to contradict their leader's position may do so after each of them votes."

The ballroom went absolutely quiet.

"Lady Velarana, how does your fraternity vote?"

The Aequitarian jumped right in. "My fraternity chooses myself as High Chancellor."

"Are there any dissenters among the Aequitarians?" Brandon asked the crowd. No one came forward. "Then all seventy six votes of the fraternity accrue to Lady Velarana." There was some light clapping from the Aequitarian wing of the ballroom.

A lay sister scribbled a note at the Grand-Cleric's behest.

"Julie Hunt, Marquise de la Fayette," Brandon continued, "How do the Libertarians vote?"

Julie straightened her British Army uniform, pulling the bottom of the jacket down before speaking.

"The Libertarians nominate me, Your Grace, for the position of High Chancellor of the Trojan Republic."

A round of applause erupted from the Libertarian wing, led by Ciara and Armen's enthusiastic contribution. Aurelia even joined in, albeit not with the same effort. There were no objections by our members either. Seventy three seats to Julie.

"Lady Cadas, your vote?" Brandon asked.

Leha smiled like a demon. "The Lucrosian Fraternity votes for Lady Velarana, Your Grace."

Uproar ensued, as the Libertarian members shouted protests and blood-curdling insults. The Lucrosians were shaken by the huge reaction, going white as nearly seventy people threatened less than ten. Julie calmed things by raising her palms and walking along the line, saying things to the effect of 'it is part of the plan'. It worked, eventually.

I wondered why Julie had ordered Leha to do it. I couldn't see any advantage to it, other than showing up the Jaderites and wrecking their agenda. Perhaps that was the point, I thought.

"Are there any objections from the Lucrosian fraternity to the judgment of your leader?" Brandon asked.

"Yes!" called Adam Valle, the original mage leader of the fraternity. He stepped forward with another man, one I recognised as a regular at Julie's forge-factories in Hearth but whose name escaped me. "We object, and submit our votes in favour of Julie Hunt, Marquise de la Fayette!"

It was good to see some honest-to-God loyalty.

The Libertarians clapped and exclaimed praise for the two, although Julie herself didn't look very pleased.

"Seven votes to Lady Velarana, and two to the Marquise," Brandon declared, before checking something briefly with the lay sister keeping tabs, "As Lady Velarana has reached the threshold of eighty-three votes, she now has a majority. Further voting is unnecessary. I hereby declare her elected as High Chancellor."

Now it was the Aequitarians' turn to clap and cheer, which they did so with abandon I had not thought possible from them. They did tend to be the cooler heads, after all. But it didn't stop there. Julie herself began clapping. Which got the Libertarians and Lucrosians clapping too. Politely.

"Well played, madame!" Julie shouted over the noise, while still clapping.

For me, it was a real Twilight Zone moment. What the hell was Julie playing at? Shouldn't she be furious?

Velarana saluted four times, to each corner of the room, thanking them all for their participation. She shook Brandon's hand, and then Julie's, while the applause continued.

Tam pushed her way through to us, ignoring the cacophony, with assorted Grey Wardens trickling in too. Along with Isabela and both Hawkes. They seemed to be looking around like everyone else had gone completely mad, and I couldn't help but sympathise. Aurelia too was drinking in the sight, but with much more grace and introspection. This was a new and interesting experience for many, it seemed.

"We lost?" Tam asked, as soon as she was close enough to be heard.

"We did," Julie confirmed. Leaving out the fact that she had practically guaranteed it at the end, for reasons that were beyond my comprehension.

"And you're okay with that?" I asked.

"No," Julie replied, "But I learned something from our defeat at Hearth. We have planned for this."

I scratched my chin, hoping that didn't mean what I hoped it did. "I hope it doesn't involve firelances and cannon," I said seriously.

"It doesn't," Julie reassured me, "All I can say for now is that you can thank Leha."

I looked to the dwarf, who seemed to be positively buzzing with happiness. The sort I usually associated with her greed impulse. It only made me more confused. Was she expecting to make a buck?

"I'm sorry," Tam said, "I know what this meant to you."

"We'll rise again," Julie replied, tears in her eyes coming now, "It's not over."

"No," I said, "It isn't." I drew Julie into a hug, while Aurelia's golden eyes looked on. There was understanding in them. I gave her a nod of thanks, for at least she had the good sense of knowing when not to butt in. I got one back in return. My fears about my descendants killing each other waned a little at that moment. At least one of the parties responsible had the right attitude about the whole issue, without even knowing about it.

Regardless, that was how we gained a new leader.

* * *

 _AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry this is so late, I've started a new job which is rather exhausting!_

 _So, this chapter, more Aurelia and the result of the election finally comes. I'm sure some of you saw the result coming, but I doubt many of you imagined what Julie's reaction would be. Either way, I hoped you enjoyed it, and rolling edits for mistakes etc will be made as usual._

 _ **5 Coloured Walker:** Polygamy probably won't be seeing an upswing... more or less Sam has fallen into the same position that many powerful men have fallen into over the course of history. Except the women are all individually powerful themselves too, which has also happened I guess. _

_**Thepkrmgc:** Hawke and Isabela will come in and out of the story. They can't exactly stick around in one place for too long._

 _ **Tmroc725:** Pirates are always fun._

 _Glad you enjoyed it nonetheless._

 _ **Halo:** Actually, I was talking about the reviewer before you. It seems the anti-website thing deleted their name because there's a full stop in their nick. _

_Ironclads are certainly more possible than, say, tanks. Steam engines are still a ways off. Not that I haven't thought about Julie churning out some panzers, but it's just way too early for them._

 _ **Zx:** You won't have to wait much longer, the next chapter is the last full one in Ferelden only. Well, that's the plan anyway._

 _ **Transcendant:** Then I guess Julie is more or less a neocon, though she's less laissez-faire and more aware of the limitations of government. She wouldn't say that government should be small exactly._

 _And Velarana was indeed inspired more or less by the figure of Burke, as well as a few others. I'm surprised someone actually caught that. But, as I said, her movement isn't inspired by any current political movements, there aren't exactly many Burkean Tories running around these days._

 _ **Katkiller-V:** First of all, thanks for your recent recommendation of my story in your own works._

 _Unfortunately, Fenris isn't on board the Sirens' Revenge... I'm not sure how he'd take to sea life among pirates to be honest. We will run into him, though, that I do promise._

 _Glad you enjoyed it._

 _ **OnkelJo:** Aurelia is your type, I guess? Good!_


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